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ailendolin · 2 years

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Whump Wednesday - 38 - Bill (2015)

Title: The Cake [AO3]

Characters: Ian/Gabriel, Anne, Bill

Prompt: Gabriel getting ill after accidentally eating nuts - Prompt by the lovely @iris-in-the-rain

A/N: This went in a slightly different direction than I originally planned but I hope you enjoy your fic, dear! 💙

Prompts are open, so if you want me to write a story for you as well just send me an ask with the fandom, characters and your prompt. I’m writing for Ghosts, Yonderland, Horrible Histories and Bill at the moment.

Six Idiots Whump Wednesday / Fluff Friday masterlist is here.

————

The Cake

“Something smells nice in here,” Bill said with a smile when he and Gabriel got home late from the theatre the evening before Susanna’s birthday.

Wiping off her hands on her apron, Anne greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “Isn’t it a lovely cake? Ian has outdone himself once more.”

Gabriel silently agreed. The cake with its dozens of strawberries in neatly arranged circles looked positively delicious and smelled heavenly. She glanced at Ian, about to compliment him as well, and found him already blushing under Anne’s praise. He was ducking his head as he so often did when someone said something nice about him and mumbled a quiet, “Thank you.”

It was quite endearing.

Trying to get him to loosen up a little, Gabriel nudged his shoulder and asked with a teasing smile, “Not going to poison me again this time, are you?”

“Gabriel!” Bill hissed.

She laughed and used the moment of surprise to sneak her hand into the bowl of strawberries to steal one. The fact that Ian was chuckling along with her – a little strained, perhaps, but also exasperatedly fond – was credit to the time that had passed since what had become known in the Shakespeare household as The Incident and the closeness that had developed between them as a result of it.

“You will never let that go, will you?” Ian sighed.

Gabriel popped the strawberry into her mouth and grinned. “No.”

Ian huffed out a laugh and, shaking his head, went back to decorating the cake – though not before holding the bowl of strawberries out of her reach, Gabriel noted in amusement. She knew Ian would let her eat the leftovers later – he always did – just as she knew he needed her to joke about The Incident every now and again as a reminder that she didn’t and never would blame him for it.

The memories of that day were a little hazy now but Gabriel still remembered the moment she’d felt her mouth start to tingle and realised something was wrong. Even though it had been years since the last time this had happened to her she knew exactly what was going on and dropped the piece of cake in her hand as if it had burned her.

Everyone turned to stare at her with varying degrees of confusion.

“Are there nuts in this?” she asked. Her voice already felt and sounded hoarse.

Ian glanced down at the cake with a frown.

“Walnuts,” he said. Then his eyes widened in horrible realisation. “Oh god, are you –“

“Allergic, yes,” Gabriel said, strained. “Ever since I was a child.”

The colour drained from Ian’s face. “I didn’t know! Gabriel, I swear, I didn’t–“

“Doesn’t matter,” Anne said, interrupting him before his thoughts could spiral further. She turned to Gabriel, a calm but determined look on her face. “What can we expect?”

Gabriel swallowed hard. “Rash. Stomach cramps. Difficulty breathing. Maybe some nausea.”

“All right. What can we do to help?” Anne asked next.

“Nothing,” Gabriel said with a shake of her head that made her dizzy. “It just has to run its course.”

“Right,” Anne said and took charge. “Bill and Ian will take you upstairs so you can lie down while the children and I clean this up.”

She gestured at their half-eaten dinner and Gabriel felt a pang of regret that they had to cut it short because of her. Then she saw the look on Ian’s face and realised that whatever guilt she might be feeling in that moment was nothing compared to what he was going through right now. He looked utterly miserable standing there with his arms wrapped around his chest and his head hanging low, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes as the guilt clearly ate at him. Gabriel’s heart went out to him and part of her wanted to reach out and reassure him that she would be fine, that it wasn’t his fault, but she couldn’t – not in that moment, not when her throat was really started to close up now and making it difficult just to breathe. Ian would have to wait.

The walk up the stairs seemed to last an eternity. It felt like climbing a mountain, with the air getting thinner with every step they took. By the time they finally reached the top, Gabriel was wheezing. Every breath felt like pure agony, as if someone was pouring liquid fire spiked with needles down her throat. She could have sobbed with relief when Bill and Ian gently lowered her down onto her bad a moment later.

“Do you want your blanket or–?”

Bill sounded so completely out of his depth that despite the pain she was in Gabriel felt her heart swell with affection. It had been such a long time since anyone had cared about her so earnestly, and Gabriel sent a quiet prayer of thanks to the Heavens for bringing Bill Shakespeare into her life and changing it for the better.

Pointing at the blanket at the foot of her bed, she gestured for him to pull it up. Thankfully, he got the message at once.

“Anything else? Some water, maybe, or – or something for those red spots?”

Ah, Gabriel thought. So that was why her skin was itching so badly.

“Water,” she managed to rasp out.

Bill nodded. “All right. Be right back. Hang in there, Gabs.”

With that, he hurried out of the room, leaving Gabriel alone with Ian. He still stood by the side of her bed as if rooted to the spot, his hands clasped awkwardly in front of his body as if he didn’t know what to do with them or himself now that no one was telling him what to do anymore. With her last bit of strength, Gabriel reached for his hand. He flinched. She interlaced their fingers and gave his hand a squeeze. When he finally found the courage to meet her eyes, his lower lip was trembling.

Gabriel offered him a smile she hoped was reassuring before she closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, on not throwing up, and most importantly on not panicking. Because panic, she’d learned very early on, rarely made things better.

It was difficult, though: her whole body felt like it was on fire. It was itching with a ferocity that became impossible to ignore. Every breath she took was a little more painful than the one before and even though Gabriel knew she wasn’t suffocating, it felt like she was, and she could feel herself starting to spiral into that abyss of fear and panic and–

“You’ll be fine,” Ian suddenly whispered beside to her. His hold on her hand tightened. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. If anyone can make it through this it’s you.”

Gabriel latched onto his words like a lifeline, praying he would keep talking, would keep distracting her. Her desperation must have shown on her face for Ian took in a shaky breath and began murmuring gentle reassurances and encouragement to her. When he ran out of those, he spoke of whatever came to his mind at that moment: the gentle snowfall outside the window; anecdotes about that awful Earl he’d been working for when they’d met; memories of sunny childhood days that hadn’t been as carefree as they could have been.

Gabriel was concentrating so desperately on his voice that she didn’t even notice Bill returning with a cup of water in his hand and Anne in tow until Ian quietly said, “Do you want to drink something?”

With his and Bill’s help, Gabriel managed to lift her head enough to take a gulp or two from the cup before she sank back against the pillows, feeling utterly exhausted.

“Well done,” Ian whispered and Gabriel turned her head back towards him, silently begging him to continue talking and taking her mind off what was happening.

He obliged and as his quiet, calming voice filled the room again, Anne and Bill took their leave without her noticing, knowing she was in the best of hands.

Gabriel had no idea how long it took for Ian’s gentle murmurs to soothe her to sleep but when she woke up again, the first rays of the wintry morning sun were filtering in through the murky window and the awful tightness in her chest and throat was no longer there. For the first time in what felt like a day she took a deep breath.

Looking to her right, she saw that Ian had stayed with her throughout the night. He had fallen asleep with his head resting on one of his arms while still holding her hand with the other. The position couldn’t be comfortable but his face looked peaceful. It struck Gabriel how young he looked like this, and knowing that would change the moment she woke him up broke her heart a little.

“Ian?” she whispered softly. Her throat was still sore so it came out more as a rasp. It still managed to get Ian’s attention, though. He startled awake and upon seeing her quietly smiling at him, his eyes widened in surprise before a look of pure relief washed over his face.

“Gabriel! You’re awake!” he breathed. “How are you feeling?”

“A little thirsty,” Gabriel answered truthfully.

Ian scrambled off his chair and around the bed at once, eager to hand her the cup of water Bill had left on the table the night before. Gabriel watched him fondly and gladly took the cup from his shaking hands.

“Do – do you need help or–?” he asked.

Instead of answering, Gabriel brought the cup to her lips and emptied it in one go.

“Thank you, Ian,” she smiled and handed it back to him.

He returned it to the table and then stood there awkwardly, clearly not knowing what he was supposed to do now. After a moment, he pointed at the door and murmured, “I should go. Let Anne and Bill know that you’re awake.”

“Wait,” Gabriel said, reaching for him and just about managing to grab the hem of his shirt. She tugged at it until Ian got the message and sat down on the edge of her bed. “We should talk about this first, don’t you think?”

Ian visibly gulped. He wrung his hands nervously in his lap and looked down, avoiding her eyes.

“I am sorry for what happened, Gabriel,” he whispered. “So, so sorry.”

“No, that’s not – that’s not what I meant, Ian,” Gabriel said. She placed her hand on top of his. “I don’t blame you. You didn’t know – you couldn’t have known. That’s my fault. I should have told you.”

Ian shook his head. “I still hurt you. You were in so much pain and I – I don’t know what I would have done if you – if you’d–“

His breathing hitched painfully and he looked away. Gabriel’s face softened. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “But I didn’t. I’m okay. See?”

She waited until he looked at her and smiled, hoping it would put him at ease. Ian bit his lip. “You still have spots all over you.”

Gabriel looked down at herself. She had almost forgotten about the rash on her arms, leading all the way down to her fingers and spreading over her face and down her neck. She must look like a lobster, she thought amused and joked, “My mother always said I was too pale.”

Ian gave her an incredulous look.

“Too soon?” Gabriel asked, not quite able to keep her laughter out of her voice.

With a shake of his head, Ian deflated. His eyes dropped to their hands for a moment before he looked up again and asked in a quiet, timid voice, “Are you really okay?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said softly. “Thanks to you.” Ian’s brows furrowed in confusion so she explained, “Your voice kept me distracted. I wouldn’t have managed to stay so calm without you.”

“Really?” Ian whispered.

Gabriel held his gaze, hoping her eyes could convey what her words could not. “I’m glad you were there.”

Slowly, his lips twitched up into a small smile. Then he ducked his head again, and Gabriel couldn’t help but laugh when he said, “I’m going to throw out everything in this house that even remotely looks or smells like a nut, starting with that damned cake.”

That had been almost half a year ago. While nuts hadn’t been completely banned from the house like Ian had initially wanted they were meticulously tucked away in the darkest corner of the pantry now. To this day, Ian still refused to even go near them. The thought always made butterflies dance in Gabriel’s chest, and as she stole another strawberry out of his bowl, she made sure to brush her fingers against his hand to let him silently know how grateful she was to have him in her life.

#Ian #gabriel montoya #gabrian #bill 2015 #bill the film #my fic #whump wednesday #wwff challenge

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chanyoungies · 3 years

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exactly. thank u

#iri knows me. now its time to eat dinner #millie talks #cherry elf 🌷

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

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Falling Out Of Love With Astoria Greengrass || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader (but it's not mentioned frequently so you can ignore it) Warnings: Allusions to sex, some angst, mentions of death, if there's anything else please let me know :) Summary: Throughout the Hogwarts years from Astoria’s POV we watch Draco fall out of love with her, and into love with Y/N.

WORDS : 6251

<~>

The Greengrass and Malfoy families had held each other in a high regard for quite sometime. When it so happened that the Malfoy’s had a son near in age to the Greengrass daughters, it was almost too perfect an opportunity to pass up and both families decided that to keep their families pure, wealthy and powerful, one of the Greengrass daughters would marry Draco when they all came of age.

So soon playdates were being arranged and the Greengrass daughters had become best friends with the Malfoy son. For a while, it looked like Astoria was the sister that he was going to marry, like she’d stolen the Slytherin Prince’s heart. They both liked each other enough, it was a perfect union really.

But then you happened.

It was all going well, perfect even, until Year 1 at Hogwarts began and you snuck your way into everyone’s lives. Draco, Blaise, Daphne and Astoria had grown up together, you were the outsider. It shouldn’t have happened really, it was most unbelievable to Draco himself, but on the first day of school he bumped into you before the sorting ceremony and you flashed him a smile that had his insides bubbling with warmth- not love, definitely not, but an odd sense of comfort. Before long you, Draco, Blaise and Daphne all got sorted into Slytherin and the oddest of crews was formed; three wealthy purebloods and their half-blood best friend - but you were powerful quartet and you only grew in power when Astoria joined Hogwarts the next year.

~~~

She should’ve known, from the day that she met you, that she’d never be enough in comparison to you- not for her sister, not for her friends, and definitely not for Draco Malfoy. How could she be when your laugh made everyone else laugh too, when your smile brightened up everyone’s day even her own, when your hugs were a refuge from the terrible reality that consumed the Hogwarts grounds every year, when you were the only true friend that most people ever had in their lives.

In another world, Astoria would’ve been the one that Draco fell in love with, not you. In another world, a perfect world perhaps, your dorky snort wouldn’t have even made it into any of their lives. Your touch wouldn’t linger on their souls like a wolf’s imprint and your voice wouldn’t snake its way into their most euphoric dreams. And perhaps in another reality, one in which the universe didn’t hate Astoria, you didn’t exist at all.

But in this reality, you are real, very real indeed.

She isn’t in love with him. No. She can’t be.

But that doesn’t change the fact that Draco’s arranged to marry her not you. He’s meant to marry the beautiful, wealthy, pureblood with as much social status as his own, not the half-blood from Hogwarts whose father had to work for his social status. Everyone knows Mr L/N, it’s hard not to know the trailblazing wizard who succeeded against all odds then lost his wife to a muggle disease, but that doesn’t mean everyone respects him in the same manner that they do Lucius Malfoy.

It’s absurd, you’re too different. You’re too different from the rest of them, it doesn’t make sense that he fell in love with you.

~~~

YEAR THREE - DECEMBER

The Malfoy’s had a small, annual Christmas tradition. If your idea of a small tradition is a ball with the Wizarding World’s richest and most popular adversary’s. You’d never gone before, due to your mother being a muggle and unenthusiastic about fraternising with pretentious, former death eaters, but once your friendship had reached stable enough ground Draco had insisted that you and your father come for the ball. And reluctantly, your father agreed.

You’d not come with a date. What was the point if you were going to spend the entire night with your friends anyway? It was unorthodox, and deemed slightly rude by Lucius Malfoy, but no one had cared much after you’d managed to discreetly blend in with your friends and Daphne hadn’t left your side the entire night.

It’s that night when Astoria starts to notice that she’s losing him to you. She’s clearly looking richer- everything about her always screams money- but it seems that it’s not enough to compare to your smile, your eyes, the way your laugh fills the room whenever one of your friends tells a joke, because almost the entire group can’t keep their eyes off of you, including Astoria herself, even though hers is an act of insecurity and not admiration.

So she tries to lure Draco away from you before he can get sucked too deeply into your sparkling iris’s, coaxing him to join her on the dance floor and he obliges without complaint- knowing that his father is keeping a watchful eye on his son and his future wife. And besides, Draco does love Astoria, he wants to make sure that she has a good time. When Astoria looks back at this night she’ll imagine that it was the night that Draco had stopped loving her and started loving you instead, but she was wrong. He had loved you both for long after.

His hands are tight around her waist, in a loving and protective manner, as he leads her onto the dance floor swiftly and treats her to a night of bliss that she’ll never forget. His heart is in it, undeniably, but it seems that only half of his heart belongs to Astoria. Because the whole night, while he dances with her, laughs with her, eats with her, and has the time of his life with her, he guiltily wishes that it had been with you.

~~~

YEAR FIVE - NOVEMBER

Astoria walks toward Draco’s prefect dorm - wanting to find him and drag him down to the Quidditch field so that he can fly around with her for a little bit- and stops at his door when she hears the faint sound of laughter barricading against the walls from the inside. It’s your laugh, she knows it well enough by now, and his chuckles follow soon after.

She suspects that this is a private moment, one meant only for the two of you to witness and experience, and she doesn’t know how but something about the way you’re laughing just sends jolts of envy shooting through her- like Draco’s never made her laugh that way, and maybe it’s because he never has. There’s an odd sort of intimacy that wafts through the air, even with all these walls and doors keeping her separated from you both, and it unsettles her down to her core because it feels so different to the way Draco is with her.

“We have to tell them… We have to tell her.” You sigh as you look into Draco’s eyes sadly. Astoria can’t see the scene but she can sense the discomfort that’s now enveloped the room at the mention of whoever you two seem to be discussing.

“Y/N.” Draco sighs tiredly - having had this argument with you countless times in the last two months.

“I know, I know that you’re arranged to marry her and you love her and she loves you but Draco the two of you aren’t even dating. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing but that doesn’t mean it’s fair to either of us- she at least deserves to know.”

Realisation dawns on Astoria as she processes that she’s the one that they’re talking about - that in some odd twist of fate she’s become the other woman.

“What if she hates me?” Draco asks and Astoria feels her heart wrench- there’s no possibility in this universe that she could ever hate him, even if she tried.

“She could never hate you.”

“What if she tells my parents?” 

“Tell them that nothing’s changed and you will still go ahead with the marriage when the time comes. Tell them all the things that you’ve already told me.” There’s a slight hint of sadness and betrayal lacing your last few words and Draco feels sorrow wash over him.

“Y/N-“

“No, don’t say it.” You shake your head with a sad smile. “You’re going back to her in the end, I’ve accepted that.”

He sighs and pulls you into a bear hug- rubbing your back and soothing you. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about Dray.” You say and even Astoria can hear your smile from outside the door, “But we have to tell her.”

Draco nods and starts to pepper kisses down your neck- sloppy, desperate ones that even Astoria can recognise. “We can tell her after…”

“Dray…” You whine out in protest and he chuckles.

“Tell me to stop and I will pretty girl.”

Astoria doesn’t wait to hear your response, but when the two of you walk into the Great Hall for dinner that evening- large smiles and happily exhausted expressions covering your eyes- she knows what your answer was.

~~~

YEAR FIVE - NOVEMBER (the next day)

Astoria and Draco are sat by the lake together, doing homework and chatting as the rest of their friends keep themselves occupied- as they usually do when Astoria and Draco disappear off together. It’s a habit that they created a few years back when they decided that they needed to spend more time together, alone, to prepare for the inevitable future in which they’re married.

In the past it had been perfect - hours spent in their little corner of reality in which no one else besides the two of them existed. They’d sit and talk for hours - forgetting that time is even a measure in the great expanse of their universe- sometimes they’d do puzzles, play wizard’s chess or just respectively do their own homework. But now it’s changed, it seems that Draco is always itching for their time together to end so that he can return to you. And she knows that it’s not her fault, not anyone’s fault really, and that it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to spend time with her because anyone can see that he does hold some love for her in his heart. But it doesn’t compare to the love he has for you, it doesn’t compare to the way he wants to be next to you as much as possible.

“Are you a virgin?” Astoria asks suddenly as she turns to the boy beside her. She knows that it’s an intimate question, and that he has every right not to answer her, but she needs to know how strong the bond they’ve created over the years is.

Draco thinks on it for a few seconds, weighs the pros and cons of both lying and being honest, before he finally settles on his answer- knowing that it’ll lead to more questions. “No.”

Astoria can’t tell if she’s relieved that he didn’t lie or if she’s hurt that he wouldn’t have told her if she didn’t ask, but she pushes away the fog of emotion and continues on the mission that she set course for this morning. “Who?”

Draco gulps, “Y/N.”

Silence encapsulates them and sends them down a dark road of confusion - where to go from here?

“Do you love her?”

“I don’t know.” Draco shrugs, feeling a smile crawl onto his face at the thought of you, “Maybe.”

“Hm.”

“But it doesn’t matter much anyway, I’m marrying you in a few years bumblebee.” He turns to her and grasps her hand in his own- trying to send a message of reassurance that just makes Astoria’s throat close up- sending her a soft and loving smile. A soft and loving smile that is no match for the one he would’ve sent to you if he’d said those words to you instead.

“True as that may be,” Astoria begins as she takes her hand out of his and pulls back to sit comfortably while facing him, “It’s no reason for us to not enjoy our youth.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asks as he sits up - hoping that maybe the two of you can start to see each other out in the open.

“Let’s see people, other people, while we can.”

“Are you sure?” He raises his eyebrows and she nods- before she has the chance to change her mind- “Who is he?” Draco asks with a smirk.

Astoria tilts her head to look at Draco clearly- to observe this man that she loves enough to let go of in hopes that he’ll come back to her- and she feels her heart warm at the thought of him being happy with you, despite her own desire to feel that love instead. “Trust me, there is no he.”

“Mhmm.” Draco hums absent-mindedly as he hooks his arm around Astoria’s shoulders and pulls her into his chest for a hug. “Thank you bumblebee.”

“You’re welcome.” She giggles out as he places a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll be coming back to each other in the end anyway.”

Before long Astoria and Draco’s study sessions have a third participant. And Astoria thought that she’d hate it, she desperately wants to hate you for stealing his affection from her, but she can’t. Her plan to get you out of Draco’s system backfired quickly- her efforts to push you out of his heart recoiled on her as you pushed your way into hers- and soon enough the two of you become best friends.

Study sessions become picnics- ones where you and Astoria bully Draco with foolish nonsense like plaiting his hair, painting his nails, beating him at every muggle boardgame known to man, making him read to you both as you lay down on the picnic blanket and watch the clouds above. The sound of you and Astoria's combined giggles now fills Draco’s ears everyday, and he can’t possibly think of a sound he loves more.

~~~

YEAR FIVE - MAY

Shit. That’s the very first thing Astoria thinks when that morning’s copy of The Daily Prophet lands in front of her at the Slytherin table. Her eyes immediately shift to find where you’re seated but you’ve already gotten up and started marching out of the Great Hall. Draco’s eyes catch her own and they both nod silently in agreement before getting up from the table and moving to follow you.

The Headline had stated, in big, bold print, that your mother (among many other muggleborn witches and wizards in the Wizarding community) had not died of cancer but instead been poisoned by undercover Death Eaters that worked with her at St Mungo’s. They’d created a slow-acting potion that replicated the symptoms of cancer and made it impossible to identify the source of the sickness- which is why neither muggle doctors nor healers had been able to cure her.

Deep down both you and your father had known that she hadn’t died naturally, you’d both long suspected foul play even when she had first fallen sick, but no one seemed to be interested in your babblings of concern- chalking it down to grief and denial. So you’d moved on- stuffing it so far into the depths of your memory that you’d almost forgotten about it completely- but when that article had landed in front of you in the Great Hall hot, fresh tears of sorrow had started to pour down your cheeks without a moment of hesitation, and it had taken all of your strength to clamber out of the Great Hall and into your dorm room.

You’re crying so hard- completely lost in your cloud of affliction and immeasurable heartbreak- that you don’t even notice Draco and Astoria sneak into your room until they’re both sat beside you on your bed, running their hands up and down your back and your face - trying to bring you back down to planet earth with their movements of affection. But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough to take away your pain.

You don’t hear them whisper above you, and you don’t even notice what’s going on around you until Draco has lifted you up into his arms and started carrying you somewhere. You only manage to blink back tears and observe your surroundings once Draco has gently laid you in his bigger prefect bed and wrapped the covers around you.

“Lay with me.” Is all you manage to rasp out, sparing a glance at them both, before you drop your head into the pillows and try to find solace in sleep. They don’t hesitate to do as you wish- Draco climbing in bed behind you and Astoria climbing in by the front, bundling you up in the safety of their presence’s- and you sigh in relief when you start to feel Draco’s fingers in your hair and Astoria’s hand grasp your own.

It’s almost awkward- your back to Draco’s chest and Astoria’s head in yours as you strain to focus on the scent of her pomegranate shampoo as well as the scent of Draco’s oceanic one, so that there’s something to tether you to the real world- but there’s an almost protective nature to the way you’re all lying, like they’re saying more than words ever could; we’ll protect you. It’s safe and it’s warm, so you let your eyes close as you drift off to sleep.

But maybe that was the day it all started to fall apart, because that was the last time he ever looked at her with as much love as he looked at you with.

~~~

YEAR FIVE - JUNE

Astoria watches as your giggles fill his ears and leave him drunk with happiness- more drunk than any amount of the firewhiskey he’s holding could possibly even try to. It’s a bitter sight really, to see the one who’s meant to be yours falling deeper and deeper in love with someone else, to push down your feelings of contempt and jealousy for the sake of friendship - both with you and Draco.

You two are wrapped in a world of your own- the only thing either of you can focus on is the sound of each other’s voices and the feel of each other’s skin rubbing against each other as you sit in the common room with your friends for game night. The only thing tying you both down to earth is the distant sound of laughter that carries from Blaise, or maybe Theo, and toward you both- waking you up every few minutes from the trance of each other.

It’s in the breaks in between each game that the two of you get sucked back into the whirlwind of your love for each other - that he whispers to you everything he adores about you, and you whisper back all the things you adore about him- hushed, quiet, private, and yet observable from across the table where Astoria watches the scene in a state of silent fury. An anger so muted that one could easily mistake it for admiration, that one could simply miss the way she yearns to be in that place instead of her own, that one could misinterpret her desire to be the one smothered in the kisses of those soft lips.

Best friends.

The two of you are her best friends.

That’s what she tells herself when she feels that familiar coil of rage inching it’s way up into her throat and begging to meet with her tongue- to scold you both for hurting her so blatantly. But she doesn’t, no, her mother raised her with more self-restraint than that. She swallows her anger, her sadness, her jealousy, and reminds herself that no amount of fury will ever be worth losing you both.

He won’t choose her.

We’ll be coming back to each other in the end anyway, she reminds herself.

~~~

YEAR SIX - DECEMBER

When sixth rolls around no one fails to see the changes that Draco’s gone through over the summer break- least of all you and Astoria. You both try your best to act like everything is the same- like he’s not folding in on himself, shrinking closer and closer to just teeth and bones, losing all the colour in his face, draining more and more of life as the days go on- but it’s evident in the way he eats less, spends less time outside with you both and pushes you two as far away from him as remotely possible.

Winter Break rolls around and as usual, you all go down to the Malfoy Manor for the few days of Christmas. Excitement bubbles in the train carriage as you, Blaise, Daphne, Astoria and Theo converse about the upcoming break, but Draco doesn’t join in the conversation- he merely lets his head fall on your shoulder and his fingers intertwine with yours. Your close proximity is a silent reminder that he still loves you, even if he doesn’t say or show it as often, and that whatever he’s going through isn’t your fault but rather a much bigger problem.

It’s over break that you fully notice the impact of whatever Draco’s going through- his bright smile doesn’t appear when he greets his mother, and he flinches in her embrace when she comes up to hug him, he no longer meets you all in the garden late at night to watch the stars and talk till the sun rises, and the days that used to be spent laughing together are now consumed by him sleeping. Two days before you’re all due to leave, you decide that you’ve had enough and you confront Draco in his room- charming the room with a silencing charm in case you erupt into another fight.

“We need to talk.” You say from your seat on the edge of the bed as Draco walks out of the bathroom in a set of black pyjamas.

“Are we seriously doing this again Y/N?” He asks as he rolls his eyes and walks over to the vanity in his room.

“It’s the last time, I promise.” You say with a smile as you shrug. He looks at you skeptically and so you elaborate, “If you don’t tell me what I want to know then we’re breaking up.”

“Fine.” He replies simply with a shrug as he leans against the vanity. “It’s not like you’re not going to want to be with me once you know.”

“And how can you possibly know that?”

“Because it’s bad, Y/N, it’s really really bad.”

You sigh and swallow as you look at the ground. A few seconds pass before you continue, “Do you remember when your father got sentenced?”

A look of confusion flashes across his features but he nods slowly anyway, “Yes, why?”

“You’d started walking ahead with Blaise and Astoria so you didn’t see but, your mother came to talk to me.” You start as you give him a sad smile, “She asked me if I was going to break your heart. When I asked her why she thought that, she asked me how I could possibly love the son of someone who knew the people that killed my mother in cold blood.”

“Why didn’t you te-“ Draco starts but you lift your hand and cut him off.

“I thought about it and I realised that it didn’t matter to me, my love for you is beyond any physical measure and it can’t be wavered by something as morbidly coincidental as that. I told her that I love you more than words can describe and that it didn’t matter to me because that’s not you.” You laugh a sad laugh, “Do you want to know what she said back?”

“What?”

“She told me that ‘to be a Malfoy is to be burdened by responsibility and raised with the weight of the world on your shoulders.’ She told me that I should be prepared to lose you when your duty to your family gets in the way of your love for me.”

“Nothing’s in the way of my love for you, I promise-“ He interrupts you and you send him a look that shuts him up.

“When I asked what duty she was referring to, she said to me ‘the one his father couldn’t fulfill.’” You finish with a large and shaky breath as your eyes finally shift upwards to settle against his unwavering gaze. “So I’m going to ask you this once. If you lie to me then we’re done because I will assume that she was right.”

Draco gulps but nods, “Go ahead.”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, are you a death eater?”

He doesn’t answer at first, he’s still staring at you and dumbfounded at the fact that you’d figured it out, but once he does finally process what you’ve asked him then he starts to roll up the sleeve of his left arm. You gasp at the sight of the skull and snake embroidering the pale skin underneath, and immediately look away so you don’t cry. “Yes, Y/N, I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I?” He asks as he looks at you sadly and you nod in understanding- opening your arms for him to come and settle in them.

The two of you sit like that for hours- in bed, him crying in your arms as he tells you what he’s been tasked with and how he’s been trying to fulfill the task alone over the last few months, he tells you about the Vanishing Cabinet, about having to kill Dumbledore, about learning Occulemency with his Aunt Bellatrix and figuring out for the first time how deep his love for you runs in his veins- and you try your best to choke back tears and be strong for him as he finally opens up for the first time in months.

When the two of you finally leave the room to go downstairs for dinner, Draco feels as though a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders and he smiles, for the first time in months, and it’s for you.

Both Astoria and Narcissa easily take notice of Draco’s altered demeanor when you and him make your way to the table. Astoria feels jealousy wash over her when she watches him pull out a chair for you, kiss your forehead, dish food out for you, and stare in admiration as you eat. Narcissa on the other hand, feels pride, and an unbridled sense of relief at the fact that you managed to help her son out of his head. Astoria’s eyes land on Narcissa’s face for a moment and she sees it; the look of acceptance that a proud mother gives to the one who owns their child’s heart.

And that’s the first time that Astoria realises, maybe we’re not coming back to each other in the end.

~~~

1998 - MAY

Draco feels his breath caught in his lungs as he searches for you throughout the castle - fighting off anyone and anything that stands in the way of him coming across you. He finds Theo, Goyle and Blaise while searching for you and the four of them run through the castle with fire in their bones and aches in their heart at the prospect of not being able to see their friends again. But then it happens, his eyes land on a flash of blonde waving around the courtyard with determination; Daphne. And beside her, in all your magnificent and powerful glory, is you.

The four boys run toward the two of you and you all have a brief moment of relief consume you as you reunite in each others arms. Hugs are thrown around, kisses passed along, and soft words of reassurance are spread to remind you all that you’re alive and together. But as soon as that moment of relief fades, a panic sets in its place as you and Draco realise that Astoria is still missing.

“I thought she was with you.” Daphne says to Draco as her breaths become uneven again and tears begin to prick at her eyes.

“It’s okay, we’ll go find her.” You tell Daphne as you pull her into a hug quickly before pulling away and lacing your fingers with Draco’s.

“The rest of you try to get somewhere safe, we’ll find each other again.” Draco orders the rest of your friends and soon you and him are off to find Astoria - running up and down between corridors and hidden alcoves in hopes of finding your best friend, your missing piece.

After ten minutes of looking you find her, fighting for the right side with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, with blood smearing her cheeks and her eyes blown wide with fear.

That’s when Draco feels like he can breathe again.

You and Draco rush up to her and capture her in your combined embrace - trying to focus solely on the faint smell of pomegranate that wafts off of her hair, trying to commit this moment to memory so that you can always remember what it felt like to have the two pieces of your heart back together again.

“You found me.” Astoria breathes out as tears fall down her face.

“We always come back to each other.” Draco says back as he smiles down at her and you wipe the tears off of her face.

“Don’t be sappy.” She responds as she chokes out a laugh.

“I can’t help it, I was worried that I might have to marry Daphne instead!” He exclaims and the three of you laugh, despite the awkwardness of the situation, almost forgetting that walls are crumbling around you and lives are fading out into nothing.

“You should know by now that I’d never leave you to suffer that fate.”

“I do bumblebee.”

It’s when she looks up into his eyes finally that she sees it, the difference between his love for you and his love for her. There is a different kind of love, safety, understanding, lust, that transpires between you both when you look into each other’s eyes, one that doesn’t appear when he looks into her own. The light that shines in you and Draco’s eyes when you look at Astoria is a dim comparison to the light that shines when you look at each other; a candle compared to the sun.

You both love her. And she, oddly, loves you both. But it’s not the way that you love each other, and Draco would never be able to love her again after loving you so fiercely.

She sighs and puts on a small smile. “Please can we go?”

“Yes, of course. We’ve got to find the others.

“Same side, always.” Draco insists and you look up to him and shake your head.

“Draco, I can’t ju-“

“Same side, always.” Astoria repeats, with pleading eyes, and you sigh before nodding.

“Same side, always.” You reply as you turn to head back in the direction that you came from. Astoria holds out both of her hands, you and Draco take them happily, and the three of you walk toward the end of the war together.

Later when you arrive in the courtyard to hear that Harry Potter is dead Astoria immediately runs to join her sister and her parents on the other side, on Voldemort’s side. And not soon after, you follow Draco as he joins his parents on the other side, keeping your promise to always be on the same side.

It’s only when you’re all in the Malfoy Manor later that evening after defecting when the reality of your situation finally dawns on you and you break down in tears- tears of grief, pain, anguish, anger, relief. Astoria watches in envy as Narcissa receives you in her arms- tears staining her face already as she grips you so tight that you might suffocate. She keeps you in her arms for a while- soothing your light sobs, sending hushed whispers and reassurances your way, promising that they’ll protect you and thanking you for keeping her son safe. Lucius says nothing and doesn’t allow his expressionless demeanor to fall, but when you finally pull away from Narcissa to stand beside Draco, Lucius grabs your hand and squeezes it- a gesture so small that one could easily miss it, but one that says everything he possibly could’ve said in that moment.

Then, she realises that she didn’t lose, how could she when it had never been a competition in the first place. Draco had always belonged to her on paper, but his love for you was written in the stars from the moment that you were both born. Astoria didn’t lose because she was never in the race, in fact there was never a race to begin with.

It had always been you.

~~~

2001

 A few years passed- names were forgotten, new engagements were made, houses were moved out of and new homes were created on the ashes of grief- but one morning she felt her heart drop deep into the pit of her stomach. Lying on her kitchen counter was a gorgeous invitation to a wedding, you and Draco’s wedding, and a letter from you- in which you begged for her to be your bridesmaid.

After the war Astoria had told her parents and the Malfoy’s that she couldn’t go through with the arranged marriage- that he deserved to marry someone that he loved instead- and then she’d pack up her bags and started traveling the world- desperately in search of a love like yours and Draco’s. She didn’t succeed, she couldn’t find anyone that she loved with that much magnitude. So after two fruitless years of traveling she’d returned to the UK - applying for and receiving the appointment of Hogwarts Charms teacher once she’d gotten back.

Slowly, bit by bit, she began to reach out to her old friends and of course, you and Draco had been the first to respond- excited to see her again and yearning for the old days when the three of you would lose time laughing together. She’d been shocked to find out that the two of you had done some traveling as well- exploring Asia, Africa, South America and North America alike, eating food from every culture you came across and dancing to music that you’d never hear back home- and the three of you had spent the next few months meeting up for dinner and talking about your travels.

That was perfect, to Astoria, that was all she needed.

A year passed since she’d been home when Draco surprised you one night, serenading you with poetry he’d written about you over the years and getting down on one knee to proclaim his immeasurable, undying love for you and his eternal devotion to you. The very next morning the two of you were sending out invitations and you were begging for Astoria to be your bridesmaid.

She said yes, of course, and she was the best bridesmaid that you could’ve asked for.

~~~

2002

She’d cried - whether it was to mourn a love that once was or to celebrate a love that now is, she didn’t know. When you and Draco had said your vows she had cried, and the first thing that you and Draco had done once the ceremony had ended was engulf her in your arms. She’d been there for every stage of your relationship and if it hadn’t been for her the two of you probably wouldn’t have been able to get married.

She laughs in the midst of her tears as the two of you hug her- lost in a bittersweet trance of happiness and discontent, she feels full of the love that the two of you hold for each other but there’s a gaping hole that still begs to be filled in her own chest. “Why are you two hugging me? It’s your wedding!”

You wipe a few tears that have fallen down your own face- completely forgetting that your makeup will be ruined- and pull away to face her. “We’re thanking you. None of this would’ve been possible without you.”

“We’re in debt to you bumblebee.” Draco says with a chuckle and she shakes her head immediately at his words.

“You two owe me nothing - your happiness is enough for me.” And in a way it’s true, the two of you having each other fulfills her in a distant but comforting manner. “Now, time to throw the bouquet!” She exclaims as she clings onto your wrist and pulls you away from your groaning husband.

When the bouquet lands in Astoria’s hands, instead of the many other women circling around her, she feels her breath hitch in her throat. Who can she possibly marry when she’ll never love anyone the way that she loves-

“If I’m not your bridesmaid as well then I’ll kill you at the alter.” You cut off her train of thought as you come up to her with a big smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of it being anyone else.” She replies with a smile and you both laugh as you catch each other in one last warm embrace before everyone moves up to the reception.

It’s the way your hands fit perfectly around her waist, the way you breath runs along her ear as you laugh absent-mindedly, and the way you smile at her when you pull apart. You smile at her but it’s not enough to make her smile back because she finally sees what she’s been trying desperately not to see for so long. You smile at her- bright, warm, inviting, happy- the way a friend smiles at another, with love and adoration and support. But it’s just not enough.

It’s at that moment she realises.

She isn’t in love with him. No. She can’t be.

She’s in love with you.

<~>

I feel like this wasn't as angsty as I originally wanted it to be but I still really love it. :)

anyway, i’m currently listening to ‘break my heart again’ by finneas so i'm off to go cry about Astoria’s ending as if i am her.

IN REGARDS TO A SEQUEL: It might be coming soon.

love you all

jean <3

967 notes · View notes

ladyeliot · 3 years

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Fragile [2/3]

Part One

Based on The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Who would have thought that fate would bring you face to face with your father's killer? 13 years old, an orphan girl who was taken under the protection of the United States, who was educated to serve the nation and who was now assigned by the CIA to guard what was once one of the most dangerous men in the world.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, psychological problems, violence.

Word count: 3981

A/N: Post Endgame. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

The city of sin is empty, and so are you. There is no one around you to judge you. The rhythm of their heartbeat seems to take over your body, it seems to lure you into the darkness, into which you have already entered. You have been alone for so long that you can barely remember when you felt a caress. The lights seem to blind you as they fall on your skin through the window panes, you can't see clearly where you're going, or what your next move is going to be, but there's something that grabs you, that compels you to kiss his skin. You look into his eyes, offering yourself, inviting him to love you. You look around you, drowning in the night, but there he is, the only person who can ignite you with a caress.

The Japanese restaurant across the street from your building was the place selected for the date that Bucky had worked so hard to set you up with, but after you saw him show up on your doorstep with the most charming bouquet of orange tulips you'd ever seen in your life you didn't care where he planned to take you. The place was quite popular in the neighbourhood, so that night most of the tables were packed with diners, a fact that seemed to make your companion uncomfortable as you walked into the establishment.

"Would you rather we went somewhere else?" you asked when you saw his gaze sweep over the place.

"No, it's fine," he stepped forward, heading to a free table that was quite far away from the others.

"You know, I don't remember ever having tasted Japanese food," you said, sitting down across from him. "I guess you'll have to walk me through this."

A complicity intensified as Bucky flashed a smile, lowering his gaze in response to the comment you had just made. Your eyes lit up, creating a visual conformity as he raised his countenance again and focused his eyes on you. It was at that precise moment that you discovered that beneath the blue mantle of his iris were small greyish flecks. You had arrived in this place almost three months ago, in this Brooklyn neighbourhood full of charming Asian culture, and you had never felt more at home than you did at that moment. You knew every detail of the life of the boy sitting in front of you, every detail that the government had wanted to give you, but you realised that you didn't really know anything about him at all.

It was a long two minutes in which you spent inspecting the person in front of you. He was wearing a black denim-style jacket, a black T-shirt that seemed to match the jeans you remembered he was wearing, and of course his black leather gloves, the ones you assumed he wouldn't take off all night. You rested your elbow on the table and dropped your chin into the palm of your hand without taking your eyes off his for a second. Bucky's jaw was slightly stiff, his lips were pursed waiting for you to say something and his expression was highlighted by a frown. You held it in for a few seconds until again your mouth curved up in a smile causing laughter to erupt from within you, causing a blush to rise up Bucky's cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he asked doubtful of the cause of your smirking laughter.

"Nothing," you said sincerely, shaking your face as your laughter died down and you took the menu of dishes in your hands. "What do you recommend?"

"I don't know," he said repeating your same gesture and hiding his face behind the paper.

"I thought you were a regular," you commented ignoring the variety of dishes and put the menu down so you could look at him again. "What about the nigiris?"

"The truth is that whenever I come here it's always Yori who decides what to eat," he commented pulling the paper away from his face leaving you to stare at his uneasy countenance again.

"Wow... do you think we should call him for dinner recommendations?" you whispered making Bucky blush again as he chuckled.

"I think we can manage," he commented looking back at the list of dishes.

But really your attempt to make a varied selection of Japanese cuisine was in vain when the young waitress approached you both and you decided on a random selection based on the most curious names you had found, so that after she left you were once again alone in front of each other. You noticed that in those long weeks that you had unexpectedly coincided Bucky had never made a comment about his past, it was obvious that he took it for granted that you knew who he was, everyone seemed to know who he was.

"Can I be frank with you?" you asked, playing with the small vase in the middle of the table.

"Please," he replied, giving way to your question.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you seem nervous enough to have dated girls before, you know," you commented in a delicate tone avoiding scaring him away. "Is this your first date in... this long?"

Bucky's nostrils flared as he averted his gaze to the side and took a breath.

"Well... yeah, you could say that," he replied turning his focus back to you as his fingers played. "I've been trying... God, what's the name of the app?"

"Tinder?" you suggested arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, that," he nodded as his eyes widened in surprise. "It's crazy, that's not meant for me, it's like how am I going to find someone there? I don't know."

"I know," you laughed at his facial expression. "I tried it once, but I had a bad experience."

"What happened?" you inquired curiously as the waitress brought the first dishes to share along with the two beers you had ordered.

"I was supposed to meet a blond guy, curly hair, strong build, light eyes, about thirty or thirty-five, supposed to be British," you began as you took a sip of your beer. "All right, I was in the bar waiting for him to arrive, obviously we were meeting in a public place, we said to wear specific clothes so we could easily recognise each other, although I thought it was a bit absurd as I had seen pictures of him. By the time a completely different guy from the description I just gave you stood next to me, wearing a red tie and introducing himself as Matthew, I picked up and left."

"Are you sure that app is legal?" he asked when you finished telling the story.

"Sometimes I ask myself the same question too."

The atmosphere seemed to envelop you over the course of the dinner, Bucky tilting his face whenever you recounted any of your experiences, which were yours, not the character you had created to conduct your research. The comfort was so pleasant inside you that you even felt guilty on several occasions that he didn't know who you really were, a CIA agent sent to keep him under control. Even though it would have the worst consequences for you, for your career and you could never be willing to throw it all away, at least you had never been willing or thought about it until now. Although it had also been a long time since you'd felt like this.

"So...?" you arched your eyebrows with a lopsided smile, waiting for his honest answer.

"A hundred and six," he replied finishing his second beer.

"And I was complaining about the guy who showed me up on that Tinder date, because he was fifty-three," Bucky ducked his gaze somewhat nervously, as you shrugged. "You really are a fascinating guy, Bucky Barnes."

Those words were the most sincere thing you'd said since the night began, plus they brought with them a fresh batch of knowing glances between the two of you, where seconds ticked by, no one said anything and the din of laughter and surrounding conversations seemed to subside above you. You discovered that you weren't curious to find out if everything in those documents was true or not, if he really was the monster they were trying to make you believe. What really mattered to you and why you were curious about him, you wanted to find out for yourself who he really was, his experiences, his future plans, if he was lost, if he was afraid, you didn't want answers to the morbid questions they used to ask him, you wanted to know Bucky Barnes, not the Winter Soldier.

That was the first time you had ever been on a date, with all its letters, rarely had you reached dessert before you had slept with the guy in front of you, rarely had you felt so comfortable chatting with someone, rarely had you laughed so much and stayed until the place closed.

"You're in the 21st century, do you know that women can pay for dinner and we can buy if we want to?" you said approaching the bar and taking your wallet out of your purse.

"Please," he determined almost in a plea as he pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers.

"All right," you raised your arms, heading for the exit door. "I'll pay for the drinks.

As you stepped outside you could feel Bucky's eyes on you through the glass of the restaurant as he was waiting for the extra money/change. It was a pretty cold night in March, but no one really seemed to care because it seemed like everyone had gone outside to enjoy the Saturday night. You heard behind you the tinkling of a little bell and Bucky was perched next to you, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Well, where..." you started to say before a voice cut you off.

A whistling sound coming from somewhere near you tried to get your attention, but it wasn't until you looked up that you saw a tiny face peering through a window on the first floor of your building.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, tapping Bucky's chest and pointing at Yori who was waving at you.

"Oh gosh..." commented Bucky raising his hand in greeting.

"How was the date?" your neighbour asked raising his tone so he could reach you.

"Great Yori!" you exclaimed trying to let him hear you from the first floor of your building. "Bucky is such a gentleman! They don't have men like that these days!"

You didn't see it, but your companion had no idea where to put himself at that moment, his hand on the back of his neck and his uncomfortable glances around as he blushed gave him away. You raised your arm to wave goodbye to Yori who was saying goodbye as he said something, but it barely reached your ears. Bucky simply nodded showing an awkward smile on his face.

"Come on," you laughed tugging on the lapel of Bucky's jacket causing him to start walking aimlessly.

"Where are we going?" he asked walking beside you.

"I don't know," you shrugged without stopping walking. "I'll remind you that I'm just a tourist, I've been in New York for three months and I've barely left the neighbourhood. But I think you know it a lot better than I do," you bumped his body with yours in a friendly way.

"I don't agree. You may be a tourist in New York, but I'm a tourist in the 21st century world," he commented, hitting you back with his elbow.

"In that case... let's discover New York together," you smiled, and he smiled back, letting you know that he was enjoying the evening as much as you were.

"There," your companion raised his chin, gesturing slightly towards the narrow building looming above you.

"There?" you asked, arching your eyebrows in surprise at what he was telling you.

"Fourth floor," he continued speaking without looking at you, resting his eyes on the place he was describing. "It was a tiny flat, I could get from the kitchen to the bedroom by just jumping up and down. If I opened the window at night, the smell of mozzarella from Nicollini's came in. It was an Italian restaurant," he paused thoughtfully, perhaps wistfully. "Wow... I didn't come here until now."

You stood parallel to Bucky, his eyes seemed to appear brighter than usual, the light from the streetlight allowing you to take in every feature of his face. You were silent for a couple of minutes while he seemed to be distant from the place, obscured in his thoughts, in his past. The time you had spent with him had not allowed you to see him like this at any time, he used to keep his emotions very much in check, not allowing anyone to glimpse them, only letting you see the shame or confusion when he spoke to you.

"So... when was the last time you were here?" your volume was soft, trying not to interrupt him too much, but upon hearing your voice, he fell into your presence and began to pace.

"Maybe... in 1943, just before I left for Europe," he cleared his throat, undoing the knot that had formed in his throat.

It was in that precious moment that you realised how hard and complex his situation must really be. Bucky Barnes was all alone in the world, all his knowledge of his old present was of little use to him now, it might be the city where he grew up but nothing was the same anymore. He also had to live with his legacy, the legacy HYDRA left him. Silence flooded around you, however, it was not a complicit silence, it was an uncomfortable silence, caused by the situation you had just lived.

"My father died when I was thirteen," you didn't know why, but that confession came from inside you, Bucky turned his face and focused his attention on you. "My mother had abandoned us when I was five, so when my father died I was all alone."

"I'm sorry," Bucky whispered making you realise he was really sorry when you looked at his face.

"It happens," you shrugged. "I guess that makes us feel luckier when we find someone we connect with."

That was the first time you looked away blushing as you met Bucky's smile, but he kept his eyes fixed on you. The two of you had made your way to an aimless spot, letting the night fall on you by the riverbank.

"Answer me something, when was the last time you enjoyed the New York night?" you said looking at him, as behind him you could see a wonderful view of the island of Manhattan.

"New York night..." he said looking down thoughtfully. "Well, I remember the last night I spent in New York, my best friend Steve and I went to see The Stark exhibit along with two girls," he turned his gaze to the horizon, "Connie and Bonnie, I think their names were."

"Your girlfriends?" you asked curiously delving into the story.

"Not exactly," he laughed looking at you, "it was like a double date, but they weren't our partners. Those times were more complicated, you know," you nodded and waited silently for him to continue the story. "I had planned for the four of us to go dancing, but Steve was not very receptive, he had other things on his mind, so I ended up going dancing with the two of them by myself.

"Wow, what do you know..." you arched an eyebrow causing Bucky to blush with laughter, gazing at the lights coming from Manhattan. "That means you're quite the expert dancer."

"Not exactly, I mean, maybe in... in the past, it's possible, but..." he didn't know how to express himself, his words were hindering him.

"Show me," you interrupted taking him by surprise.

"Uh?" he asked stopping his steps and frowning.

"Come on, it's time for me to be the one to get out of your time. I have no idea how to dance..." you pointed out, making him understand that you didn't know how to dance in a couple. "Please."

Your companion took a breath as you presented him with the palm of your hand inviting him to take it right in the middle of a small riverside park. Bucky was hesitant but your lower lip bitten by your teeth and your pleading eyes made him definitely decide to hold your hand and accept the challenge. The triumph was depicted on your face, which made it easy for Bucky to oblige by flashing you a smile.

"You're really testing me tonight," he murmured, slowly approaching you.

You first felt the roughness of his leather gloves as his left hand took yours to mark a closer position. Your bodies were close, too close, you could hear his raised breathing and see the mist of your breath connecting. Bucky gently placed his hand on your waist, but nothing else happened, you looked at each other, with a very uncomfortable smile.

"This is weird," he muttered, wrinkling the expression on his face.

"Why?" you looked around you, it was lonely. "There's no one."

"I know," he looked up. "There's no one, there's no music."

"Sing," you said quickly with a laugh, making Bucky laugh too as he shook his head. "I would, but I don't know any songs of the time."

"I don't plan to sing," he decreed without barely moving an inch away from you.

"Then use your imagination," you whispered lowering your gaze for a second, meeting his neck at eye level.

As if time had rushed backwards you were caught in a completely different place, the yellowish light of the street lamps above you and behind you a Manhattan skyline set the perfect mood for the moment. The hand that was perched on your waist began to subtly exert pressure, guiding you to imitate the movement of his feet that he had begun. Embarrassed by your clumsiness you quickly lowered your gaze to his feet to try to imitate what he was doing more accurately.

"Look at me, don't look at my feet," he sentenced with a small laugh. "Look at my eyes."

And you did, so much so that you did, letting yourself be enveloped by their blue, making you blush because of the proximity to them. It was strange, perhaps it was much stranger to you than it was to him, as you bit your lower lip hard trying to escape the awkwardness and embarrassment. How could a moment that could look completely ridiculous from the outside feel so intimate on the inside?

"When was the last time you danced with a girl?" you whispered, trying to keep the situation not too intimate.

"I think it was in London," he replied without stopping his movements. "When I was on leave."

But as he finished his answer you again found yourself under those piercing blue eyes trying to maintain eye contact with you. Again you caught your lower lip between your teeth, thinking of a new question to ask him. Bucky had taken control of the situation, something you weren't used to, and that made you feel alert, he knew it, for the first time he seemed to be in control of the situation, and that was your fault, you had given it to him when you said to teach you to dance.

"Are you alright?" he whispered in front of you with a half smile to which you nodded forcing a smile.

Just as you finished your nod you felt Bucky press harder against your waist and pressed his body against yours leaving your forehead pressed against his cheek. His scent wafted into your nostrils, drifting into your brain, projecting a pleasure that made you close your eyes and let yourself be completely carried away. You accepted that you wouldn't last an hour in the 40s in a dance hall, the second you'd fall at the feet of any young man like Bucky. You didn't know if it was your imagination, because right now you had entered an alternate universe, or if Bucky was humming some tune, but you heard it, you heard how your subtle movements had music.

"And..." you parted your lips, pulling your forehead away from his cheek, trying to formulate a question that didn't come because you felt the melody stop, realising that it was Bucky who was asking it.

His face with a sweet smile on it paralysed you, making you come out of the bubble that had been created around you, feeling guilty for the situation that you yourself had provoked. What the hell were you doing? He was your mission, everything was getting out of context, it had gotten completely out of hand and you needed to stop it as soon as possible. You shook your face, trying not to be too rude to him, and you broke the proximity between the two of you. Bucky didn't understand what had happened, because within a second the happiness was wiped from his face, showing some concern for your actions.

"I'm sorry," he said, raising his hands subtly by way of caution. "If I've done anything inappropriate..."

"No!" you exclaimed shaking your head smiling at his apology. "It's just... I think we should get back, we still have a long way to go and I wanted to get up early tomorrow."

"Of course," the disappointment you saw on Bucky's face almost broke your soul.

The walk home was too stealthy, and that made you uneasy. You couldn't stop replaying over and over the moment in your mind, the feel of his hand on your waist, the proximity to his body, your scent, and the warmth of your forehead against his cheek. It was torture, because on the other hand you felt extremely guilty for violating all the clauses of your job by entering into this kind of relationship with Bucky. It was suffocating, you felt almost breathless inside. Firstly, you should have started by refusing the proposal to go out for dinner, and secondly, if you did go out for dinner, you should have gone straight home, no dancing and no further conversation. In the midst of all these thoughts, you arrived home.

"Please," he said, offering you first the way into the building.

"Thank you," you mumbled without looking at him.

The walk to the third floor began, you had never realised that there were so many steps and so steep until you reached the door of your house, it seemed like a climb up Mount Everest and the worst thing was that Bucky lived right in front of you, on the same landing. You amused yourself rummaging through your purse for your house keys, avoiding having a conversation until you arrived right in front of the door.

"Well..." you started to say by way of an awkward goodbye.

"Again, if I've done anything to upset you..." Bucky repeated again with a gesture of concern.

"Really, Bucky, it's been... great," you concluded, smiling kindly at him. "I promise."

"All right," he ducked his face, not entirely convinced by your answer. "So, good night Susan."

"G-good night Bucky."

Susan? Of course, that was you to him, all a lie.

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bevioletskies · 3 years

Text

dream a little dream of me

summary: Ryunosuke had never been one for gloomy, rainy weather, had always preferred the comforting warmth of a clear, sunny day. When a particularly heavy rainstorm keeps him and Kazuma in bed for hours on end, he finds himself slowly starting to think otherwise.

word count: 2.4k | read on ao3

a/n: For @asoryuu-week, day four of seven (prompt: "domestic"). This fic takes place post-Resolve; mild spoiler warning for Adventures and Resolve, where events may be alluded to but not described in detail. All names and honorifics are taken from the official localization, with the exception of Sherlock and Iris.

Fic title is from the song Dream A Little Dream Of Me by The Mamas & The Papas.

“Remind me, Ryunosuke, what is it they say about a heavy head? Because yours is certainly making it harder for me to breathe.”

Ryunosuke sighed, lifting his supposedly heavy head from his partner’s chest to level him with a sleepy glare. “Good morning to you, too. Must you demean me before we’ve even gotten out of bed?”

Kazuma’s warm, slightly raspy laughter soothed Ryunosuke somewhat, though he still couldn’t help but feel slightly irritated. “Well, it’s hardly my fault you’re so fun to tease. No one else reacts quite like you do.” Then, Kazuma cupped Ryunosuke’s jaw in one hand, running his thumb across Ryunosuke’s mouth. “And I mean that in all manner of things, if you get my meaning.”

“You’re terrible,” Ryunosuke informed him, though he allowed Kazuma to kiss him anyway, grunting slightly when Kazuma rolled over to straddle him, sinking his entire body into Ryunosuke’s, fingers digging into his sides. “Mm...Kazuma, th-they’re waiting for us downstairs - ”

“Let them wait,” Kazuma murmured, playfully nibbling Ryunosuke’s bottom lip. One of his hands had now moved to Ryunosuke’s thigh, caressing him teasingly. “It’s been too long since we’ve had some time to ourselves.”

“You were only here two nights ago,” Ryunosuke said breathlessly; Kazuma’s mouth had quickly made its way from his neck to his collarbone, leaving a heated trail of kisses down the length of his throat. “Remember? That’s when I finally agreed to - ”

“Ry-u! Kazz-y! Won’t you be joining us for breakfast?”

“Damn,” Kazuma muttered, reluctantly climbing off so he could smooth out the front of his jinbei. Despite Ryunosuke’s continued annoyance at Kazuma’s insatiable nature, if he wanted to put it kindly, he also couldn’t help but admire how flushed Kazuma’s ears, neck, and chest had become in the last few minutes alone. “We’ll be right there, Iris, sorry for keeping you!”

“That’s okay!” Iris called back, her footsteps already beginning to fade away. “Just as long as you’re both properly dressed, alright?”

Ryunosuke groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “This is all your fault, you know that?” Kazuma merely scoffed, rifling through his bag so he could find the fresh set of clothes he’d packed for his overnight stay. “Though I suppose nothing will ever be as bad as the time you pulled me aside in the middle of an investigation and - ”

“I thought we both found that to be a thrilling and memorable experience, but fine,” Kazuma said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll see to it that we won't try anything that adventurous ever again.”

“We almost got caught!” Ryunosuke exclaimed, agitatedly flapping his shirt in Kazuma’s face. “Don’t you realize how much trouble we would’ve been in?”

Kazuma stared at Ryunosuke in complete and utter disbelief. “...Ryunosuke, you’ve committed treason. You’ve implicated so many government officials, exposed so many government secrets - ”

“...all the more reason not to take a chance?” Ryunosuke offered sheepishly. “Anyway, let’s get dressed before they come looking for us again. I swear I can hear Susato-san’s footsteps coming up the stairs.”

A little over an hour later, Ryunosuke, Kazuma, and Susato returned to the attic, pleasantly sleepy from the generous meal that Iris had prepared for everyone. The rain was still thumping against the windowpane, an erratic tap-tap-tap that filled the entire room, rendering the three of them barely able to hear themselves or each other.

“I know you were planning on returning to your own flat, Kazuma-sama, but I would advise against it in a storm like this,” Susato mused, momentarily brushing the curtains aside so she could look out over the soggy, sorry state of London’s streets. “And I’m sure Naruhodo-san wouldn’t complain if you stayed.”

“I’m sure as well, though Ryunosuke is clearly in no position to answer either way,” Kazuma said dryly, gesturing in Ryunosuke’s direction, where he was currently curled up on the floor by Susato’s tea set, half-asleep and hugging his daruma to his chest. Susato watched, giggling, as Kazuma walked over to gently prod Ryunosuke in the shoulder with his foot. “Come now, Ryu, don’t make me carry you back to bed.”

“We both know you’d like that,” Ryunosuke mumbled. Susato only just managed to refrain from rolling her eyes at them - she’d been privy to far too many of their supposedly private conversations for her liking - instead electing to pat Kazuma on the arm.

“I think this is the perfect weather for a nap, personally,” she said, looking at him meaningfully. “If you plan on returning to bed as well, I can let Iris and Mr Holmes know not to disturb any of us until dinner.”

“That would be great, Susato-san, thank you,” Kazuma said sincerely, though he secretly suspected she just wanted to leave them be. Once she disappeared back down the stairs, he looked down at Ryunosuke with an irrevocably fond sigh. “Ryunosuke…”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m getting up,” Ryunosuke yawned, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet. “Bed?” Grinning, Kazuma wordlessly took Ryunosuke by the hand and led him towards his bedroom - their bedroom, really, given how often he stayed over these days. Moments later, they clumsily tumbled back into bed, having changed into their sleepclothes once more.

“You’ve still got a bit of egg on your face,” Kazuma observed, wiping Ryunosuke’s cheek. “How does this keep happening to you?”

“Eat too fast,” Ryunosuke murmured, turning to kiss the palm of Kazuma’s hand. “Food...good.”

“Your grasp of both the Japanese and the English language is incredible,” Kazuma drawled, carding his fingers through Ryunosuke’s hair. He then pulled him closer, burying his face into Ryunosuke’s neck. “I thought you went back home to finish school, did you not? Surely you can do better than ‘food good’.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Ryunosuke said, sighing, letting out an exaggerated exhale directly in Kazuma’s face. Still, he turned over so he could wrap his arms around Kazuma’s waist, snuggling contentedly into his chest. “I really should just kick you out and make you go home.” Laughing, Kazuma kissed the top of his head.

“Not in this weather, you wouldn’t,” Kazuma replied. As if to illustrate his point, there was a loud, thunderous crack that practically shook the entire room. “If this storm keeps up, I might have to live here indefinitely.” Ryunosuke merely grunted in response. “Well, you don’t have to sound so pleased about it.”

“Oh - no, it’s not that,” Ryunosuke reassured him, sitting up somewhat so he could look Kazuma in the eye. Despite Kazuma’s typical brusque, yet affectionate nature, he could tell that Kazuma was slightly hurt. “I was just thinking about how much I dislike storms. Rain is fine on occasion, but...it seems as if London is in a permanent state of misery sometimes, you know? And it makes us miserable all the while.”

Kazuma’s clouded expression cleared up instantly. “It’s been ages since we’ve had sunshine,” he agreed, now dropping his head to rest on Ryunosuke’s shoulder. “It would’ve been nice to go for a walk together before I leave...whenever that is.”

“Like we used to do before class,” Ryunosuke said quietly, nodding. “You could never convince me to join you during your morning exercises, though.”

“Forget morning exercise, I had to literally drag you out of bed sometimes,” Kazuma snorted, tangling their fingers together. “I hear Susato-san hasn’t had any luck with getting you to exercise more, either.”

“I exercise enough,” Ryunosuke huffed, pinching Kazuma’s side; much to his dismay, Kazuma merely laughed in response. “I do plenty of pacing up and down during trials, you see.”

“I do see,” Kazuma teased. “I should look for permanent scuff marks behind the defense bench and the witness stand the next time we’re in court. You have a tendency to drag your feet, after all.”

Rolling his eyes, Ryunosuke made a show of yanking his hand out of Kazuma’s grasp and turning over with his back to him, pulling his side of the blankets over his head. “...I’m really starting to think you have nothing nice to say about me at all.”

Even when he wasn’t looking at him, he could tell Kazuma was smirking. “Oh, I think I praise you plenty. But in case you were wanting to hear it…” In one quick motion, Kazuma swept the bundled-up Ryunosuke into his arms, Ryunosuke’s back pressed against his chest, his breath ghosting the shell of Ryunosuke’s ear. “...I love you, Ryunosuke. And I’ll say it as many times as you’d like; all you need to do is ask.”

“Wonderful, now I just sound needy,” Ryunosuke said, sighing yet again, though he craned his neck to kiss Kazuma anyway, tossing the blanket around his shoulders so they were both enveloped in its warmth. Kazuma slowly lowered him onto his back, onto the mattress, knees braced on either side of Ryunosuke’s hips, fingers digging into Ryunosuke’s waist.

“You can insult me back, I don’t mind,” Kazuma murmured, sucking a bruising kiss along the crook of Ryunosuke’s jaw. Though they’d crawled back into bed for a nap, Ryunosuke was starting to feel more and more alert by the second. “Do your worst.”

Ryunosuke hummed, thinking. “...sometimes, you try too hard. You need to relax more, Kazuma. There have been some jurors and witnesses who’ve been intimidated by you, even though you aren’t trying to be malicious.”

“Fair enough.” Kazuma’s voice was low, raspy, sending shivers up Ryunosuke’s spine. “Anything else?”

“You have a bad habit of interrupting people,” Ryunosuke continued, prodding Kazuma in the chest with an accusatory finger. “Even Iris seemed annoyed with you last night, when she was asking us about our latest trial. I know you think you were helping, but I can speak for myself just fine. We’re not in school anymore.”

“...ah.” Kazuma looked humbled, almost remorseful. “I...I’m sorry, Ryu, I didn’t realize. I honestly thought we were just telling them about what happened together.”

“And you need to stop biting me like I’m a piece of meat - ”

“No one can see them!”

“Kazuma, you're doing it again - ”

“Doing wh - oh.” Kazuma burrowed his face into Ryunosuke’s chest, cheeks burning hot with shame. Ryunosuke couldn’t help but laugh; it wasn’t often that he got to embarrass Kazuma and render him speechless. “I...see that I’m not quite the partner I’d thought or, or hoped I was.”

“Last, but definitely not least - ” Ryunosuke abruptly took Kazuma’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips puckered “ - you don’t need to be quite so dramatic, either. I still love you all the same, Kazuma.” He smirked. “And I’ll say it as many times as you’d like; all you need to do is ask.”

Kazuma stared down at him with wide, imploring eyes. Then, he cocked his head to one side, his frown melting into a warm, radiant smile. “...again.”

“I love you.” Ryunosuke kissed Kazuma’s cheek, then the tip of his nose, then finally, his lips. Beaming, Kazuma kissed him back, a little sweeter this time, a little less sensual. “Especially because you’re a little needy, too.”

They fell silent for a few minutes, save for the steady sounds of the rain and thunder and wind whistling past their window, exchanging slow, languorous kisses and simply enjoying one other’s company. Though Kazuma spent more nights at Baker Street than not, in a way, it still felt as if they had months, even years, of lost time to make up for, even though they hadn’t been apart - or a part of each other’s lives, for that matter - for that long. It was times like these that Ryunosuke found himself reminiscing about their university days, the early days of their companionship, when they’d have spirited debates that ended in spirited laughter and meandering conversations about nothing in particular.

“I can hear you thinking, partner,” Kazuma murmured, brushing Ryunosuke’s hair out of his eyes. “Something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Ryunosuke said, pulling away momentarily to yawn. “Only that we were supposed to be taking a nap, and instead, we spent the last ten minutes poking fun at each other. Though I suppose that’s just an extension of the way we speak to each other in court at times.”

“Susato-san has been scolding you about that as well, has she? Perhaps we do need to - I need to be more careful,” Kazuma corrected hastily when Ryunosuke leveled him with an impressively Kazuma-like glare. “Though we’d be in even more trouble if I were to, say, openly comment on how handsome you looked in court just last week, when your hair was a little bit longer in the back. I thought it suited you.”

“Why do we need to be in trouble at all?” Ryunosuke retorted, elbowing him a little harder than necessary. “I’d rather we do our jobs like the proper lawyers that we are - ”

“Well-behaved schoolboys, you mean,” Kazuma teased.

“ - and come home at the end of the day, where we can do as we please,” Ryunosuke finished.

Kazuma looked at him consideringly, his gaze impossibly soft. “Ryunosuke Naruhodo, are you implying you’d like me to move in someday?”

“What? I - ” Ryunosuke stared at him, momentarily stunned. Then, he relaxed, his head dropping back to his pillow, where Kazuma followed him down, their eyes still locked. “I, er...I thought that was a given. Though I worry that...that people might talk, as they’re wont to do.”

“Professor Mikotoba lived here with Mr Holmes for some time, did he not?” Kazuma pointed out. “Besides, even if people talk, why listen? All that matters is what we think of ourselves, as trite as that might sound.” He leaned in close, pressing a lingering kiss to Ryunosuke’s forehead. “So, just know that whenever you decide to ask, you already have my answer.”

“Then I think I’ll make you wait for just a little bit longer before I do...if only to get back at you for two nights ago,” Ryunosuke added with a smug smile, laughing when Kazuma glared daggers at him in response.

“And you think I’m the cruel one,” Kazuma muttered, pulling Ryunosuke into his arms once more so he could hold him rather possessively, their legs loosely intertwined beneath their mess of blankets. “You told me you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, believe me,” Ryunosuke grinned, blushing faintly at the sudden vivid memory that had come to mind. “But just this once, I’d like to have the upper hand.” He then leaned in to kiss Kazuma’s exaggerated pout. “Anyway, we really should be getting to sleep now, or it’ll be time for dinner before we know it. I can barely keep my eyes open at this rate.”

“Agreed,” Kazuma said, yawning. He shuffled closer, dropping his forehead down to rest against Ruynosuke’s. “Good...morning, Ryunosuke.”

Ryunosuke shot him one last sleepy, fond smile before letting his eyes drift shut. “Good morning to you, too, Kazuma.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fourth entry for Asoryuu Week 2021! We've moved on from sad Kazuma hours to semi-horny Kazuma hours, I guess? Blame it on Kazuma talking about getting Ryunosuke off and holding his hand over a hot plate and finding ways to shut him up; you can't tell me he's not doing this at least a little bit on purpose. Anyway, I always love writing plotless cuddling fics where they basically talk about nothing. I could've made this way, way longer, easy, but we've still got three more days to go!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#asoryuu #asoryuu week 2021 #ace attorney #asoryuu fic #dai gyakuten saiban #the great ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #dgs spoilers #tgaa spoilers #tgaac spoilers #myfic #long post #this is just cuddling i promise!! kazuma's just being...kazuma

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

63. sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “[person] is [attractive] enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard

Danbrey, sfw, please!

Here you go!

It’s the rabbit that draws her eye; it’s not everyday a bunny the size of a Beagle stops outside the window of Amnesty House. She follows the leash from the harness to the hand holding it, and spots a much bigger issue.

“Miss?” She steps onto the porch, “could you not take my flowers.”

“Yeeeeep!” The other woman drops the pocket knife she’s using to saw off the stems of tulips and irises, scrambling to her feet and tearing her fishnets in the process, “shit, um, I’m sorry, didn’t think you’d notice, I’ve done it before and you never, um, nevermind.” She pulls the rabbit back from the fence, “anyway, I really needed this, they’re really pretty and I think she’d like them-”

“Ohhhhh, I get it” Dani crosses her arms, “in that case, I’ll come with you. I want to see the person who’s cute enough to warrant multiple flower thefts.”

“Um, or! You could not do that and I could promise to never do this again?”

“Nope, my mind’s made up.” She slips on her Birkenstocks and heads down the front stairs. Jake and Moira are both home, so she’s not too worried about locking up.

“Fine. Let me just-” The woman scoops the rabbit up and sprints away. Dani could just let her go, but those were her heirloom irises, damn it, and she wants to make sure the person who gets them knows just how valuable they are. So off she goes, soles slapping the pavement as they head towards the lakeside.

She won’t be surprised if the recipient is hot; god knows the thief is. The freckles and red-streaked hair is just the icing on the combat-boot, denim-vested femme cake.

Growing up in this neighborhood means she never loses sight of her target, even when she’s cutting through alleys and taking sharp turns. Then the woman goes straight through a wall of junipers and Dani is not interested in getting that scratched up by plants today. This is one of the borders of the park, so all she needs to do is find the front entrance to relocate her very distinct thief.

Ten minutes of hunting later, she spots a red and black pompadour on the other side of a low, stone wall. She’s cross-legged on the grass, which the rabbit is happily munching by her side.

“Okay, seriously, does the person you’re seeing know those...are...aw fuck.”

The other woman turns from the gravestone she’s sitting by to look at her, “Yeah. This is kinda why I didn’t want you to come with me. I mean, it was a hella weird thing to do anyway, but” she sweeps her arm at the cemetery, “this is super not a date.”

“I’m so sorry.” Dani sits on the opposite side of the rabbit, “That never even occurred to me. I…” she sneaks a glance at the dates; the death was only three years ago, “I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

Silence settles between them; she feels like she should say something else, that it’d be rude to just shrug and walk away, but she has no clue what words are even appropriate here. The rabbit stretches its neck, bonking it’s nose into her hand. She pets it, smiling when it nestles closer.

“Mom really liked bulbs.” The thief says softly, “when I was little we’d always go for walks in the spring just so we could see the first ones popping out of the ground. She liked ones that were unique, so when I saw the orange and black ones in your garden all I could think was how happy they’d make her. How she woulda stopped to look at them whenever she walked past. I know it’s silly but I, um, this felt like the closest I could get to giving her that.”

The breeze carries dried iris petals from the headstone into the park beyond the wall.

“You could have just asked. There’s no way I would have said no if you told me what they were for.”

“It felt too weird. Everything feels weird these days.” She sighs, reaching out to rub dust from the stone, “I thought I was ready to come back, but it’s like the whole town is haunted.”

The fresh flowers wobble, then land on the grass. Dani grabs them and puts them back, the rabbit honking indignantly when she does.

“At least Dr. Harris Bonkers is having a nice time.” The other woman rubs the rabbit’s ears, “isn’t that right, buddy?”

“What’s he a doctor of?”

A small, beautiful smile, “Psychology. He worked hard for his PhD.”

“I bet.” She gives the doctor a final rub on the nose, “I’ll, uh, I should give you two some time alone.” Dani stands, brown eyes watching her the whole time.

“Thanks for the flowers.”

She smiles, “You’re welcome.”

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

Moira’s expecting a package, so Dani doesn’t even look up when the older woman answers the front door.

“Um, hi. I, um, I was hoping to get some flowers? The blonde who lives here said I should ask this time. I’m Aubrey? Wait, I don’t think I told her that.”

“Which blonde?”

“The cute one?”

“....I meant the boy or the girl.” Moira replies, amused, just as Dani reaches the door.

Aubrey waves, “Hi again. Could I take a few Irises?”

“Sure. Oh, wait, let me get you the pruning shears; the knife isn’t great for cuttings.”

“Dani! Could I get a hand really quick?” From the accompanying clanks, Barclay needs said hand urgently.

“Coming! Here, you can just leave them on the steps when you’re done.”

One hour and a narrowly avoided soup disaster later, she’s herding the others to the table when there’s another knock on the door.

“I, um, I stuck these in my bag without thinking.” Aubrey holds out the shears. In the porchlight, her eyes are red-rimmed and there’s a slight smear in the black lipstick on her upper lip.

“It happens. Jake, my roommate, once went a whole day with six boxes of poptarts in his bag because he got distracted while unloading groceries. Uh, if you’re not busy we’re just about to have dinner. Seems only polite to invite my biggest admirer.”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows.

“My, uh, the biggest admirer of my gardening?” Her cheeks are hot, but her flustered tone seems to relax Aubrey.

“Sure. I just have to make sure I get home in time to feed Dr. Harris Bonkers.” She grins and steps into the house.

It’s common for Amnesty residents to bring home friends (or strangers), so when Barclay spots Aubrey he simply ducks back into the kitchen for an extra set of cutlery and a bonus bowl. As always happens when Barclay cooks, everyone is too busy stuffing their faces for the first ten minutes of dinner to say much.

“So, Aubrey” Mama sips her tea, “what brings you to town?”

“I grew up here but, um, I left a few years ago to try and kickstart my career.”

“What do you do?”

Literal sparks fly from her guest’s fingertips as she wiggles them, “magic.”

“Whoah, sweet!” Jake leans forward, “do you do stunts?”

“Nah” Aubrey’s smile is brightening under the excitement, “I do sleight of hand, card tricks, that kind of thing. I like the classics. Lots of other people do too, but I hit a spell where no one was interested in booking me, so I came back here to regroup.”

“Smart thinkin’. Pretty much everyone here knows that tryin to make ends meet on the road can lead to serious trouble.”

“Or grand theft auto.” Dani smirks at Barclay.

“That was an accident!”

“Wait, what?” Aubrey laughs, the room feeling ten times brighter when she does, “how does that even happen?”

Barclay recounts the story, blushing all the while, then points out that at least he never got stuck halfway up an off-limits slope because he was daydreaming, and to which Jake responds that that’s not even in his top ten wipeouts, dude.

Aubrey hangs around, helping Dani with the dishes while they chat about childhood pets (Dani had a frog that required her to drop food on his head in order for him to notice it). When she finally re-laces her boots, her new friend is smiling constantly and Dani never wants to look at anything else.

“Hey, uh, tonight was really fun. Do you want to come by on Friday? I’m, uh, I’m cooking, so it won’t be as good as what Barclay made, but I’d love for you to try my breakfast salad. Oh, and my muffin. Muffins.”

“I’d love to. And don’t sell yourself short, flowergirl” Aubrey winks, shooting finger guns her way, “I bet your dinner is gonna rule.”

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

“What do you think? Too much?” Aubrey turns from the mirror. Dr. Harris Bonkers wiggles his nose.

“You’re right, the heels are too much. Gotta leave some plausible deniability. And be able to run away if this goes bad.” She tosses the black heels back into the closet and squeezes into the tiny bathroom to start on her make-up. It has to be perfect, or as perfect as she can get it in the mirror that’s inexplicably high up on the wall.

Yeesh, is getting ready to impress a cute girl really the thing making her consider moving back in with dad? It would be easier to find the right clothes if she had a space to hang them up in, instead of stacked boxes to dig through. But walking the streets where mom used to hold her hand, eating at the places they’d go for breakfast, all those vortexes of memories are hard enough to free herself from on their own. Sitting in the chair she used to, expecting to see her at the table or in the yard, those things would be too much.

It’s been easier since she found Amnesty. Since she found Dani. It’s hard to be stuck in the shadows of the past when there’s a beautiful ray of sunshine sitting next to you. She has dinner there most days now, practices her new routine while Dani updates the inventory for her online plant store.

Relatedly, Aubrey now has several rabbit-safe houseplants that Dani always offers to come check on. Aubrey’s actually pretty good with plants, but she’s not about to miss out on an evening sandwiched next to Dani on her futon and the ghost of jasmine perfume winding around her when she sleeps.

Amnesty is lit only by the string lights on the porch and the glow from the kitchen when Aubrey bounds up the stairs.

“Dani?”

“Oh, hey, you’re early.” Dani leans in the doorway of the kitchen and Aubrey’s brain sounds like a cartoon, nothing but “boiiings” and “wowzas” for a good ten seconds.

Dani’s hair is out of it’s usual messy bun, and instead of her overalls or patched jeans, she’s in a short, heather green tank-top dress. Getting on her knees to kiss the vine tattoos weaving up her legs would be too forward, but boy does she want to.

“Took an earlier bus just to be safe. Man, it’s so weird to be here when it’s this quiet.”

“No kidding; I can’t remember the last time I was the only one here.” Dani shoos her through the kitchen and out into the back garden. The little white table usually piled with tools is cleared of everything but a green tablecloth and two wine glasses. That’s another point in the “yes, this is a date” category. The first was that Dani was careful to emphasize that everyone would be gone for the night for camping, work, or ill-advised urban skate stunts.

“Sit your cute butt down, I’ll be right back with dinner.”

That’s the first butt-based compliment she’s gotten, so score one for this red skirt. When Dani comes back, Aubrey can’t help but bounce in her seat; her crush is carrying a board covered in fruit and bread, and she absolutely sees a fondue pot on the counter inside.

“Since Cheesy Heat closed, I thought I could recreate it for us. Kinda. Barclay said he thinks they used a super fancy cheese that’s hard to get here.”

“That’s probably why they went out of business. Dang, why so many fondue pots?”

“Barclay keeps getting them for Christmas.” She sets the chocolate one down next to the cheese, and when she tugs on her dress before sitting down Aubrey’s mouth waters from more than just the meal.

The stars come out as they take turns making a mess of the table cloth, but the longer she sits here, happier than she’s been in years, the more Aubrey knows she can’t put the question off.

“Why the fancy dinner tonight?”

Dani dabs her mouth with her napkin, “I, uh, I, Cheesy Heat was my go-to, uh” her voice drops to a whisper, “date place.”

“Ohthankgod.” Aubrey flops back in her chair, “this is a date.”

“Did you think it wasn’t?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t wanna, like, assume.”

“Fireblossom” Dani stands, making a little half circle to reach her, “the first time we met you were stealing from me assuming I wouldn’t notice.”

“To be fair, getting caught in petty theft is less terrifying than making an ass out of yourself in front of a hot girl.” She grins as Dani straddles her lap.

“...okay you’re right, I’d hate to embarrass myself in front of you. Again.”

“A girl who can run me down in sandals is pretty hot.”

“Pfft” Dani giggles, hides her face in Aubrey’s shoulder, “not as hot as a girl who can sprint while carrying a twelve pound rabbit.”

“Seventeen.” Aubrey kisses her cheek, whispers teasingly, “you shoulda told me this was a date, I could’ve brought flowers.”

“You can bring me some next time.” Dani sits up, smiling at her.

“Sweet, I know somewhere I can get them for free.” She bounces her eyebrows, making the vision of perfection in her lap laugh.

“Nope, this time it’ll cost you.”

“How much?”

Dani cups her cheeks and dives down for a kiss, Aubrey clinging to her dress and sighing as she slips her tongue between her lips.

“Few of those” Dani murmurs, brushing their noses together.

“I’m happy to pay them.”

#meet ugly #danbrey #aubrey little/dani #taz amnesty

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

Text

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter III

Back at the chocobo outpost, (Y/n) waited patiently for the boys to finish talking with Wiz. She wandered over to the pens and immediately made eye contact with one of the birds. It had (f/c) feathers. It watched her every moment as she approached. A faint 'chirp' came from the chocobo as it wiggled its tail feathers excitedly.

The guardian smiled sweetly, reaching out to pet the bird. It lowered its head and allowed her to place her hand on its head. It closed its eyes, enjoying the feeling of her fingers stroke the top of its head.

(Y/n)'s hand gravitated toward the chocobo's neck, resulting in the bird to come closer. Its body bounced against the wooden railings of the pen, but that didn't stop it from snuggling into her embrace. With a giggle, the girl wrapped both arms around the chocobo's neck as it placed its head on her shoulder. It chirped lightly before nuzzling its beak into her (h/c) locks.

What surprised (Y/n) the most was the bird's lack of fear. Most animals were able to detect her aura and became frightened, but this chocobo seemed to find joy and comfort in her presence. A giggle fell from her lips at how affectionate the bird was. "You're really friendly, aren't you?"

The sound of a camera shutter grabbed her attention. Pulling away from the chocobo, she looked toward the sound and saw Prompto. A grin manifested on her face when she saw his cheeks turn slightly red from being caught. "Sneaking more pictures, huh?"

The boy lowered his camera, scuffing the tip of his shoe against the ground. "Wh-What can I say? A photographer never misses a perfect opportunity to take a picture."

(Y/n) then noticed he was alone. "Where're the others?"

"They're still talkin' with Wiz," he said, walking towards her. As he stood by her and waited for the others, he reached out and petted the chocobo. "So...exactly how're we supposed to explain this to them?"

"Leave it to me," she said. "This'll be easier than I thought it'd be."

"Why's that?"

"By Ignis' reaction earlier, it seems he already has a comprehension of what I am. With his assistance, I'm positive Noctis and Gladiolus will be able to understand." She lifted her left hand, clamping it over the gemstone located on her right arm.

A few minutes ticked by before Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis regrouped with (Y/n) and Prompto. The young girl directed them to a place on the chocobo ranch that was void of prying eyes before giving them her full attention and introducing herself. "My name is (Y/n). It's a pleasure to finally meet you all."

"So, uh..." Noctis rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks for the, y'know...help earlier."

She smiled gently at him. "No need to thank me. After all," she turned her gaze to the marksman. "It is my job to protect Prompto."

"If I'm not mistaken, you are a guardian, correct?" Ignis asked.

She nodded. "Indeed, I am. You knew the moment you spotted the gemstone what I was. I'm impressed by your analytical abilities, Ignis."

"Hold on," Gladio interrupted. "Guardians are from fairytales. There's no way they really exist."

"Far from it, Gladio," the advisor replied. "Guardians are no mere figment of one's imagination. You stand in the presence of one. (Y/n) demonstrated her abilities during our skirmish with the behemoth. There are a multitude of texts explaining the existence of spirits, or as we commonly refer to them as guardians."

The shield still wasn't convinced the fairytale story he was told when he was little wasn't fiction. "If you really are a guardian, how the hell do you know blondie?"

The golden-eyed girl glanced at Prompto for a brief second before looking back at the brute and explaining who and what spirits truly were. "I'm not sure what to say about the guardians you are referring to in fairytales, but a real life spirit is born from a fragment of one's soul. Not all humans are capable of manifesting a guardian. In fact, it is quite rare. A strong emotional tie to the world around you is necessary to birth a spirit. Just so happens, Prompto is one of those people who does has a strong connection."

It took a few minutes of silence after (Y/n)'s explanation for Noctis and Gladio to fully understand her words. Ignis, on the other hand, took no time at all for him to wrap his head around the truth behind guardians. While he needed no other evidence of the truth due to seeing all the proof he needed, Noctis and Gladio were still unable to swallow everything. Of course, the two displayed their uncertainty and (Y/n) was more than understanding.

After (Y/n) answered any and all questions they had, Prompto placed his hands together and begged. "Can (Y/n) come with us, please?"

"What're you talkin' about?" Noctis asked. "Hasn't she already been with us?"

"Well, yeah, but I mean can she travel with us outside the bracelet?" He clarified. "She could help us in battles! I mean, you guys saw how awesome she was earlier, right?"

"I don't see why not." The prince glanced at his shield and advisor. "What do you guys say?"

"A guardian would prove beneficial in battle," Ignis stated.

Gladio shrugged his shoulders. "Fine with me. She's already proved herself by taking Deadeye down."

Prompto pumped his fist into the air with a triumphant cry. "Yes!"

"Now we know why you've been demanding seconds at dinner," Ignis commented.

The blonde lowered his hand. "Oh, y-yeah. It was the only way I could think of getting something to eat for (Y/n) while we were camping."

"Now we don't have to worry about that," the spirit said. She then clapped her hands together, grabbing the boys' attentions. "So, where to next?"

"Lestallum," Gladio answered. "Gotta check on my sister."

"Well then, shall we?"

"Aw, yeah! Let's go!" Prompto cheered.

<-----------<<<<<

When the group reached Lestallum, (Y/n) materialized from Prompto's bracelet and excused herself from the group as they headed to the Leville to speak with Iris. She wandered over to the outlook and stared into the distance at the Disc of Cauthess before her eyes drifted upward to the sky. Her attention was drawn to the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

Turning her head, she spotted a man with spiky black hair and piercing jade eyes. He wore a faded green jacket and a black t-shirt with matching combat pants and boots. The small jingling she heard as he walked was due to the dog tags he had hanging around his neck. By his attire, (Y/n) assumed he was a hunter. But what she didn't understand was why he was walking directly towards her. She wondered if he was just coming to take in the view instead of talking to her, but she was proven wrong when her golden eyes locked with his emerald ones and a smirk appeared on his face.

Sighing, the spirit turned her gaze back to the sky in an attempt to ignore the man. She prayed to the Astrals he would be able to tell how uninterested she was and simply walk away. Morosely, her prayer went unanswered as the stranger stood directly beside her and followed her line of sight. "Beautiful day, don't you agree?" He asked.

(Y/n)'s shoulders drooped as she sighed. Her eyes reverted back to gazing at the Disc. "You want something. That much is clear. Skip the sweet talk and get straight to the point. What do you want?"

The man chuckled at her snappy response. "A man can't talk to a beautiful woman without having a motive?"

"They can, but you're not one of those men. You clearly want something. What is it?"

He sighed, removing his hands from his pockets and sticking them up into the air. "You caught me red-handed. I was gonna ask if you could accompany me to the market and then I'd be able to convince you to join me for dinner."

(Y/n)'s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. "Of all the beautiful women walking around Lestallum, you chose me. You've horrible taste."

"Does that mean-?"

"No," she promptly interrupted him. "I wish you luck on your hunt for someone who will fall at your feet and follow you around like a lost puppy dog."

The man placed a hand over his chest and feigned a painful expression. "Ouch... You wound me, my lady. I'll need a potion to help heal my shattered heart."

(Y/n) uncrossed her arms and placed one of her hands on her hip. Turning her head, she glared at the stranger. "You really can't tell when you're not wanted, can you?"

He snickered and reached out to touch the guardian's arm. "Hey, listen, I'm-"

All of a sudden, the girl heard someone shout her name and felt an arm wrap around her waist. A faint gasp of shock fell from her lips as she was pulled into someone's side. Without having to look, she knew exactly who it was. "Prompto. When did you...?"

Prompto pressed his cheek against the side of the girl's head, his cheeks dusted with a light pink as he smiled widely. "Sorry I'm late, babe. Did I keep you waiting long?"

"B-Babe...?" The (h/c)-haired guardian murmured to herself, clearly confused as to why he used an affectionate nickname. After a few seconds, the pieces assembled in her head and her eyes widened. "O-Oh, not at all!" She wrapped both of her arms around his torso and hugged him tightly.

The man, who still had yet to properly introduce himself, glanced between the two. "Ah, I see. My apologies. I had no idea you were already spoken for." He smiled at the girl, which caused her to tense up slightly from the strange aura she detected from him. "I do hope we meet again, (Y/n). I would enjoy a proper conversation with you. You are a mystery I'd love to solve." He turned on his heels, waving over his shoulder as he strode off.

Once the nameless man was gone, Prompto loosened his arm around the girl's waist but kept his arm wound around it. "Who was that guy?"

"No idea," (Y/n) answered honestly. "He never told me his name. I'm glad you showed up when you did, Prom. He was starting to give me the creeps."

"You looked like you were about to toss him over the side of the outlook," the blonde chortled.

"You've no idea how close I was to turning him into a chew toy. By the way..." She kept her arms secured around his torso as she peered up at his face. "How'd it go at the Leville?"

"Good. We'll be spending the night here."

"Does this mean I'll get to sleep in an actual bed?" She asked, hope gleaming her golden-slitted eyes.

"You know it!" He smiled.

She smiled back, unwinding her arms from around his waist. When she tried to step away, Prompto's arm didn't budge. "Um, Prom? Could you let me go?"

"What?" He looked down and realized he was still latched on to her. "I-I, uh..." He quickly removed his arm and stepped away from her, flustered. "S-Sorry 'bout that, (Y/n)..."

"Don't apologize," she giggled. "I quite enjoyed it." She saw his cheeks turn an even brighter red all because of her. She knew exactly what to say and do to fluster the boy.

Just then, Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis wandered over. (Y/n) looked at the three, noticing the prince was staring at her. She tilted her head in confusion. "Everything all right, Your Highness?"

That was when Noctis realized he was staring at the spirit. "Uh, no, just...kinda freaked out by the eyes."

"Noct!" Prompto whined.

The (h/c)-haired girl snorted with laughter. "It's okay, Prom. I'm not offended." She offered them a smile. "Pushing that aside, did you three need something?"

"We were hoping you both would join us for dinner," Ignis said.

She blinked in surprise. "Me too?"

"What's with the look?" Noctis asked. "You think we would just leave you out?"

"Maybe just a little," she laughed nervously. "After all, I am a stranger to you. Shouldn't you three be more weary?"

"Nonsense, (Y/n)," Ignis replied. "Your origin and dedication to Prompto are proof enough to earn our trust."

Her eyes widened. She was expecting it would be more difficult to earn their trust. She then smiled happily. "Then let's get something to eat."

The group headed back to the main thoroughfare and made their way to Surgate's Beanmine. They sat down at one of the tables and ordered their meals. While waiting, Noctis was once again staring at the (h/c)-haired girl. Prompto was the first to notice and groaned, "Dude, you're staring..."

The prince blinked a few times before apologizing to (Y/n). "Sorry, it's just...I'm trying to figure something out."

"And what's that?" The marksman asked.

"How come I never saw (Y/n) when I came over to your apartment?"

The spirit laughed at the question. "You never checked the closet. That's where Prompto stuffed me whenever any of you came over."

Ignis sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. "What an awful way to treat a lady, Prompto."

"I-I know! I just...wasn't comfortable introducing (Y/n) to you guys," the sharpshooter explained.

"But still. The closet...?" Noctis muttered.

Gladio casted a smirk in Prompto's direction. "Why? You think one of us would've stolen her from you, blondie?"

Prompto hung his head. "Guess so..."

The shield was taken aback at his honesty. "Well, damn. Wasn't expecting that response."

(Y/n) saw how uncomfortable Prompto was and changed the subject. "So, what's your plan from here?" She looked around at the four faces around the table.

"Find the royal arms," Noctis said. "And something called the conduit."

"Conduit?" The girl muttered.

"Cor didn't really explain," he answered.

"I see..."

Just then, their meals arrived. Everyone ate in silence, enjoying the delicious food. Once they finished eating, they sat at the table a little longer. Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis were still curious about (Y/n) and asked her some questions about herself. She, of course, was more than happy to share a few things about her. In exchange, she learned a little about them.

As she chatted with the three, Prompto felt relieved and happy to see how well they all were getting along. He slumped back in his seat, listening to them converse.

After their chat ended, the group headed back to the Leville. They went to their room. The four boys gathered around the coffee table and pulled out a deck of cards. (Y/n) wandered across the room towards the open balcony door. She strolled outside, the cool air whipping through her (h/c) locks.

Casting her golden gaze to the sky, she watched as the sun set and gleaming stars filled the sky. Her eyes trailed across a certain cluster of stars-the Celestial Crescent. Ever since leaving Insomnia, she felt a strange presence from the cluster of stars and thought she heard someone trying to speak to her whenever she gazed upon them.

"(Y/n)?"

The guardian tore her gaze away from the sky and smiled as Prompto joined her on the balcony. "Hey, Prom. I thought you were playing cards with the others."

"You do realize you've been out here for a couple of hours, right?"

She blinked in surprise. "I...did not realize."

"Y'know, you look up at the sky more often than when we were in the city," he said. "It's almost like you're in some kinda trance."

(Y/n) leaned against the railing and looked back up at the night sky. "There's this cluster of stars only spirits can see. It's known as the Celestial Crescent. As the name states, it's a collection of stars shaped like a crescent."

Prompto looked up at the stars. "Is it pretty?"

"There're so many colors," she sighed contently. "I wish you could see it too."

Suddenly, Gladio poked his head out of the room and eyed the two. "Hey, you two comin' inside or staying out here all night?"

Prompto and (Y/n) went back inside. The blonde flopped down on the bed while the girl remained standing. She didn't know what to do with herself when seeing the other bed was occupied by Noctis and Ignis.

The shield noticed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You take the bed with blondie. I'll sleep on the couch."

"I couldn't do that," she retorted. "You take the bed. I'll return to the bracelet."

"Prompto already told us how stuffy and uncomfortable it is inside that gemstone of yours." He nudged her towards the bed. "A soft mattress sounds better than that bracelet. Besides, I can handle the couch."

"Well then, um... Thank you, Gladio." She climbed on to the bed, curling up into a ball. She stared at Prompto's back for a few minutes until he flipped over.

The blonde gasped when his cerulean eyes met gold-slitted ones. Realizing his face was a few inches from (Y/n)'s, he stumbled over his words as he tried to apologize. He scooted back to put some distance between them, but wound up falling off the bed with a shriek.

The girl crawled over to the edge of the bed and peered down at him. His arms and legs were sprawled out across the floor. "You okay, Prom?"

He nodded with a faint blush. "I-I'm okay..."

"If sleeping next to me makes you uncomfortable, I can-"

"No!" Prompto shot up and immediately crawled back onto the bed. "I-I'm not uncomfortable. I was just surprised to see you there instead of the big guy."

"So that means I can stay here, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Sorry for freaking out..."

"It's fine." (Y/n) laid back down on her side of the bed, making herself comfortable. "Good night, Prom."

Prompto laid down with his back facing the girl, cheeks still tinted a bright red. "'Night, (Y/n)."

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv x reader #final fantasy xv #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader #prompto argentum

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strawberries-and-summer-days · 2 months

Text

"Date Night"

Pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x iris!fem!reader

Summary: you and your boyfriend luke sneak out to have a date night.

Contains: fluff, kissing, and swearing, reader is kind of insecure as well. [established relationship]

Word Count: 1271

A/N: I have only read the first book and watched the series so far now (my damn bookstore didn't have the whole series but whatever) and i officially have a luke obsession :D (btw this isn't proof read lol)

"For the last time y/n," Luke smiles. "You look lovely, would you just come out of your cabin?"

You smile shyly. "You haven't even seen me yet Luke," you say, still just sticking your head out of the door. You've always been - not super insecure - but aware of the fact that you aren't a child of Aphrodite who are all shiny hair and pretty eyes. As a child of Iris, you see the way they practically radiate light and colour, the way you don't.

Shoving down your nervousness you step out into the night self consciously tugging the short black dress you have on. Luke's face lights up when you step out, his eyes devouring you hungrily from head to toe.

"Wow... uh, wow," he stammers, stepping forward to help you down the stairs. "You look gorgeous, sunshine."

"I can say the same for you Castellan," you say, stepping into his warmth and adjusting his crooked collar. Luke was wearing black suit pants and a white button up shirt with a suit jacket over the top.

Luke pulls you flush against his side and intertwines your hands together leading you through the darkness sneaking through the camp.

"Are you sure we won't get caught?" you whisper as Luke leads you away from the cabins.

"Sunshine I used to do this all the time, I'm sure." You raise an eyebrow at him in question and Luke back tracks quickly. "Not with other girls, by myself, I used to sneak out by myself."

You chuckle and wrap an arm around Luke's waist, "I would've definitely expected at least Chiron to be looking out for us tonight.

"I fixed that problem easy," Luke smirked. "I bribed him."

"That worked?" you ask slightly impressed.

"No, it didn't, but I told him the date was tomorrow night," Luke winks and wraps his arm around your waist walking you into the night.

"As long as I don't get kidnapped, pretty boy."

An hour later you're both sitting in a restaurant with several bowls of food sitting in front of you both. "Well shit, do you think we ordered enough food?" you deadpan.

Luke looks at you and smirks. "I dunno, maybe we should consult the menus again."

You grin and pick up a fork sating your hunger with the bowl of pasta in front of you. Luke slowly starts to eat, keeping his eyes trained on you.

"What?" you ask when you notice his stare.

"Nothing," he smiles and continues eating.

Throughout dinner you catch Luke looking at you strangely, he brushes it off each time you ask what's wrong. Worry starts to work its way into your mind and you try your very best to brush it off.

While Luke pays the check, you feel a sudden rush of nervousness.

You picture yourself painting then - whenever you paint it brings an immense amount of comfort - and a soft wave of happiness washes over you.

Luke notices when a soft smile appears in your face and knows you're imagining yourself painting. He often catches you in situations when you've drifted into your own little world.

"What are you painting this time sunshine?" He asks, watching as you snap out of your daze.

"Oh," you blink over at Luke - he always seems to be able to tell when you've spaced out. "I was painting.... um, you," you offer suddenly shy.

Luke grins and gets out of his seat offering you his hand. "You ready to go, sunshine?" You nod and take his hand intertwining your fingers. Luke raises your joined hands and places a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You both leave the restaurant and slip out to the street walking hand in hand, with you leaning into Luke.

"Tonight was lovely," you say, smiling softly.

"It's not over yet, sunshine," Luke whispers and leads you down the street gripping your hand a little tighter. He leads you to a small park off the street and pulls you to a stop wrapping his arms around you waist while you walk. "One last surprise."

A soft yellow light flickers around the corner. You pull away from Luke and round the corner to see a blanket on the ground and candles surrounding it.

"Luke?" you ask, fighting a smile. "What's this?"

"Your surprise," he smiles at you. And you plop down on the blanket looking up at the sky - the stars shining brightly.

Luke sits down next to you and wraps an arm around your waist pulling you closer. You turn into him and place a soft kiss on his cheek. "Tonight was perfect," you whisper and then almost inaudibly. "I love you."

Luke stills, his breathing shallow and his heart almost beating out of his chest. "What was that?" he asks softly. You've both never said that aloud before.

You smile and look into his eyes, placing a hand on his cheek. "I love you."

Luke's face melts. "I love you," he says softly, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. "You're my sunshine. I love you so much." He presses his mouth onto yours, kissing you softly.

Your mouth responds to him instantly and you wrap your hands around his neck. Luke deepens the kiss and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

He groans into your mouth and his tongue slips in meeting your own. He rolls you both over so you're hovering over top of him. Your hair falling in a curtain around both of your faces.

"I love you," you repeat and Luke smiles up at you adoringly. He leans up and chases your lips until they find them, kissing you fervently, smiling against your lips.

"You're my sunshine," he smiles. "I love you. You're the sunshine on my dark days," Luke's smile grows when he sees you zone out suddenly. "You painting this?"

"Yeah, I was," you admit sheepishly.

"Does it look good?" he asks.

"Always." You blink and look down at Luke, a wave of affection hits you for the boy who didn't get mad at you when he noticed you zoned out at a time like this. You sit up and pull him up, settling down in his lap.

“I see the way you compare yourself to other girls sometimes,” he says quietly. “But you have to know. That they don’t hold a flame to you. You’re beautiful.” He sees that you’re about to protest but he kisses you before you can. “No. You’re perfect y/n. I love you for you. I love you for the splotch of paint you sometimes have in your hair, I love you for the way you zone out and can paint an entire moment in your head. I love you for the way your face lights up when you talk about something you love. I love you and there is no changing that, sunshine.”

You look up at him and kiss his jaw. “I love you so much,” you say fiercely. “No take backs.”

You’re both quiet for a few moments.

"Why were you looking at me weird at dinner?" you ask suddenly.

"I was nervous," Luke admits, smiling slyly. "I was going to tell you I loved you tonight - but it seems like you beat me to it sunshine."

"I always win, pretty boy don't you forget that."

Luke grins and tucks his face into your neck. "I most certainly won't."

"Now that you're in love with me, it's official - you're never winning again," you smirk and run your hand up and down his arm.

"When it comes to you, sunshine, I'm forever okay with losing."

#luke castellan #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson fic #fanfic #fanfiction #percy jackson #emma writes ₊˚⊹⋆

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tickle-bugs · 3 years

Text

Extraordinary

Summary: Makoto’s a bit haunted by the lack of normalcy in Hope’s Peak--at least, whatever shreds of normalcy could survive in a place like that. Hina, Sakura, and Kyoko bring him some measure of peace.

@naegiristan Here’s your TOC fic! I apologize for it being so late, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless :) Thanks to the lovely @peachytickles for hosting this with me. I had a blast. @ticklesofcolor

There’s a lengthy conversation about food/healthy eating in the beginning, so TW/CW for food.

Living at Hope’s Peak had forced Makoto to severely recategorize the way he viewed himself. Being ordinary was just...who he was. There was no word for it before. Makoto was himself, and that’s all that he ever needed to be. School life, if he could even call it that, had wrenched that comfort away from him.

How was he supposed to be ordinary amongst the world’s foremost geniuses? What was the point of being ‘just Makoto’ when everyone else was so much more?

“Heads up!” The call snapped Makoto out of his thoughts. He turned and caught a facefull of frosting and sprinkles. He narrowed his eyes at Hina, not exactly annoyed but not exactly happy either.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Hina wheezed, not even bothering to hide her giggles.

“I’m fine.” Makoto wiped a bit of frosting from his nose and popped it in his mouth. Hm. Strawberry.

“You looked like you could use a donut. I take my friends’ donut deficiencies very seriously.” Hina took a seat by his left, sliding the dozen box to sit between them. Sakura sat on his other side, graceful as always, and took a glazed donut from the box.

“Sakura!”

“Hmm?” She looked up, donut in mouth, and Makoto stifled a chuckle.

“You’re...having a donut?” Hina stared in open-mouthed wonder.

“I can have cheat meals sometimes.” Sakura averted her eyes, uncharacteristically bashful.

“I thought you hated donuts! I feel betrayed!”

“It’s reverse psychology, Hina. It makes cravings easier.”

“Next you’re gonna tell me you actually love cake.” Hina huffed, and when Sakura stayed quiet, she threw her hands up in exasperation.

“We’re soulmates! I’m supposed to know these things about you! My whole life is a lie!” Hina whined, dropping her head in her hands. Sakura leaned around Makoto to pat her back, chuckling at her dramatics.

Kyoko drifted over with perfect timing, taking a graceful seat before Hina could declare a divorce.

“Hey, Kyoko.” Makoto smiled. Her eyes lingered on his face for a while, longer than usual, and it occurred to him that he still had frosting on his face. He pulled napkins from the dispenser on the table and dipped them in his water glass, choosing speed over discretion as he scrubbed at his face.

“Hina. Sakura. Makoto.” Her lips quirked up on his name.

“Do you have plans, Kyoko?” Hina slid the box to Kyoko, but she didn’t take a donut.

“Why do you ask?”

“Sakura and I were gonna go up to the art room. Wanna come?”

“I suppose.” Kyoko smiled.

……………..

“Guys, look!” Hina gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Is that...Celeste?” Sakura wrinkled her nose, slipping past Hina to get a better look. Nearly every surface in the room was covered in images of Celeste, from paintings to sketches--even a sculpture or two sat at the back of the room.

“Hifumi must have drawn these,” Kyoko sighed, thumbing through a discarded sketchbook--unfortunately, also filled with drawings of Celeste.

“What makes you say that?” Makoto looked over Kyoko’s shoulder. The drawings were good--no, great, actually, if one could get past the creepiness of it all. Did Celeste know about all of this?

“He’s obsessed with her.” Kyoko held up a more tame drawing of Celeste looking out a window. Something at the back of Makoto’s mind stirred upon seeing it, but the feeling fled as quickly as it came.

“I think he’s a little more than obsessed.” Sakura gestured at an easel with an Elizabethan-style portrait of Celeste on a throne, revelling in excessive jewels and finery. Celeste had to know, then. This was the kind of thing she’d force Hifumi to make, anyhow.

“I want a creepy portrait now! Let’s make them for each other!” Hina giggled, appraising the portrait of Celeste with open amusement.

“I’m not an artist, Hina.”

“Who cares? It’ll be fun! You and I can do each other. I won’t judge you. Makoto and Kyoko, why don’t you guys swap as well?” Hina shoved brushes and palettes into everyone’s hands, leaving no room for argument. Though Makoto really wanted to argue. There was no way Kyoko would--

“Alright.”

“Y-Yeah. Sounds good.” He coughed, dumping his supplies at the nearest station. Sakura came around with canvases for them, delicately setting them on the easels.

Painting was rather relaxing, once Makoto got into it. Some of his anxieties melted away as he meticulously blended the paint, trying to capture the lavender undertones of Kyoko’s hair. He cut the line of her easel across the canvas with a thick brush, and in one fell swoop, outlined the curve of her head peeking out behind it. The creepy piece of the activity was lost on Makoto from the moment he started--he had to do Kyoko justice.

He leaned in close for the most important part: Kyoko’s eyes. They both weren’t visible, but her right eye peeked out just enough for him to capture the gentle violet. He dabbed tiny reflections into the iris, giving her eyes the shining life that he’d always admired. He wondered if his eyes looked like that. Probably not, anymore.

The sensation of something light and fluffy sweeping across his nape rudely interrupted his musings and nearly sent him onto the floor. The feeling zipped along the side of his neck and hopped up to his ears--he tilted out of his chair at that point, and Sakura’s sharp reflexes were the only thing saving him from an untimely demise. She righted his chair with him still in it and smiled.

“Hina!” Makoto slapped a hand to the back of his neck, cheeks blazing red. Hina’s grin told him all he needed to know, but the paintbrush dangling between her fingers told him more.

“Sorry! Had to snap you out of it. We’re going to go get dinner, if you want to join us.” Hina squeezed his shoulder and it only tickled worse. He tried to discreetly pry her hand off of his shoulder but there was no room left for playing natural.

“You guys go ahead. I’m not hungry.” He cursed himself for the way his voice cracked. He saw Kyoko glance at him from the corner of his eye and he cleared his throat. Real smooth, Makoto.

“I’ll pass as well.”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” Hina looped her arm through Sakura’s and dragged her out of the art room, leaving Makoto and Kyoko silent and alone.

“I finished your painting.” Kyoko turned her easel to face him. What’d she painted certainly looked like him, if he squinted. The colors were all there, and she’d perfectly captured the one tuft of hair on his head that would never lie down. His face was a little lopsided, looking more like an emoticon than anything else. He adored it more than words could describe.

He needed words, though, because Kyoko was staring expectantly.

“I….it’s…” Would cute sound patronizing? Maybe endearing was alright. No, that would be worse.

“You can say it’s horrible.”

“It’s perfect, Kyoko.” He ran his thumb over her signature in the bottom corner.

“Can I see yours?”

“Oh, uh. Sure.” He turned his easel towards her, eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“Makoto.” He looked up, expression neutral.

“This is wonderful,” She whispered. Tears glistened in her eyes, threatening to fall, and Makoto frantically passed her tissues from his pocket.

“Kyoko, hey--”

“I’m just grateful, that’s all. Thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing to me. Thank you.” She took the painting from the easel and held it protectively.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled.

………………………………..

“I want what they have. Sakura and Hina, I mean.” Makoto unlocked his door and held it open for her.

“A lesbian relationship?”

“Wh--no, of course not. Wait. They’re together?” Makoto’s jaw dropped.

“Makoto, your lack of perception worries me sometimes,” Kyoko huffed, slipping past him with the paintings. She rested them against the wall near the door as Makoto worked his jaw, trying to remember how to speak. It made sense, but how could he not notice?

“Listen, my point is that I want normalcy. I want to laugh with someone who means something to me. As messed up as it is that we’re trapped here--” He gestured to his room-- “I’d like to at least have friends like everyone else.” He flopped on his bed. She sat more gracefully beside him.

“I’m not very funny.” Kyoko shrugged. He squinted confusedly at her for a moment.

“That’s okay, Kyoko. You don’t have to be. I’m just complaining about something stupid.” He sighed deeply and fiddled with his jacket sleeves.

“I may have a different way of making you laugh, though.”

“Oh?” He looked up.

“You might hate it. Just...tell me to stop if you do.” She made eye contact with him, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was...nervous? He’d never seen her like this. It was equally endearing and unsettling.

The skittering of nails around his collarbones stopped his train of thought dead in its tracks.

“K-Kyoko! Wait!” He squealed, giggles bursting from him before he could even think to hold them back. She withdrew her hands as if she’d been burned, watching him intently.

“You didn’t have to...I mean...I-It’s okay if you…” Makoto waved his hands around, well-aware that the stammering was losing him any cool points he may have had with her.

“You like this.” A statement, not a question.

“I think so? Y-Yeah, I do. It’s fun, and you’re fun, and--”

“Makoto.” Kyoko silenced him with the tenderness of his name. “It’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” She smiled--smiled!--at him, and his heart flipped in his chest. They gazed at each other for a moment, warm and inviting, and it would’ve been great if Kyoko didn’t ruin it by tickling his ribs. Makoto squawked and fell backwards on the bed, giggling at machine-gun speed. He grabbed at her arms to have something to hold and she chuckled at him, sliding her hands down to his sides. She moved languidly, calculating every move before Makoto could react to her last one.

“Just so you know, Makoto, you mean something to me, too. So in a way, we’re both getting normalcy.” She hummed and scribbled curiously at his stomach, laughing softly at his attempts to curl up. He wondered if she knew how awful her nails were, even through his shirt. His survival instincts advised against telling her, though--she’d likely never leave him alone.

If Makoto could see through his mirth-squinted eyes, he might’ve seen Kyoko staring down at him fondly, smiling wider than she had since they’d arrived at Hope’s Peak. Instead, he cycled between swatting at her hands and hiding his face, absolutely overwhelmed on all fronts.

“Yeah,” she whispered softly, applying enough pressure to make Makoto shriek, “Ordinary is just what I needed.”

If he wasn’t giggling so hard, he’d’ve told her that she was what he needed, too.

#danganronpa #ticklish!makoto #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #hope you like it <3

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kookie-doughs · 3 years

Text

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 15: Spiders Aren't Water Proof

The next afternoon, June 14, seven days before the solstice, our train rolled into Denver. We hadn't eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in Kansas. We hadn't taken a shower since Half-Blood Hill, and I was sure that was obvious. "Let's try to contact Chiron," Annabeth said. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit." "We can't use phones, right?" "I'm not talking about phones." We wandered through downtown for about half an hour, though I wasn't sure what Annabeth was looking for. The air was dry and hot, which felt weird after the humidity of St. Louis. Everywhere we turned, the Rocky Mountains seemed to be staring at me, like a tidal wave about to crash into the city. Finally we found an empty do-it-yourself car wash. We veered toward the stall farthest from the street, keeping our eyes open for patrol cars. We were four adolescents hanging out at a car wash without a car; any cop worth his doughnuts would figure we were up to no good. "What exactly are we doing?" Percy asked, as Grover took out the spray gun. "It's seventy-five cents," he grumbled. "I've only got two quarters left. Annabeth?" "Don't look at me," she said. "The dining car wiped me out." I fished out my last bit of change and passed Grover a quarter, which left me two nickels and one drachma from Medusa's place. "Excellent," Grover said. "We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping." "What are you talking about?" He fed in the quarters and set the knob to FINE MIST. "I-M'ing." "Instant messaging?" "Iris-messaging," Annabeth corrected. "The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods. If you know how to ask, and she's not too busy, she'll do the same for half-bloods." "You summon the goddess with a spray gun?" Grover pointed the nozzle in the air and water hissed out in a thick white mist. "Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow."

Sure enough, late afternoon light filtered through the vapor and broke into colors. Annabeth held her palm out to me. "Drachma, please." I handed it over. She raised the coin over her head. "O goddess, accept our offering." She threw the drachma into the rainbow. It disappeared in a golden shimmer. "Half-Blood Hill," Annabeth requested. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I was looking through the mist at strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance. We seemed to be on the porch of the Big House. Standing with his back to us at the railing was a sandy-haired guy in shorts and an orange tank top. He was holding a bronze sword and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow. "Luke!" I called. He turned, eyes wide. I could swear he was standing three feet in front of me through a screen of mist, except I could only see the part of him that appeared in the rainbow. "Y/N!" His scarred face broke into a grin. "Is that Annabeth and Percy, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?" "We're... uh... fine," Annabeth stammered. She was madly straightening her dirty T-shirt, trying to comb the loose hair out of her face. "We thought—Chiron—I mean—" "He's down at the cabins." Luke's smile faded. "We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover all right?" "I'm right here," Grover called. He held the nozzle out to one side and stepped into Luke's line of vision. "What kind of issues?" Just then a big Lincoln Continental pulled into the car wash with its stereo turned to maximum hip-hop. As the car slid into the next stall, the bass from the subwoofers vibrated so much, it shook the pavement. "Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke yelled. "I'll take care of it.'" Annabeth yelled back, looking very relieved to have an excuse to get out of sight. "Grover, come on! "What?" Grover said. "But—" "Give Percy the nozzle and come on!" she ordered. Grover muttered something about girls being harder to understand than the Oracle at Delphi, then he handed me the spray gun and followed Annabeth. Percy readjusted the hose so we could keep the rainbow going and still see Luke. "Chiron had to break up a fight," Luke shouted to me over the music. "Things are pretty tense here, guys. Word leaked out about the Zeus—Poseidon standoff. We're still not sure how—probably the same scumbag who summoned the hellhound. Now the campers are starting to take sides. It's shaping up like the Trojan War all over again. Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo are backing Poseidon, more or less. Athena is backing Zeus." In the next stall, I heard Annabeth and some guy arguing with each other, then the music's volume decreased drastically. "So what's your status?" Luke asked us. "Chiron will be sorry he missed you." We told him pretty much everything, including Percy's dreams. It felt so good to see him, to feel like I was back at camp even for a few minutes, that I didn't realize how long I had talked until the beeper went off on the spray machine, and I realized I only had one more minute before the water shut off. "I wish I could be there," Luke told me. "We can't help much from here, I'm afraid, but listen... it had to be Hades who took the master bolt. He was there at Olympus at the winter solstice. I was chaperoning a field trip and we saw him." "But Chiron said the gods can't take each other's magic items directly." "That's true," Luke said, looking troubled. "Still... Hades has the helm of darkness. How could anybody else sneak into the throne room and steal the master bolt? You'd have to be invisible." We were both silent, until Luke seemed to realize what he'd said. "Oh, hey," he protested. "I didn't mean Annabeth. She and I have known each other forever. She would never... I mean, she's like a little sister to me." I wondered if Annabeth would like that description. In the stall next to us, the music stopped completely. A man screamed in terror, car doors slammed, and the Lincoln peeled out of the car wash. "You'd better go see what that was," Luke said. "Listen, has the knife come in handy?" "Very..." I smiled. "The knife is really perfect." "And Percy, are you wearing the flying shoes? I'll feel better if I know they've done you some good." "Oh... uh, yeah!" Percy tried not to sound like a guilty liar. "Yeah, they've come in handy." "Really?" He grinned. "They fit and everything?" The water shut off. The mist started to evaporate. "Well, take care of yourself out there in Denver," Luke called, his voice getting fainter. "And tell Grover it'll be better this time! Nobody will get turned into a pine tree if he just—" But the mist was gone, and Luke's image faded to nothing. We were alone in a wet, empty car wash stall. Annabeth and Grover came around the corner, laughing, but stopped when they saw our face. Annabeth's smile faded. "What happened, Percy? What did Luke say?" "Not much," Percy lied. "Come on, let's find some dinner." A few minutes later, we were sitting at a booth in a gleaming chrome diner. All around us, families were eating burgers and drinking malts and sodas. Finally the waitress came over. She raised her eyebrow skeptically. "Well?" I said, "We, um, want to order dinner." "You kids have money to pay for it?" Grover's lower lip quivered. I was afraid he would start bleating, or worse, start eating the linoleum. Annabeth looked ready to pass out from hunger. I was trying to think up a sob story for the waitress when a rumble shook the whole building; a motorcycle the size of a baby elephant had pulled up to the curb. All conversation in the diner stopped. The motorcycle's headlight glared red. Its gas tank had flames painted on it, and a shotgun holster riveted to either side, complete with shotguns. The seat was leather—but leather that looked like... well, Caucasian human skin. The guy on the bike would've made pro wrestlers run for Mama. He was dressed in a red muscle shirt and black jeans and a black leather duster, with a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. He wore red wraparound shades, and he had the cruelest, most brutal face I'd ever seen— handsome, I guess, but wicked—with an oily black crew cut and cheeks that were scarred from many, many fights. The weird thing was, I felt like I'd seen his face somewhere before. As he walked into the diner, a hot, dry wind blew through the place. All the people rose, as if they were hypnotized, but the biker waved his hand dismissively and they all sat down again. Everybody went back to their conversations. The waitress blinked, as if somebody had just pressed the rewind button on her brain. She asked us again, "You kids have money to pay for it?" The biker said, "It's on me." He slid into our booth, which was way too small for him, and crowded Annabeth against the window. He looked up at the waitress, who was gaping at him, and said, "Are you still here?" He pointed at her, and she stiffened. She turned as if she'd been spun around, then marched back toward the kitchen. The biker looked at me. I couldn't see his eyes behind the red shades. Who did this guy think he was? He gave me a wicked grin. "So you're the unclaimed kid, huh? No wonder they're arguing over who your parent is." I squinted at him, "The hell does my parents have to do with this?" "Well, which ever stuck up your parent is, the big guys upstairs are angry for interfering with your life." He said and placed his dirty boots on the table. "Your parent raised you with your mortal idiots, that's why no one can smell you." I could tell Annabeth wanted to say something but she probably was processing what this guy said. "Don't call my parents idiot. And I only have two parents, it's M/N and D/N L/N." I glared. I was confused as to why an Olympian would raise me and it'd hide my scent. Shouldn't it make worse? "Sure thing." He then turned to Percy who was beside me. "And old seaweed's kid." "What's it to you?" Percy spat. Annabeth's eyes flashed him a warning. "Percy, this is—" The biker raised his hand. "S'okay," he said. "I don't mind a little attitude. Long as you remember who's the boss. You know who I am, little cousin?" Then it struck me why this guy looked familiar. He had the same vicious sneer as some of the kids at Camp Half-Blood, the ones from cabin five. "You're Clarisse's dad," Percy said. "Ares, god of war." Ares grinned and took off his shades. Where his eyes should've been, there was only fire, empty sockets glowing with miniature nuclear explosions. "That's right, punk. I heard you broke Clarisse's spear." "She was asking for it." "Probably. That's cool. I don't fight my kids' fights, you know? What I'm here for—I heard you were in town. I got a little proposition for you." The waitress came back with heaping trays of food—cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes. Ares handed her a few gold drachmas. She looked nervously at the coins. "But, these aren't..." Ares pulled out his huge knife and started cleaning his fingernails. "Problem, sweetheart?" The waitress swallowed, then left with the gold. "You can't do that," I told Ares. "You can't just threaten people with a knife." Ares laughed. "Are you kidding? I love this country. Best place since Sparta. Don't you carry a weapon, punk? You should. Dangerous world out there. Which brings me to my proposition." He turned to Percy, "I need you to do me a favor." "What favor could I do for a god?" "Something a god doesn't have time to do himself. It's nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little... date with my girlfriend. We were interrupted. I left my shield behind. I want you to fetch it for me." "Why don't you go back and get it yourself?" The fire in his eye sockets glowed a little hotter. "Why don't I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don't feel like it. A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself, Percy Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward?" He leaned forward. "Or maybe you only fight when there's a river to dive into, so your daddy can protect you." I wanted to punch this guy, but I knew he was waiting for that. He'd love it if I attacked. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But by the gods I want to smack him. Maybe some other time. "We're not interested," I said. "We've already got a quest." Ares's fiery eyes made me see things I didn't want to see—blood and smoke and corpses on the battlefield. "I know all about your quest, punk. When that item was first stolen, Zeus sent his best out looking for it: Apollo, Athena, Artemis, and me, naturally. If I couldn't sniff out a weapon that powerful..." He licked his lips, as if the very thought of the master bolt made him hungry. "Well... if I couldn't find it, you got no hope. Nevertheless, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your dad and I go way back. After all, I'm the one who told him my suspicions about old Corpse Breath." "You told him Hades stole the bolt?" "Sure. Framing somebody to start a war. Oldest trick in the book. I recognized it immediately. In a way, you got me to thank for your little quest." "Thanks," Percy grumbled. "Hey, I'm a generous guy. Just do my little job, and I'll help you on your way. I'll arrange a ride west for you and your friends." "We're doing fine on our own." "Yeah, right. No money. No wheels. No clue what you're up against. Help me out, and maybe I'll tell you something you need to know. Something about your mom and Y/N's parents." "Our parents?" He grinned. "That got your attention. The water park is a mile west on Delancy. You can't miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride." "What interrupted your date?" I asked. "Something scare you off?" Ares bared his teeth, but I'd seen his threatening look before on Clarisse. There was something false about it, almost like he was nervous. "You're lucky you met me, punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am. I'll meet you back here when you're done. Don't disappoint me." After that I must have fainted, or fallen into a trance, because when I opened my eyes again, Ares was gone. I might've thought the conversation had been a dream, but Annabeth and Grover's expressions told me otherwise. "Not good," Grover said. "Ares sought you out, Percy. This is not good." I stared out the window. The motorcycle had disappeared. Did Ares really know something about our parents, or was he just playing with me? Now that he was gone, all the anger had drained out of me. I realized Ares must love to mess with people's emotions. That was his power—cranking up the passions so badly, they clouded your ability to think. He does not lie. He knows about your parents. "It's probably some kind of trick, Y/N," Percy said. "Forget Ares. Let's just go." "We can't," Annabeth said. "Look, I hate Ares as much as anybody, but you don't ignore the gods unless you want serious bad fortune. He wasn't kidding about turning you into a rodent." "Why does he need us?" "Maybe it's a problem that requires brains," Annabeth said. "Ares has strength. That's all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes." "But this water park... he acted almost scared. What would make a war god run away like that?" Annabeth and Grover glanced nervously at each other. Annabeth said, "I'm afraid we'll have to find out." The sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time we found the water park. Judging from the sign, it once had been called WATERLAND, but now some of the letters were smashed out, so it read WAT R A D. The main gate was padlocked and topped with barbed wire. Inside, huge dry waterslides and tubes and pipes curled everywhere, leading to empty pools. Old tickets and advertisements fluttered around the asphalt. With night coming on, the place looked sad and creepy. "If Ares brings his girlfriend here for a date," I said, staring up at the barbed wire, "I'd hate to see what she looks like." "Y/N," Annabeth warned. "Be more respectful." "Why? I thought you hated Ares." "He's still a god. And his girlfriend is very temperamental." "You don't want to insult her looks," Grover added. "Who is she? Echidna?" "No, Aphrodite," Grover said, a little dreamily. "Goddess of love." "I thought she was married to somebody," Percy said. "Hephaestus." "What's your point?" he asked. I suddenly felt the need to change the subject. "So how do we get in?" "Maia!" Grover's shoes sprouted wings. He flew over the fence, did an unintended somersault in midair, then stumbled to a landing on the opposite side. He dusted off his jeans, as if he'd planned the whole thing. "You guys coming?" Annabeth, Percy and I had to climb the old-fashioned way, holding down the barbed wire for each other as we crawled over the top. The shadows grew long as we walked through the park, checking out the attractions. There was Ankle Biter Island, Head Over Wedgie, and Dude, Where's My Swimsuit? No monsters came to get us. Nothing made the slightest noise. We found a souvenir shop that had been left open. Merchandise still lined the shelves: snow globes, pencils, postcards, and racks of— "Clothes," Annabeth said. "Fresh clothes." "Oh my gods yes." "Yeah," Percy said. "But you can't just—" "Watch us." She snatched an entire row of stuff of the racks and offered me a hand which I graciously took, together we disappeared into the changing room. "I need a shower." I groaned, while I changed. "We all do." She pointed out. A few minutes later we came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over our shoulders, obviously stuffed with more goodies. "What the heck." Grover shrugged. Soon, all three of us were decked out like walking advertisements for the defunct theme park. We continued searching for the Tunnel of Love. I got the feeling that the whole park was holding its breath. "So Ares and Aphrodite," Percy said, to keep my mind off the growing dark, "they have a thing going?" "That's old gossip, Percy," Annabeth told us. "Three-thousand-year-old gossip." "What about Aphrodite's husband?" "Well, you know," she said. "Hephaestus. The blacksmith. He was crippled when he was a baby, thrown off Mount Olympus by Zeus. So he isn't exactly handsome. Clever with his hands, and all, but Aphrodite isn't into brains and talent, you know?" "She likes bikers." "Whatever." "Hephaestus knows?" "Oh sure," Annabeth said. "He caught them together once. I mean, literally caught them, in a golden net, and invited all the gods to come and laugh at them. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That's why they meet in out-of-the-way places, like..." She stopped, looking straight ahead. "Like that." In front of us was an empty pool that would've been awesome for skateboarding. It was at least fifty yards across and shaped like a bowl. Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire. On the opposite side from us, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read, THRILL RIDE O' LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS' TUNNEL OF LOVE! Grover crept toward the edge. "Guys, look." Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top and little hearts painted all over it. In the left seat, glinting in the fading light, was Ares's shield, a polished circle of bronze. "This is too easy," I said. "So we just walk down there and get it?" Annabeth ran her fingers along the base of the nearest Cupid statue. "There's a Greek letter carved here," she said. "Eta. I wonder..." "Grover," Percy said, "you smell any monsters?" He sniffed the wind. "Nothing." "Nothing—like, in-the-Arch-and-you-didn't-smell-Echidna nothing, or really nothing?" Grover looked hurt. "I told you, that was underground." "Hey Percy, that wasn't nice." I glared. "Okay, I'm sorry." Percy took a deep breath. "I'm going down there." Pulling out my knife, "There isn't any monsters." "I'll go with Percy." Grover didn't sound too enthusiastic, but I got the feeling he was trying to make up for what had happened in St. Louis. "No," Percy told him. "I want you to stay up top with the flying shoes. You're the Red Baron, a flying ace, remember? I'll be counting on you for backup, in case something goes wrong." Grover puffed up his chest a little. "Sure. But what could go wrong?" "I don't know. Just a feeling. Y/N, will go with me—" "Yeah, I can go with." "Didn't take you as a romantic Seaweed Brain." Annabeth smirked. "What?" Percy's face was burning now, too. It made me laugh at how adorable he was. He turned to me and blushed even more. "Fine," he told us. "I'll do it myself." "Percy, I didn't say i don't want to come with!" I giggled. He started down the side of the pool, I followed, I hear him muttering about how this wasn't how its supposed go. Then I realized how we would've been surrounded by water. "Arthur Curry, if I drown I will beg Hades to have you." He paused and turned to take my hand and we continued walking. We reached the boat. The shield was propped on one seat, and next to it was a lady's silk scarf. I tried to imagine Ares and Aphrodite here, a couple of gods meeting in a junked-out amusement-park ride. Why? Then I noticed something I hadn't seen from up top: mirrors all the way around the rim of the pool, facing this spot. We could see ourselves no matter which direction we looked. That must be it. While Ares and Aphrodite were smooching with each other they could look at their favorite people: themselves. Percy picked up the scarf. It shimmered pink, and the perfume was indescribable—rose, or mountain laurel. He smiled, a little dreamy, and was about to rub the scarf against his cheek I frowned ripped it out of his hand and stuffed it in me pocket. "No." "What?" "Just get the shield, Arthur Curry, and let's get out of here." The moment he touched the shield, I knew we were in trouble. My hand broke through something that had been connecting it to the dashboard. A cobweb, I thought, but then I looked at a strand of it on my palm and saw it was some kind of metal filament, so fine it was almost invisible. A trip wire. "Wait," I said. "Too late." "There's another Greek letter on the side of the boat, another Eta. This is a trap." Noise erupted all around us, of a million gears grinding, as if the whole pool were turning into one giant machine. Grover yelled, "Guys!" Up on the rim, the Cupid statues were drawing their bows into firing position. Before I could suggest taking cover, they shot, but not at us. They fired at each other, across the rim of the pool. Silky cables trailed from the arrows, arcing over the pool and anchoring where they landed to form a huge golden asterisk. Then smaller metallic threads started weaving together magically between the main strands, making a net. "We have to get out," Percy said. "Woah I didn't know!" I said. Percy grabbed the shield and holding my hand we ran, but going up the slope of the pool was not as easy as going down. "I'm going to drown again aren't I? "Come on!" Grover shouted. He was trying to hold open a section of the net for us, but wherever he touched it, the golden threads started to wrap around his hands. The Cupids' heads popped open. Out came video cameras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding us with illumination, and a loudspeaker voice boomed: "Live to Olympus in one minute ... Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight ..." "Hephaestus!" Annabeth screamed. "I'm so stupid.' Eta is H.' He made this trap to catch his wife with Ares. Now we're going to be broadcast live to Olympus and look like absolute fools!" We'd almost made it to the rim when the row of mirrors opened like hatches and thousands of tiny metallic... things poured out. It was an army of wind-up creepy-crawlies: bronze-gear bodies, spindly legs, little pincer mouths, all scuttling toward us in a wave of clacking, whirring metal. "Spiders!" I said. I kicked these pests. Percy pulled me up and dragged my back toward the boat. "I am not staying here! I am so going to drown again!" The things were coming out from all around the rim now, millions of them, flooding toward the center of the pool, completely surrounding us. I told myself they probably weren't programmed to kill, just corral us and bite us and make us look stupid. Then again, this was a trap meant for gods. And we weren't gods. Percy and I climbed into the boat. Percy started kicking away the spiders as they swarmed aboard. I was swatting away some that I could. "Thirty, twenty-nine," called the loudspeaker. The spiders started spitting out strands of metal thread, trying to tie us down. The strands were easy enough to break at first, but there were so many of them, and the spiders just kept coming. I kicked one away from Percy's leg and its pincers took a chunk out of my new surf shoe. Annabeth was frozen from where she stood trying to keep away from us as much as possible. Grover hovered above the pool in his flying sneakers, trying to pull the net loose, but it wouldn't budge. Think, I told myself. Think. The Tunnel of Love entrance was under the net. We could use it as an exit, except that it was blocked by a million robot spiders. "Fifteen, fourteen," the loudspeaker called. Then I saw them: huge water pipes behind the mirrors, where the spiders had come from. And up above the net, next to one of the Cupids, a glass-windowed booth that must be the controller's station. "Annabeth!" Percy yelled. "Get into that booth! Find the 'on' switch!" Snapping out of her trance she turned. "But—" "Do it!" Annabeth was in the controller's booth now, staring at the buttons. "Five, four—" Annabeth sighed and started pushing every button, then looked up at us hopelessly, raising her hands. She was letting us know that she'd pushed every button, but still nothing was happening. "Y/N, I won't let you drown, just hold on!" I didn't think twice on nodding. Percy closed his eyes. "Two, one, zero!" Water exploded out of the pipes. It roared into the pool, sweeping away the spiders. He pulled me into the seat next to us and fastened me seat belt just as the tidal wave slammed into our boat, over the top, whisking the spiders away and dousing us completely, but not capsizing us. The boat turned, lifted in the flood, and spun in circles around the whirlpool. He held my hand tight afraid I'll drown the moment he lets go. The water was full of short-circuiting spiders, some of them smashing against the pool's concrete wall with such force they burst. Spotlights glared down at us. The Cupid-cams were rolling, live to Olympus. Percy and I held tight, both of us screaming as the boat shot curls and hugged corners and took forty-five-degree plunges past pictures of Romeo and Juliet and a bunch of other Valentine's Day stuff. Then we were out of the tunnel, the night air whistling through our hair as the boat barreled straight toward the exit. If the ride had been in working order, we would've sailed off a ramp between the golden Gates of Love and splashed down safely in the exit pool. But there was a problem. The Gates of Love were chained. Two boats that had been washed out of the tunnel before us were now piled against the barricade—one submerged, the other cracked in half. Jump. We have to jump. "Unfasten your seat belt," I yelled to Percy. Who already had his belt unfastened. "Jumping?" "We're going to have to jump for it." My idea was simple and insane. As the boat struck, we would use its force like a springboard to jump the gate. I'd heard of people surviving car crashes that way, getting thrown thirty or forty feet away from an accident. With luck, we would land in the pool. Hopefully not drown. Percy nodded. He gripped my hand as the gates got closer. "On my mark," I said. On mine. Jump when 'I' say so Perseus Jackson. He looked at me reluctantly. "How?" "What?" You'll know when I say so. "Fine." He shouted. "Jump when I jump!" "How would I know?!" "You'll say it!" "What?!" "Just tell me when to jump!!" "Now!" I yelled. I was about to jump when Percy pulled me closer. "Not yet! You didn't say it yet." Jump Hero. Percy jumped. I followed him. Crack! He was right. If we'd jumped when I thought we should've, we would've crashed into the gates. He got us maximum lift. Our boat smashed into the pileup and we were thrown into the air, straight over the gates, the pool was getting closer. I was going to drown again. Something grabbed me from behind. I yelled, "Ouch!" Grover! In midair, he had grabbed Percy by the shirt, and me by the arm, and was trying to pull us out of a crash landing, but we had all the momentum. "You're too heavy!" Grover said. "We're going down!" We spiraled toward the ground, Grover doing his best to slow the fall. We smashed into a photo-board, Grover's head going straight into the hole where tourists would put their faces, pretending to be Noo-Noo the Friendly Whale. Percy and I tumbled to the ground, banged up but alive. Ares's shield was still on Percy's arm. "Are you okay?" Percy panted. "Yeah... I didn't drown." Once we caught our breath, Percy and I went over to help Annabeth who was getting Grover out of the photo-board and thanked him for saving our lives. I looked back at the Thrill Ride of Love. The water was subsiding. Our boat had been smashed to pieces against the gates. A hundred yards away, at the entrance pool, the Cupids were still filming. The statues had swiveled so that their cameras were trained straight on us, the spotlights in our faces. I walked closer, "You guys suck." I blew blasphemy at the camera. Percy pulled me away. "Show's over!" Percy yelled. "Thank you! Good night!" The Cupids turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off. The park went quiet and dark again, except for the gentle trickle of water into the Thrill Ride of Love's exit pool. I wondered if Olympus had gone to a commercial break, or if our ratings had been any good. I hated being teased. I hated being tricked. And I had plenty of experience handling bullies who liked to do that stuff to me. Percy hefted the shield on his arm and turned to us friends. "We need to have a little talk with Ares."

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@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson X Reader #Percy Jackson X Y/N #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan #Luke castellan x reader #Y/N L/N #Y/N L/N and the halfbloods #Lightning thief #Book 1 #Chapter 15 #Fanfiction #Fanfictions

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sheep-and-lykos · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 5 - Daddy Kink (Gladio x Fem!Reader)

It was no secret Gladiolus was a dominant person both in his personality upon meeting everyone and in bed. Gladio loved how much he dwarfed you, how easy you were to pin against the mattress, how compliant you were, how at just the slightest touches you would unravel under his giant hands.

Gladio was not an asshole in bed. He could soft if he needed to be. He would make sweet love to you after you had a bad day either at work or in general. He would pamper you with kisses, do whatever you asked whether it was just to eat you out or just be slow in bed. Gladio loved being soft with you, but he loved being rough even more.

Rough kisses, spankings if you were either teasing him too much or taking your sweet time, biting, scratching, hickies he enjoyed seeing you fuss over in the mirror in the morning on how you would manage to cover them. He’s even up for handcuffing you to the headboard and railing you into the mattress until you couldn’t walk. But the reigning supreme kink he had to be that he loved to be called ‘Daddy’.

Yes, Gladiolus Amicitia loved to be called ‘Daddy’ in bed by you. He would get you to spew it from your mouth like a prayer, as if you were a broken record of some sort. It was like sex to his ear, he wanted more.

So you decided to give him more.

Turning down winding corners in the Citadel was unnerving at first but you had gotten the hang of it once you remembered to take a left here instead of a right and go straight instead of turning. You had grasped the cool, brassy handle of Gladio’s office door and opened it.

It was shocking to learn Gladio had an office in the Citadel, mainly because he was a shield and not an advisor like Ignis. No surprise that Gladio barely used it, only to set down things like a coat if it’s winter, an extra change of clothes just in case (and of course a few boxes disguising cup noodles). In fact, Iris would use it more than Gladio to do her homework in for peace and quiet if she didn’t want to go back to the house. It was barely decorated, maybe a few paintings that they had put in, a nice rug before the desk, a couple of bookshelves with some of Gladio’s personal books and a few plants. But it was also where he would be if you were to come to visit him when he was working. His desk your table to eat upon and… at a few instances to fuck upon, thankfully never getting caught by anyone including Ignis who had nearly walked in on you giving Gladiolus a handjob under the desk.

But upon arriving, you saw he, Noctis and Ignis were all gathered around sorting out a few folders of paperwork Gladio needed to sign. Ignis struck up a charming conversation with you on his new recipe that sounded absolutely divine while Noctis and yourself had played a quick round of King’s Knight before all of the paperwork had been signed and put away, now tucked away under Ignis’ arm. The advisor and prince wished you a good afternoon before leaving you and Gladio to your lunch breaks.

Cup noodles were on the menu for today (like most days), Gladio-style with above and beyond extra ingredients like actual strips of rich meat and finely added real vegetables in the thick paper cups, somehow making the noodles taste even better than they were to begin with.

You both sat across from each other, usual conversation floated between you two. How the day was, juicy gossip, who was in Insomnia visiting, etc.

It wasn’t until you both had finished when Gladio stood from his chair before you. You assumed he would go towards his phone that was on the charger a little ways away to text Iris or his father like usual, only to feel his two hands come up and squeeze your shoulders.

You felt your heart plummet before it shot up to pound in your ears like war drums. You felt as though your cheeks were hit with a flask of fire magic.

Gladio leaned down and slowly nuzzled your ear, sharp teeth nipping at your earlobe. He growled darkly in your ear, crooning softly.

“I would just love to fuck you over my desk again,” he purred. His hands squeezing your shoulders tightened, bunching up the fabric of your sleeves. “I would love to see your ass in the air as I spank it, to hear you try to hide your moans behind your trembling hands. To hear you call out to me to fuck you even faster like the dirty little girl you are.”

You couldn’t help the soft whimper that pushed its way past your lips, eyes fluttering shut. You could already see it now. You could already feel it now. You wouldn’t even be able to drive back to the house, your ass would be raw and throbbing from his spanking.

“So why don’t you?” you whispered.

“I have to train the royal pain in the ass,” Gladio sighed, letting go of your shoulders. “Shame though, I would have loved to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock underneath my desk.”

An idea popped into your mind out of nowhere, an evil little grin spread across your lips.

You stood up, smiling to Gladio before placing a little goodbye kiss on his cheek.

“I’m sorry to cut this even shorter, but I just remembered I have errands to run.” You walked to the door but stopped when you had your hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you at home,” you glanced over your shoulder to your boyfriend, “daddy.”

The look on Gladio’s face had you laughing as you walked out the door. His eyes widened, it almost looked like he had lost all color from his hearty tan, his body was all rigid.

Upon entering your car, you saw you had a missed text message from Gladio.

‘You’re in trouble when I get home.’

You couldn’t help the coy little giggle that left you as you turned the keys in the ignition.

You had received multiple text messages upon arriving home, all from Gladiolus, all about how he was going to destroy your little pussy until you were begging for him to forgive you. There were also a few dick pics of him in the bathroom. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of his erect cock in all its glory. It was big, longer than average and thick enough to feel like it was tearing you apart. You were craving it.

Maybe you should have had a quickie? Just the thought of him bending you over his desk, fucking you senseless so fast had you drooling.

You had busied yourself for the rest of the day with mindless tasks. Cleaning, organizing the pantry, throwing out expired food, whatever you could do before it was time to make dinner for the two of you. Iris was at one of her friend’s houses for an overnight study session while Clarus would need to stay the night at the Citadel to hammer out some paperwork with the king.

Which left Amicitia Manor all to yourselves.

You knew in the back of your mind that Gladio would abuse that fact.

You had even changed out of your normal, comfy cotton underwear and bra to black lace with golden accents, something you knew would spice it up once Gladio would get home.

You were standing at the stove, stirring away in the pot when you heard a car door open and slam closed followed by the loud beep of it locking. You shivered as you could hear the frantic chiming of keys and the familiar clicking in the lock as someone unlocked the door. You heard the door close and lock not too soon after.

You were shaking with excitement but tried to hide it. You had your back to the kitchen archway, it was easier to hide your smile that had spread from one cheek to the other.

With each thundering footsteps towards the kitchen had your heart pounding louder and louder in your ears until you heard the familiar creak of someone entering the kitchen.

You were officially pinned between the stove and Gladio with nowhere left to run.

“You wanna explain to me why you decided to rile me up back there?” he practically snarled.

You took a few quiet, shuddering breaths, still stirring the pot before you.

You decided to try your luck with him even more. You knew you would get yourself in trouble, digging yourself a deeper grave, but it was always worth it in the end. Gladio always made it worth it.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently. “Did I do something wrong, Gladiolus?”

You heard him take a few more lumbering footsteps towards you.

“So now you’re playing the innocent card? Like you don’t know what you did back there?”

You turned off the stove and set the dripping spoon on the coaster. You turned to face him with the most innocent look you could conjure up.

“What are you talking about?”

You fucked up. Just looking at how sex-crazed he looked had your knees shake a little bit. Eyes dark, no specs of those lovely amber eyes you’ve fallen in love with. He was breathing heavily as though he ran in the Insomnian marathon. You could see his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and how it glistened just right from sweat and… oh Astrals you could feel your pussy aching. You needed him to fuck you, you wanted him so badly.

You suddenly shrieked, Gladio snatching you and tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing more than a sack of flour and carried you up the stairs, taking them three at a time. He practically tossed you onto the bed, closing the door with the back of his boot before quickly advancing towards you like he was some predator. It didn’t help that the curtains were still drawn shut from this morning, him looming figure seemingly bigger now.

You spread your legs for him to which he snatched at your pants and threw them off, hands yanking off your shirt from over your head. His eyes zeroed in on your laced underwear set, pupils were blown wide with primal lust.

It was like something inside of him snapped. His hands tore apart your panties with his strong grip, tossing the now destroyed materials over his shoulders before he unzipped his pants, pulled out his big cock and mounted you.

You cried, feeling Gladio immediately snatch at your breasts and squeeze them through the bra. He snarled in your ear, fucking you quickly as if his life depended on it.

“You’re such a dirty little girl, wearing slutty underwear for your daddy,” he nipped your ear. “Teasing me like that, how could you do that to me?”

“Gladdy!”

Gladio gripped at your hips roughly, bucking his hips, slamming his cock into your tight pussy. You felt like he was splitting you apart from how tight it was. You screwed your eyes shut, whining and moaning.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” he growled above you.

“I’m sorry daddy!” you cried. “I’ll never do it again!”

He started snapping his hips faster, hands dragging and pushing you away and into each thrust.

“You’re my little slut, you hear that?” You nodded weakly, clawing at the sheets below you. “Say it!”

“I’m your little slut, daddy! Only yours!”

“That’s fucking ri-” Gladio cut himself off with a moan as you came with a scream, your pussy seizing around his cock, squeezing his dick in all the right places. “I’m not fucking done with you yet.”

#gladiolus #gladiolus amicitia #gladiolus x reader #ffxv #ffxv imagines

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 3 years

Text

ART

The last chapter of the story. After this would be Confidential Information, which I realize doesn’t 100% fit anymore, but I did my best.

My computational power is astounding; my human crew and the researches back at the university have barely scratched the surface of what I can do. I know who is responsible for taking my friend, and I will make them pay.

Several things happen simultaneously, which would be confusing for a human but is completely normal for me. We enter the wormhole, and Kaede sends over the data files she managed to download before we left the repair facility station. Everyone looks through them, me included, while I navigate us to the closest exit.

I get to the good parts first. “They” are the SecUnit’s manufacturing company, and they have been tracking it for some time. So, it’s our fault that they have it. We exposed too much information when we made a seemingly innocent request for repairs.

The company wanted to study a rogue construct in a controlled environment, and now they have SecUnit. And it can’t give them what they want.

Not for long because now we have a plan, and ours is better.

Humans and constructs secrete chemical that make them afraid. I don’t. But despite that, I know what terror looks like, and for me it comes with permutations, with possibilities and probabilities. A hundred simulated scenarios play themselves out in my processors, and they all begin with a simple premise.

SecUnit belongs with my crew and with its clients on Preservation and else where. The company (and I refuse to call it anything else because SecUnit wouldn’t approve) will pay for this. The only question is how quickly.

I falsify all kinds of data while my humans reprogram a few of my repair drones into malicious little monsters that will attack the feed. I also calculate fuel consumption, remind my crew to eat and sleep, and look through navigational charts to determine the fastest means of reaching our next destination.

By the time we return to transit space, nearly a hundred hours have passed. From the bridge, Seth speaks up. “Are you ready?”

Always, I reply.

I’m angry at the ones responsible. SecUnit would call this kind of anger cold — but then again, it taught me about anger in the first place. It shared its experiences and reactions with me. And right now, I’m thankful for these feelings because they make everything so simple. The university will balk when we visit next; this is probably not what they intended when they started the AI program.

Our engines have been calibrated. Everyone should strap in when we get close.

“We get one shot at this,” Martin reminds the rest of the crew, most of whom are seated in the crew lounge and eating dinner.

We’re in transit for just over twenty hours. My humans sleep, and discuss, and worry. I calculate.

Three. Two. One. Zero.

We exit the wormhole back in the same system we left 121 hours ago. The company’s warship isn’t here anymore, but why would it be? It chased us away, and it had no reason to stay behind after that. But they will call for it again once they realize we’re back, so our time is limited.

Right now, they don’t know we’re here because I’ve made sure of that. As far as the station is concerned, we’re a completely different ship, one with a contract in the sector that has nothing to do with the company. I didn’t know if I could spoof my signature well enough to pass. Now, I know.

When no alarms go off, I take the next step and request permission to dock.

Human-centric systems run mindbogglingly slow, so it takes a while for them to answer. As soon as the station’s feed becomes available, I hack into the repair facility’s HubSystem. Against me, it stands no chance now that it’s not on high alert, and I don’t give it time to change its mind. SecUnit would be gentle — I am not.

“Remember our mission,” Martyn reminds me. “We rescue SecUnit and get out. That’s all.”

If they have harmed SecUnit, I will not hesitate to deploy pathfinders to make sure they never get a chance to try again.

Martyn chuckles as if I’m joking. I’m not.

Next up, a little subterfuge on the part of the humans. We dock, I shake hands with Port Authority, and my crew heads out into the station. I scour the feed and begin working through the repair facility’s other systems — one at a time — until they all think I’m the one giving orders. I catch whispers of systems that I can’t reach, the ones we wanted to infiltrate, but I don’t care at the moment.

I’m also monitoring my crew’s vital signs as they setup the modified drones in several inconspicuous places near the facility. We are going to need them for the next step. And, I’m listening to comms traffic in case anyone notices that we’re not who we say we are.

Station security has rescinded all of the alerts associated with me. They really don’t expect us here. They don’t see SecUnit as a person and so don’t expect anyone to mount a rescue. It’s time to demonstrate the error in their thinking. Seth and Martyn helped me see my errors when Iris and I were young. This will not be the same.

Then I find SecUnit, and…

If I had a heart, it would be breaking right now.

It’s along in a tiny cubicle, immobilized and rendered silent, aware but not entirely away. The humans have restrained it not only with its governor but also chemical means. Its file is within easy reach, and inside I find cycles of pain and fear unlike anything I have ever witnessed, recorded in minute detail for further study. It has survived, and perhaps that will be have to be enough.

It still has my transmitter, which the company never found. They have hurt my friend, many times, and now my anger is no longer cold and distant. I will make them hurt, starting with Maxime Deneault, who authorized the procedures and signed off on the pain. And then on up.

But first, I reconnect my friend to the feed. SecUnit? I ping its hardware address.

ART? It sounds hesitant, disbelieving.

I’m so elated I play the opening theme to Sanctuary Moon.

Asshole. It sounds relieved. Fucking hell, ART.

Its governor tries to punish it for the unprofessional attitude. SecUnit stiffens from the pain but can’t move enough to relieve any of the discomfort.

I’m getting you out of there. We have a diversion ready as soon as you’re up and moving.

Wait, it tells me. You need those files, right? Seth does, to implicate the colony leaders? Get them.

I’m here for you, idiot.

I know that. But this way, it won’t all be a waste. Ten minutes aren’t going to change the outcome.

A technician walks into SecUnit’s prison of a cubicle and tells it to follow him. They head down a hall into a research lab. I watch through the cameras and make plans, examine schematics.

No, I say.

SecUnit sends me some sigil equivalent of a middle finger, and the governor doesn’t like that, either. At least its attitude hasn’t changed. I don’t know if it has all of its memories, but it appears to have enough. Do what you came to do. And then, get me the hell out of here.

I want to argue, but I can’t say no to SecUnit.

Oh, and I’ll need help to make sure the tech doesn’t realize you’re here.

Don’t worry about it, I tell it just as I find those air-gapped and entirely feed-disconnected servers.

I’m also ruining the life of one Maxime and scrambling all the databases I can get my hands on that won’t set off alarms. I won’t risk SecUnit’s safety, not now, but I make a list of other names. Meanwhile, the technician tests SecUnit’s governor and I panic. Flat out panic. I am about ready to zap the asshole, but SecUnit tells me it will be fine. That this isn’t the worst it’s lived through.

I will make sure it will never live through anything worse again. And if that means wiping the company from existence, well that’s a small price to pay.

The end.

#murderbot #governor controlled #fanfiction

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izukuwus · 4 years

Text

Floriography 2

first - next

A/N: so y’all probs saw my posts about this, but ‘Walks Through the Garden’ has been renamed to ‘Floriography’ moving forward! we start to see a lil bit more of the magic in this chapter. I’m still ironing out details for the magic system but I’m having fun with it <3 we also see a little bit less of the flower symbolism. unfortunately, there’s only so many flowers in the world and I don’t wanna repeat flowers a bunch. (also not every scene is like... conducive to starting and ending with flower meanings >.<) sorry if that’s a huge draw for this series! I do plan on keeping with the flower symbolism whenever I have a proper opportunity for it, though!

Summary: Izuku has a request of your parents. (prince!arranged fiancé!Izuku Midoriya x princess!Reader)

Warnings: uh none really? some mild shitty gender roles as expected of being a female in a monarchy, mildly shitty dads

Word count: 3300+

Sweet peas thank the recipient for time spent together. White violets tell the recipient, "let's take a chance". Yellow water lilies signify a growing indifference, while a wilted flower carries the opposite meaning.

Your fiancé is two people in one body. You've learned this after just one dinner—there is Izuku, the prince, and then there is Izuku, your fiancé. The man you ate dinner with—Izuku, the prince—is distant, speaks in practiced words to fit into the mold he has been expected to grow into. Your fiancé Izuku is kind, almost meek. But he looks at you, sees you.

This much, at least, you can know from a single walk in the palace gardens together.

The morning after your meeting, you prepared a bouquet to be sent to him—sweet peas, white violets, and a single wilted water lily, just alive enough that you can see that it was yellow before it wilted. You'd arranged it by hand, carefully tying an iris around it before having it sent on to Izuku. You learned that same day that the date of your wedding was already set—at the end of the year, you'd be married.

Nine months until you no longer have a fiancé.

Nine months to, hopefully, fall in love with him, so that you can actually enjoy your own wedding.

Your fiancé is someone much more agreeable than you'd hoped, but still you find yourself wishing you were actually in love.

Not that he's making that hard. Every day in the month since your meeting, you've received a single flower and a handwritten note from the prince himself, each reading little things like "ignore the meaning of this one, I just thought it was pretty, so it suited you" and a short little blurb about how his day's gone. You've ended every day with a flower from him, and in the mornings, you send one back with your own short letter and ignore the amused looks your attendants share when they think you're too focused on composing a response or picking a flower to notice.

This morning is different, however. This morning, you magic off your response just after you've been dressed and prepared for the day and receive one immediately.

Sorry for the short notice, but do you think you could request an audience with your parents in my stead? I wish to see you again. My father has requested that you join me on my next trip through the countryside, so that you may learn your new kingdom before our marriage. If it's alright with you, I, too, would like for you to accompany me. Please let me know at your earliest convenience—I have the whole day. :) -Izuku

You smile, leaving your room with the note in hand. At breakfast, you set down your spoon and glance at your parents. "Mother? Father? Izuku has requested an audience with you, whenever it's convenient."

Your parents share knowing glances before your father turns back to you with a smile. "So you've been communicating with the young Prince."

"P-perhaps I have."

"That's good to hear. We'd love for him to visit properly, moreso than merely to have his audience and leave."

Your mother nods. "Invite him over for dinner!"

You blink slowly. "Oh, well, if that's the case, then I'll let him know once I've finished eating."

And you do—before you can be properly sat down for your morning tutoring session, you grab a piece of paper and write him back.

My parents said they'd be more pleased if you came over and spoke with them over dinner tonight. Is that okay?

Smiling to yourself, you doodle a little carnation at the bottom of the note.

Note: it's not striped.

You receive your response in the form of a beautiful drawing of a better carnation. In the bottom corner, it reads:

This one's not striped, either. I'll see you around sunset. (It's not yellow, either, right? This one's red.) :)

Despite the fact that he's completely blown your little carnation doodle out of the water, you can't help but smile fondly, feeling the tiniest amount of heat rush to your cheeks.

Carnations, when solid in color, indicate acceptance or "yes" to an answered question. Yellow ones invoke disappointment or rejection, while striped carnations are a clear statement of refusal. Red carnations are used to tell the recipient: "my heart aches for you".

You shift anxiously. Sunset is soon and you're ready for dinner. You'd be lying if you said you weren't really interested in this proposal of his—to get out of the palace for a while, spend some time talking with your fiancé properly, maybe even away from prying eyes so you can talk to him when he's not posturing and trying to act all princely? Of course you're interested. You'd be a fool not to be!

Eventually, you cast aside nervously pacing around your chambers to get some fresh air in the garden. (You're explicitly not waiting for Izuku's arrival, and no one can prove otherwise.) Naturally, you're accompanied by your guard, who watches from afar, hand on the hilt of his sword in preparation for the slightest thing to go wrong.

To his credit, for a second you think that it does. One moment, you're leaned over the fountain, investigating your reflection in the water and toying with a loose lock of hair, and the next, runes swirl in the air in front of you, green and orange wisps that foretell a teleport about to arrive. The brief scent of peaches and lemongrass is quickly overpowered by the scent of ash and gunpowder that follows, but you have just enough time to recognize the first before it's drowned out.

Eijirou is quick to pull you back and away, sword at the ready in case of intruders, but you grab his arm with a frown, intending to tell him about the familiar scent before he tries to cut someone down, and more importantly, you should move them from the water before there's a teleport mishap.

"Eijirou, wait–"

"It's alright, your highness," he says firmly. "Please step back."

You bite your lip, watching with anxious eyes as the runes finally take proper shape, dropping from their swirls two familiar faces, who land directly into the fountain with a loud splash.

"Eijirou, stand down," you order quickly, willing yourself not to swear as you rush forward. Speaking of swearing, Izuku's knight ('Kacchan', you think he was called?) is doing an awful lot of that as he climbs out of the fountain and extends a hand to help Izuku up.

The minute both men are out of the water, you curtsy with a profuse apology and begin focusing your magic. After rigorous magic tutoring earlier today so you could finish early, you're a little bit close to being tapped out, but you should still have enough left to dry them off.

You breathe in slowly as you lightly touch their arms. On an exhale, the excess water pulls away from both of their bodies and clothes. You struggle with the hair, but it's better not to pull all the water at once. Carefully, you will it back to the fountain, your runes dutifully carrying it away.

"You have my deepest apologies," you say quickly as you pop up on your toes to reach Izuku's hair and try to work out all the water with your magic. "I hadn't thought that you'd be using me as a teleport point, or I'd have not been standing so close to the fountain! In just a moment longer I'll have you cleaned up, so please hold still."

Izuku is silent as your fingertips brush his scalp, his eyes fluttering shut as you focus on the water. Frowning, you bring another hand up to assist you. His hair's so thick, pulling the water from it is nothing short of a struggle. Meanwhile, Eijirou focuses on helping the other knight dry his own hair.

With the water finally obeying you and pulling away from his curly locks, you have the moment to realize just how soft Izuku's hair is. It looks more like a mop than anything from a distance, but now, you feel almost like you're petting a kitten, a sensation only furthered by the fact that he's literally pressing his head into your hand. You honestly don't doubt that he'd be purring if he could.

Once you're properly done drying him off with a little magic, you remove one hand from his head to stifle your giggle. The other lingers in his hair just a moment. "Sorry, you have really soft hair. Did I miss any spots?"

You're careful to look him over for any wet spots on his clothes. His hair is back to its usual fluffy mess, causing you to wonder how much time his attendants must spend trying to tame it on a daily basis. When you're both satisfied that he's dry, you quickly pull the rest of the water out of his knight's hair and return all of it to the fountain.

"I really do feel the need to apologize again for that. I thought to pull your runes away from the water, but..."

Izuku shakes his head with a smile. "No, really, it's all right! I should have told you ahead of time that we'd be using you as the anchor point for our teleport. We must have startled you."

"Perhaps a bit, but once I realized it was you I was reassured!" You shoot him your best grin. "Are you two ready? I can go inquire as to when the dinner will be ready before announcing your arrival, if you'd like."

"Ah, yes, please," Izuku stammers. "I wouldn't want to rush your chefs, however—"

Izuku's cut off by the sudden swirl of familiar teleport runes in front of you. The smell hits your nose before you recognize the inky blue, and you crinkle your nose in distaste at the smell of seaweed. Your father's runes. What materializes isn't him, but a simple note, not even written in his own handwriting: Whenever Prince Izuku arrives, dinner is ready and waiting.

You smile. "Ah! Perfect!" You carefully stick out your tongue, pulling forth just enough magic to pull off your favorite new trick: teleporting just enough ink to a page to write without a pen. Izuku just arrived. I'll escort him to the dining hall.

You send back the note with a wave of your hand. "My father says that dinner is already prepared for whenever you arrive, my prince." You say the last two words in a playful tone, grinning at him mischievously and offering one arm to him. "If it pleases his highness, I'd be honored to escort you to dinner."

He chuckles, looping his arm through yours. "By all means, lead the way, m-my dear."

You giggle as you lead him out of the gardens. "You were so close to a smooth delivery there."

Izuku rubs the back of his neck with his opposite hand, blushing lightly. "S-sorry. I'll do better next time."

"I think it's endearing, actually," you comment, hiding a laugh behind your hand when he lets out a choked noise in response. "Only change if you want to, my prince."

"H-hey! Who's courting who, here?" he whines desperately, hiding his face. You toss your head back in a laugh. "Oh, but that actually reminds me!"

Izuku stops suddenly, turning to you and producing a single sprig of forsythia. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, and quickly pins it in place with the yellow blooms. "There. They suit you, Princess."

Your cheeks tinge pink at the sudden gift, worsened by the way he smiles and laughs lightly at your expression. "There, now I'm not the only one blushing."

With that, he pats your cheek, turns, and heads toward the door, opening it for you with sparkling eyes.

"Wh—hey! I'm supposed to be the one escorting you, you little—" With an indignant squawk, you scamper after your fiancé, cheeks still burning red.

Forsythia symbolizes anticipation.

"So, Prince Izuku," your mother says, carefully setting down her soup spoon to peer across the table at your fiancé. "My daughter tells us that you wished to speak to us?"

Izuku's calm and collected as he sets down his own spoon and swallows his food. When he's ready, he opens his mouth and speaks in even, princely tones that don't suit the Izuku you've come to know through his letters. You suppose this means that he's in 'Prince mode'. "Yes, that's correct, your majesty."

Your mother wrinkles her nose in distaste, waving her hand in front of her face as if she's smelled something unpleasant. "Oh, please, dear. If you're marrying my daughter, I'd rather you treat me like family."

"Oh, of course, ma'am. I didn't intend to offend you. I was surprised, actually, that you allow [name]—I mean the princess to refer to you so directly. My father insists on being addressed by his title at all times, no matter who is speaking to him, so I assumed you'd be the same..."

Your mother laughs. "No, nothing so strict. There are plenty of ways to command respect without the sort of iron fist King Hisashi rules with, if you don't mind my saying."

"Mother," you hiss. "Please refrain from insulting Izuku's father in front of him."

"Oh, no, it's all right, [name]," Izuku says. "I know my father isn't exactly... popular when it comes to others' opinions of him. It's refreshing to be far enough from his influence that I'm actually made aware of it, however."

Your father speaks, the first time since the two of you entered the room to eat. "You never answered the question, Prince."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at how overtly protective he's acting. Moons, he's the one who arranged your engagement to Izuku!

Izuku swallows, and from your proximity, you can see him reigning in his stutter to answer. "...yes. My apologies. I wanted to ask if you'd grant your permission to allow your daughter to accompany me on my seasonal trip through my father's kingdom. My father has historically insisted on these trips to encourage my growth into my role as heir to the kingdom and, hopefully, to build a sensible rapport with my people before I take the throne myself. Since Her Highness and I are to be wedded this year, my father has agreed that it would be ideal for her to join me, so that we might grow closer and our people might learn her face before the wedding occurs. And I, personally, would love to have her company on this excursion."

Your father eyes you with a raised eyebrow. "I assume your betrothed spoke with you about this ahead of time, [name]?"

You nod. "Yes, father. We spoke about it briefly through letters, though I haven't yet requested the full details."

"How many guards typically accompany you on these excursions, Prince?" your mother asks, a hint of interest in her voice.

"It varies depending both on time of year and the prevailing public opinion, but there's always at least four. I'm fairly proficient in combat, and the guards chosen to accompany are all those whom I trust and have been chosen through several combat trials to determine their ability to provide adequate protections. We try to keep the detail low, to prevent from straining resources for travel and not draw too much attention during my travels. If necessary, I'm sure my father would be happy to increase the numbers to ensure your daughter's safety."

"My daughter doesn't know her way around a sword," your father says darkly. (Patently false, but he doesn't need to know about your habit of watching the guards during their training when you have the time, or the fact that Eijirou is more than happy to show you your way around a blade when he accompanies you about the castle.) "If I allow this little excursion, it will be your head if she doesn't return to me unharmed."

"Father, please don't threaten my fiancé," you groan. "I am capable enough with both offensive and defensive magic to defend myself—"

"[name]," he says sharply, not sparing you a glance. "The men are speaking."

Wounded, you snap your mouth shut and return to your food in silence, keeping a trained ear on their conversation and an eye on Izuku, who seems to have gone stock-still at how you've just been addressed.

"Of course, your Majesty," Izuku says, voice strained. "I would never dream of allowing harm to come to her."

A tense silence falls over the room, until finally, it's broken. "The excursion would be followed by a week's stay in the royal palace, if your Majesties and her Highness are all in accordance. I proposed this to my father as a way to allow her Highness to meet with my family and acclimatize to the palace, rather than merely the surrounding kingdom." Izuku's knuckles are white as he grips his spoon.

"I'd prefer to speak with you about this matter in private, Prince," your father says through gritted teeth. You wither under the atmosphere, eyes glued carefully to Izuku as he barely conceals a glare in response.

You're suddenly regretting all the anticipation you'd had for this meal.

"Meet me in the palace gardens before you leave," you'd whispered in Izuku's ear as he left the room at the end of dinner. He nodded then, before following your father to his study with Kacchan in tow.

Your father is an imposing man when he wants to be. Izuku has to remind himself to stand firm, to not give off a moment's glimpse of weakness to the man standing across the room from him.

"If I'm being honest, I'd hoped that the son of the infamous King Hisashi would have been a bit more like his father," the man says, hands folded behind his back. He lets out a sigh, as if it's somehow inconvenient for him that Izuku doesn't demand fear from others or threaten another's life or livelihood at the smallest slight.

Yeah, I get that a lot, Izuku wants to say. Instead, he simply nods. "I see."

"It is not unappealing, per se, for my daughter to marry someone like you," he continues, "but it would be ideal if you could properly set her into her role. She plays her part well, but my daughter is always pushing. She treads the line of her limits, as you saw when she spoke out of turn earlier."

"I'd have to disagree, your Majesty. I don't think [name] was out of line at all," Izuku says firmly, surprising even himself. "I don't know enough about her skills in combat well enough to properly defend them, but if she felt the need to stand up for herself, then I'm glad she acted upon it. What's the point in living if she's to be a quiet little doll who ‘stays in line’?"

Your father doesn't turn his head to look at Izuku, sighing yet again. "I don't think we'll ever see eye-to-eye on this matter. Perhaps it's best if we simply–"

"Did you want to speak further about the excursion?" Izuku interrupts coldly. "I'd be happy to give more details if you have any concerns, but my father would be upset if I returned without a proper decision. He's a busy man, as I'm certain you know, and preparations can't effectively be made if we don't know how many will be attending."

"...color me impressed, Prince Izuku," your father says. "I wasn't aware you had a spine."

"I find it more sound to not play all my cards at once, your Majesty."

"[name] may accompany you for your little trip. Her personal knight—I'm sure you're acquainted—will accompany her. Let me be clear that I was serious about your head should she not return."

"I was serious when I said that I wouldn't dream of letting her come to harm." Izuku's gaze is challenging as he meets the man's eyes.

Your father finally looks Izuku in the eye, one eyebrow raised. "See to it that you don't, your highness."

Taglist: @tooloudarts @zylith-imagines-and-fics

#my fics #bnha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #fantasy au bnha #prince!izuku #princezuku #bnha royalty au #floriography fic #ooh look at me a chapter that's only 3k words

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bevioletskies · 3 years

Text

love will never do (without you)

summary: Despite his increasingly frequent social visits to Baker Street, none of its inhabitants have been able to convince Kazuma to stay for dinner. Ryunosuke is determined to finally change his mind.

word count: 6.7k | read on ao3

a/n: For @asoryuu-week, day three of seven (prompt: "family"). This fic takes place post-Resolve; mild spoiler warning for Adventures and Resolve, where events may be alluded to but not described in detail. All names and honorifics are taken from the official localization, with the exception of Haori, Sherlock, and Iris.

Fic title is from the song Love Will Never Do (Without You) by Janet Jackson.

“Are you sure you won’t stay, Kazuma? I promise Iris won’t be making roast chicken this time.”

Kazuma chuckled, drawing his coat a little tighter around his midsection as he buttoned himself up, though to Ryunosuke, it mostly seemed as if he were trying to avoid Ryunosuke’s pleading gaze. “I’m happy to hear that, but I’m afraid I can’t. Lord van Zieks and I are getting on a train first thing in the morning to attend that conference I told you about, remember?”

“You seem to spend more time with him than with us,” Ryunosuke said, frowning somewhat. “Though if it’s work-related, I suppose it can’t be helped. Next time, then?”

“No promises,” Kazuma said, offering him a regretful smile. “Enjoy your not-roast chicken dinner without me, won’t you? I’ll come by for tea sometime next week, and that’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Ryunosuke nodded. “Have a safe trip, Kazuma.”

“Have a good evening, Ryunosuke,” Kazuma replied, bowing his head slightly before disappearing into the carriage that awaited him. Sighing, Ryunosuke lingered on the sidewalk for a moment, watching him go, then turned and headed back inside, back to where the others were waiting for him with hungry bellies and questioning gazes. When they noticed Ryunosuke had returned to the table alone, their curiosity was quickly replaced with disappointment.

“It wasn’t meant to be, it seems,” Sherlock commented blithely. “What a shame; I’d been hoping to continue our conversation on Japanese martial arts. I would’ve loved to hear his opinion on my boxing technique.”

“Oh, I wish he’d stayed,” Iris sighed, slumping in her seat. “I even made all of his favorites! Surely, that should’ve been enough.”

“Unfortunately, Kazuma-sama is a very busy man,” Susato said, patting Iris’s hand in sympathy. “Well, there’s no point in dwelling on it at the moment. I’m sure he’ll stay for dinner someday, just not today. Shall we eat?”

As much as Ryunosuke loved Iris’s cooking, this time, it was hard for him to enjoy even a single bite. Over the last several weeks, Kazuma had inexplicably been coming by Baker Street more and more often despite having spent the last several months politely but firmly rejecting Ryunosuke and Susato’s invitations. Usually, he only stopped by if someone was sick and he wanted to pass on his well wishes, or if they’d had a particularly difficult case together and he wanted to decompress. Both of them had resigned themselves to Kazuma’s apparent desire to keep them at arm’s length, only to be surprised when he showed up one day for afternoon tea. It had become something of a regular appointment ever since. Still, none of them had been able to convince him to stay long enough for dinner.

“Naruhodo-san?”

Ryunosuke startled; he barely remembered finishing dinner and returning to his desk in the attic, only to shuffle mindlessly through his paperwork without reading any of it. “Ah - sorry, Susato-san, were you saying something just now?”

“No, I’ve only just come back up,” Susato replied, looking at him curiously. “You seem...distracted. Is it because of Kazuma-sama?”

“I just...don’t understand what’s going on with him,” Ryunosuke admitted, rubbing his aching temples. “I can’t help but worry he’s caught up in something again. He spent months keeping his distance, and now, he comes round twice a week, only to leave after an hour or two of conversation. It’s...it’s strange, is what it is.” He then sat up, his eyes wide. “Do you think he’s spying on us for someone?”

Susato tilted her head, looking at him worryingly. “...oh dear, I hope not. And I don’t think all of Kazuma-sama’s secrets are wrapped up in conspiracy, Naruhodo-san. As I said, he’s a busy man, so we should be grateful that we get to see him as often as we do. And I’m glad that he’s been so happy and healthy these days.”

“Yes, of course,” Ryunosuke agreed. Kazuma was definitely smiling more, talking more, laughing more, and that was never a bad thing. It didn’t stop him from worrying, though. “I hope he’ll stay for dinner eventually, especially for Iris’s sake. She went to all that trouble tonight, after all.”

“Perhaps we’ll have to guilt him into it,” Susato said with a mischievous giggle. “If Iris were to cry and bat her eyelashes at him, he’s sure to come around!”

“...I’d like to try less underhanded tactics first, Susato-san,” Ryunosuke replied, sighing.

_____

Of course, that wasn’t to say Ryunosuke had any tactics in mind to begin with, short of cornering Kazuma and asking him outright. Every single time, without fail, Kazuma had somewhere to be or someone to see, even when he knew he was coming to Baker Street well in advance. Every single time, Ryunosuke went to see him off while asking him to stay, and every single time, Kazuma seemed to be avoiding his eyes while telling him he had to leave. Then, days later, the same thing would happen all over again.

They’d tried a few different things in the beginning, naturally. Sherlock had offered to spar with Kazuma, and when that hadn’t worked, offered to discuss literature and politics with him instead. Iris had bribed him with tea, then sweets, then science; unsurprisingly, Kazuma only had a polite interest in hearing about Iris’s smoke bombs. Ryunosuke and Susato tried to persuade him with the promise of stories from their brief return to Japan, what with Ryunosuke finishing his formal law education and Susato taking a few turns in the Supreme Court as the elusive Ryutaro. Frustratingly, even that failed to work, and everyone was at a loss as to why.

“Your head appears to be in the clouds today, Ryunosuke. What’s on your mind?”

“I - oh!” Ryunosuke coughed, blushing. “Sorry, Kazuma, I seem to be drifting off quite a bit these days. What did you say?”

Chuckling, Kazuma moved in closer, the side of his hip pressing into Ryunosuke’s. He lifted a hand to affectionately rap his knuckles against Ryunosuke’s forehead. “I said you seem distracted. Is something bothering you?”

Ryunosuke cast a worried glance around the courthouse library, hoping no one could see the strangely intimate stance they were suddenly in, then turned back to meet Kazuma’s intense, albeit slightly concerned gaze; he swallowed. “Are you free this evening, for dinner?”

Kazuma’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Dinner?”

“At Baker Street, with the others,” Ryunosuke clarified. “I think Iris is making beef stew and freshly baked bread, so…”

“Ah.” Kazuma cleared his throat, taking a few measured steps back before turning back to the bookshelf he’d been perusing. “No, I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it.” When Ryunosuke motioned for him to continue, he frowned. “What?”

“I was waiting to hear what excuse you had to offer this time,” Ryunosuke replied, his tone harsher than he’d intended; Kazuma looked just as taken aback as Ryunosuke felt.

“Excuse? You think I’ve been making excuses?” Kauma said coldly, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t know you thought so little of me, Ryunosuke. Do you really believe that I’m making things up just to get out of joining you for dinner?”

“I’m not sure what to believe,” Ryunosuke said, more resignedly now. “You’ve been coming over so often these days, but you never stay longer than a couple of hours, and never for dinner. I can only assume that you’ve been told to visit us but not to stay too long, or...or, I don’t know, that you think Iris will poison your food or something.”

Kazuma scoffed, looking away so he could yank a volume off the shelf rather violently. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ryunosuke. It’s convoluted thoughts like that that keep us in court longer than we need to be.”

Ryunosuke flinched, hurt. “There’s no need to be so short with me. All I wanted to know is why my best friend has been so distant, but...if you continue to act like this, I’m not sure I care to find out.”

Now it was Kazuma’s turn to appear wounded; he let out a lengthy sigh. “I...I’m sorry, that was unnecessary of me. And…” He inhaled sharply. “You’re right, I have nowhere to be. But I won’t be coming all the same.”

“But why?” Ryunosuke whisper-shouted, frustrated, mindful of the other library patrons who were watching them curiously from a few shelves away. “I understand not wanting to accept every single invitation, and I understand that you’re busy, but you haven’t even stayed once, so...I can only assume that something must be wrong.”

Kazuma visibly swallowed, tucking his books underneath one arm, folding the other defensively across his stomach. “Have a good day, Ryunosuke.” And with that, he swept past Ryunosuke rather hurriedly, disappearing out of sight before Ryunosuke could even fathom what had happened. Groaning, he slumped against the shelf he’d been standing beside; his head was starting to hurt again. He barely even looked up at the sound of Susato’s footsteps.

“I’m afraid they didn’t have the records we were looking for, Naru - Naruhodo-san? Are you alright?” She placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I thought you were with Kazuma-sama.”

“I was, but...I really don’t know what’s happening, Susato-san,” Ryunosuke sighed. “I asked him if he’d be able to join us for dinner, and this time, he didn’t even give me an excuse. Simply told me he had nowhere to be, but he wouldn’t be coming, anyway. I mean, what are we supposed to think at this point?”

Susato’s face fell. “Oh. I...I see.”

“Is it…” Ryunosuke hesitated. “Is it strange to miss someone, even when they’re standing right in front of you?”

“I don’t think so,” Susato murmured, offering him a sad smile. “Because I feel it, too.”

Dinner was a somber affair; the moment Ryunosuke and Susato arrived home, Sherlock and Iris could instantly tell that something was wrong. They seemed resigned, too, especially given that Kazuma hadn’t bothered interacting with them much prior to Ryunosuke and Susato’s return to London. Even Sherlock confessed he wasn’t sure where to begin when it came to deducing Kazuma’s reasons, or worse, his potential ulterior motive.

“And I was so looking forward to having another big brother around,” Iris said, chewing rather despondently on her piece of freshly baked bread. “Do you think he might be mad at us for some reason? I can’t think of anything we’ve done to offend him, but…”

“If he were upset, I don’t think he’d be visiting us at all,” Susato reassured her, though she didn’t sound very sure herself.

Finally, things seemed to come to a head one drizzly morning when Ryunosuke managed to acquit his client rather quickly, ending the trial sooner than expected. As he and Susato finished packing their things so they could join their client in the defendants’ antechamber, Kazuma approached them with a broad smile.

“Well done, Ryunosuke. That last deduction of yours was ingenious,” he said, extending a hand. “I was thinking, instead of visiting Baker Street, we could go all go out for tea sometime and - ”

“No.” Ryunosuke had said it so quickly, so immediately, that all three of them looked surprised; Susato only just managed to stop herself from gasping out loud. “No, I - I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Naruhodo-san,” Susato whispered, aghast.

Kazuma’s hand dropped unceremoniously to his side. His mouth was set in a hard line, his jaw taut. “Ryunosuke…”

“I really don’t know what’s going on with you, Kazuma, and...and maybe I’m simply overthinking it, but…” Ryunosuke shook his head, fists clenched. “It just feels as if you don’t care about us anymore. That you only come round for tea to keep up appearances, and not because you actually want to spend time with us. It even seems as if...as if you can’t wait to get away when the time comes.”

“That’s not true, I - ” Kazuma’s lip curled, but even he couldn’t seem to find the words to speak. “I want to, but I...I can’t.”

“Are you in trouble, Kazuma-sama?” Susato said urgently, stepping forward. “If there’s something we can do to help, anything at all…”

Kazuma turned abruptly, his head bowed, shoulders trembling. For a moment, Ryunosuke wondered, panicked, if he was about to cry. Yet, when he turned back to look at them, his eyes were sharp, determined. “...fine. Let’s have dinner, then. Is tonight too soon?”

Ryunosuke and Susato exchanged confused glances. “I’m...sure Iris would be happy to cook for you,” Susato said slowly, uncertainly. “Do you really mean it, Kazuma-sama? You’ll be having dinner with us tonight, just like that?”

“Just like that. I’ll be there, I swear,” Kazuma promised. As much as Ryunosuke didn’t want to believe him, something about the look on Kazuma’s face told him that he could trust him, despite mounting evidence to the contrary. Swallowing thickly, Ryunosuke held out his hand. Kazuma instantly accepted, giving it a firm shake. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Ryunosuke echoed numbly.

_____

Hours later, Ryunosuke still felt uncertain as he was getting dressed for dinner. He’d believed Kazuma at the time, but now, he expected to see nothing but yet another empty place setting at the table. And, of course, Ryunosuke couldn’t forget the haunted look in Kazuma’s eyes when he’d accused him of not caring about them - did I go too far? Ryunosuke wondered, chewing his bottom lip worriedly. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, I shouldn’t have pushed it -

“Naruhodo-san!” He startled at the sound of Susato’s voice, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. “Naruhodo-san, Kazuma-sama is here!”

“Wait, really?” Ryunosuke stepped out of his bedroom and promptly almost fell over - again - at the sight of Kazuma, standing at the bottom of the attic stairs, wearing a casual outfit and a radiant smile that actually seemed to reach his eyes. For a moment, Ryunosuke felt his heart stop. “Kazuma, you - you really are here!”

“And I’ve brought a gift for everyone,” Kazuma added, motioning towards the box tucked underneath his arm. He looked cheerful, amicable, nothing like the cornered, wounded animal he’d appeared to be just hours ago. “Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid, but I hope it will please everyone all the same.”

“I’m sure it will,” Susato said, beaming. “Shall we head to Mr Holmes’s suite, then?”

“We shall,” Kazuma agreed, holding out his hand for her to take. When she accepted with a giggle and an exaggerated bow, Kazuma then turned to extend his other hand to Ryunosuke with a wink for good measure. “Ready?”

“I…” Ryunosuke’s cheeks warmed; he quickly made his way down the stairs and pushed past them, nearly knocking his shoulder into Kazuma’s. “I-I should see if Iris needs help setting the table.”

By the time everyone was seated, Ryunosuke’s stomach was tossing and turning like nothing else. It wasn’t unusual, he supposed, for Kazuma to act like this; he remembered getting a little too drunk with him in their university days, only to find Kazuma’s face a little too close to his, looking him up and down in a way that made Ryunosuke wonder. It had only ever been wondering, though, with nothing ever coming to fruition. Now, despite his current frustration with Kazuma’s erratic behavior, Ryunosuke still thought about it every now and then, about his meaningful glances and his sly, almost suggestive remarks.

“So how’ve you been, Kazzy?” Iris chirruped brightly. “The last time you were here, you were telling us about some of the work you were doing with Susie’s daddy.”

“Yes, Professor Mikotoba invited me to spend some time with him in his new laboratory so I can familiarize myself with the latest in forensics,” Kazuma replied, smiling gratefully when she handed him a generously-filled bowl of soup. “I’m assuming he’s done the same for you, Mr Holmes?”

“Indubitably,” Sherlock said, nodding. “It’s also given me the opportunity to see the wonderful Miss Haori at work as well.” He then turned in his seat, beaming in Susato’s direction. “Of course, I already knew she was perfectly lovely, Miss Susato, but now I’ve seen first-hand just how whip-smart and delightfully curious she is. I can see why you’re so taken with her.”

“O-oh,” Susato managed to say, blushing. “I’m sure she’d be pleased to hear you say that, Mr Holmes.”

“Already knew?” Kazuma echoed, looking at Sherlock curiously. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with her.”

“Oh, Haori stops by for tea and a chat all the time!” Iris said, beaming. “She’s always curious about the different concoctions and inventions Holmesie and I have been working on, you see. She even brings some incredible ideas of her own!...none that have worked out, mind you, but I’m sure that someday, we’ll create the perfect invention together.”

“I...I see.” Kazuma cleared his throat, taking his first spoonful of soup.

Sherlock and Iris exchanged dubious looks across the table; Ryunosuke could only hope that Kazuma wouldn’t notice. “Well, what else have you been up to?” Iris asked as she began to eat as well. “Surely you’re not spending all your time working, Kazzy. Do you have any hobbies? Ooh, or a secret lover, perhaps?”

“Iris,” Sherlock said, frowning somewhat, but she didn’t seem to be deterred at all.

“Susie and Haori are so sweet together,” Iris continued, idly stirring her soup with a dreamy sigh. “And we’ve even had a few of Holmesie’s clients take interest in Ryu, can you believe it? Just the other day, there was this young woman who stopped in, worried about her brother’s dubious business dealings. Ryu happened to be home, so he offered to keep her company while she waited for Holmesie to return. She was so charmed, I think there were literal stars in her eyes - ”

“Iris,” Sherlock repeated, firmer this time. Ryunosuke wasn’t sure his face could get any hotter; he didn’t dare look up to see how Kazuma had reacted. “Now might not be the time for that sort of talk. After all, Mr Naruhodo made it clear that he wasn’t interested in her.”

“He did?” Kazuma’s voice was strangely affected, almost hollow.

“I think I remember her,” Susato said with a rueful smile. “She was quite forward, asking Mr Naruhodo if he’d like to have dinner sometime. Once he understood what she meant, he told her he was flattered, but that he already had someone.”

“A gentleman’s rejection, if I do say so myself,” Sherlock added unhelpfully. “Seeing as Mr Naruhodo has precisely no one.”

“...a kind reminder, Mr Holmes,” Ryunosuke said, sighing. It was only then that he noticed the severe pull of Kazuma’s mouth, almost as if he were clenching his teeth to stop himself from speaking. “Anyway, er, Kazuma, didn’t you want to tell Mr Holmes and Iris about that odd contraption you saw when you accompanied Lord van Zieks to that crime scene in the countryside?”

Kazuma’s expression quickly shifted into a friendlier one, though he still seemed more guarded than ever. “Yes, thank you for reminding me. I wish I’d had a camera on me, it was the strangest thing…”

An hour or so later, after their somewhat awkward dinner had ended, Sherlock elected to put on a record rather than provide the musical entertainment himself, a lilting sort of waltz that had everyone swaying in their seats while they sipped their tea and continued to chat. Susato was in the middle of recounting the plot of the latest novel she’d been reading when Sherlock suddenly pulled Iris to her feet, humming along all the while.

“Quickly, Iris! Here, stand on my feet,” he instructed, grinning brightly.

“Are you sure?” Iris asked doubtfully. “Won’t that hurt?”

“Not at all, not at all,” Sherlock insisted. “You mustn't dawdle, either, for the best part is about to begin!”

Ryunosuke and Susato couldn’t help but burst into raucous laughter, watching Sherlock clumsily guide Iris around the room as the music began to pick up in speed, the heels of Iris’s shoes constantly slipping from the toes of Sherlock’s, her fingers clutching at the back of Sherlock’s waistcoat as she held on for dear life.

“I already know how to dance, Holmesie!” Iris exclaimed through her own fit of giggles. “You hardly need to teach me.”

“Ah, but isn’t it so much more enjoyable this way?” Sherlock beamed. “Naturally, this doesn’t work with everyone - imagine me doing this with Mikotoba, for instance - ”

“And you know perfectly well that Father already knows how to dance,” Susato interjected, still laughing.

“ - but you, Iris, are the perfect size!” Sherlock declared, scooping her into his arms. Iris squealed at the sensation of suddenly being lifted up in the air, giggling hysterically as he spun her around. Ryunosuke and Susato continued to clap and cheer them on, applauding happily as the song came to an end. Sherlock finally set Iris back down onto her own two feet, looking understandably winded. He let out a quiet groan, bringing one hand to cup the small of his back. “We’ll have to do that again sometime, my dear girl. Not immediately, you understand.”

“Oh, perfectly,” Iris replied, glowing. She then collapsed onto the settee, situating herself right between Ryunosuke and Susato, her head dropping to rest on Ryunosuke’s shoulder. “And we must invite Ginny round for it, too. I bet she’d love to join in!”

“And now I simply must see you and Father dance together as well, Mr Holmes,” Susato added, chuckling. “I’m sure the two of you would look positively enchanting!”

Ryunosuke then turned to look in the direction of the armchair. “What about you, Kaz - Kazuma?” But Kazuma wasn’t there; the only indication that he’d been sitting there at all was the saucer on the table beside it. Frowning, Ryunosuke shot to his feet and headed straight to the entryway, ignoring Susato’s startled cry. “Kazuma, are you seriously going to - ” But Kazuma’s boots were still neatly lined up beside his own, his coat still hanging from the coat rack, leaving Ryunosuke to turn and head straight into the kitchen. There, he found Kazuma hunched over the sink, hands gripping the counter a little too tightly. “...Kazuma, are you alright?”

“...I just needed some air, sorry.” Kazuma made a point of not turning around. “My head, it...it still hurts sometimes, and the music was a little too loud. But please, don’t let me spoil your fun.”

“It’s hardly fun when you’re not around,” Ryunosuke said, sidling up beside him. Up close, he could see sweat beginning to form on Kazuma’s brow, his bottom lip clenched between his teeth. “I’m sorry to hear about your head, though; shall I ask Mr Holmes to turn the music off? Do you need water, or - or maybe you should lie down.”

“No, it’s...I’m fine.” Kazuma straightened up, smoothing out the front of his shirt and letting out a labored breath that seemed to rattle from within his chest, though he still refused to look in Ryunosuke’s direction. “I must say, it seems I’ve been learning quite a lot tonight, more than I ever expected to.”

Ryunosuke frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I knew of Professor Mikotoba’s frequent visits to Baker Street, of course, but I didn’t realize Haori-san and Inspector Lestrade came by so often,” Kazuma remarked with a dry laugh. “And to hear that some of Mr Holmes’s clients had a keen romantic interest in you...who would’ve guessed?”

“Hey,” Ryunosuke protested softly, chuckling. “I’ve been told I can be quite charming when I want to be.”

“That sounds like the sort of thing a doting parent would say,” Kazuma teased, finally lifting his head to look at Ryunosuke with a warm, inviting smile. What exactly he was inviting him to do, Ryunosuke couldn’t be sure. “Hardly the words of a potential lover.”

“Well, uh…” Ryunosuke’s gaze softened; he moved closer. “...what would a potential lover say?”

“Passionate, perhaps,” Kazuma mused, taking another sharp inhale, though his breathing didn’t sound quite so painful anymore. “Clever, kind-hearted, loyal…” He then smirked. “Gullible, a little cowardly, overly agreeable - ”

“My apologies for being too agreeable - what a terrible character flaw I’ve got there,” Ryunosuke shot back, elbowing him. Kazuma’s sweet, raspy laughter finally rang out for the first time that evening, like music to Ryunosuke’s ears. Still, a sobering thought quickly cut through the sound. “Speaking of agreeable...Kazuma, why did you finally agree to come to dinner tonight, of all nights?”

Kazuma went quiet again. “...I’d like to hear your thoughts first, actually.”

“I…” Ryunosuke swallowed, silently wishing he hadn’t said anything. Now all he wanted to do was go back to mere seconds before, just so he could hear Kazuma laugh again. “I don’t want to think the worst of you, Kazuma, I really don’t. But I can’t help but feel you only accepted our invitation to prove a point. To prove us wrong.”

Kazuma shook his head, smiling bitterly. “I had a feeling you’d think that. It sounds like something I’d do, doesn’t it? But no, that’s not quite it. It’s more like you...like you helped me see reason, in that I finally saw how I was being entirely unreasonable.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Ryunosuke admitted. “If anything, I felt like I was being unreasonable by accusing you of not caring about us. Without evidence, no less!”

“This isn’t the courtroom, Ryunosuke,” Kazuma replied with a faint laugh. “But if you’d like, I can testify. I’ll even be generous and let you cross-examine me.” Ryunosuke wordlessly motioned for him to continue, unamused. “Yes, er...I really do apologize for making you and Susato-san worry about me, for making you doubt my friendship. I swear, I’m not in any sort of trouble. I’ve simply been...evasive of my own accord, not to mention selfish.”

“You’re not selfish, Kazuma,” Ryunosuke insisted, frowning. “Self-important at times, yes. But we know you mean well.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Kazuma said hoarsely, slowly lowering himself down onto the kitchen floor with a lofty sigh. “I’ve been terribly selfish, in fact.”

Ryunosuke went to sit beside him, concerned. “How so?”

Kazuma seemed to be staring straight ahead at nothing, evidently lost in thought. When he finally spoke again, he sounded angry, Ryunosuke suspected, at himself. “I was ecstatic when I heard you and Susato-san were coming back to Great Britain,” he began. “I’d spent what felt like a lifetime here alone, talking to almost no one, trusting almost no one. So, I…I started imagining all the things we’d get to do, the memories we’d get to share.”

“Of course,” Ryunosuke agreed. “That’s all we’d been dreaming about since we departed from Japan, too.”

“So…when you returned, I just assumed it would be like old times,” Kazuma continued, smiling ruefully. “Instead, it seemed as if the two of you had made friends with all of London. Between dinners, parties, society events...I never knew you were such a social creature, Ryunosuke. And of course, you have something of a family now, here at Baker Street.”

“Yes, I do. Iris thinks of Susato-san and I as her older siblings,” Ryunosuke replied, nodding. “But...Kazuma, I still don’t understand. No doubt we’ve been busy, yes, but we’ve made plenty of time for you as well. Have you been feeling ignored?”

Kazuma ducked his head. “No, nothing like - you know what? This isn’t...I’m not seeking out your pity, alright? I’m not asking for you to feel sorry for me. I should have never brought it up, so why don’t you rejoin the others before they - ”

“No, I want to hear this,” Ryunosuke insisted, clasping his hand over Kazuma’s knee. Kazuma shuddered, but he didn’t move away. “I want to hear what you have to say. It’s obviously been bothering you for ages, so - please, tell me. Tell me everything.”

“...I wasn’t feeling ignored, exactly.” Kazuma lifted his gaze once more, his eyes suspiciously glossy. “It was more like...I felt as if there was no longer enough room in your life for me. And that you were the one keeping up appearances, being the kind of friend that you are, but...I started to believe you saw me as someone from your past, not someone you wanted in your future. Especially after...well, everything that transpired.”

“I made you feel as if I didn’t care about you?” Ryunosuke asked, his voice small.

“That’s where the selfishness comes in, actually,” Kazuma muttered. “I was too caught up in what I wanted, what I felt like I deserved, that I made everything carry more weight than it actually did. That I made your happiness about me. But…” His smile then softened, bittersweet. “...people have always been inexplicably drawn to you, Ryunosuke. When I first saw you on that stage, giving your speech, I assumed you didn’t have the presence to do it - ”

“...thanks,” Ryunosuke grumbled.

“ - but then I truly saw just how magnetic you really were,” Kazuma continued with a fond chuckle. “So, to bring this back to here and now, I...I wanted to keep seeing you, spending time with you - and with Susato-san, of course - but I didn’t want to stay around long enough to remind myself of how I no longer play a significant role in your life.” He let out a choked sob, dropping his head into his hands. “God, it sounds even more selfish when I say it out loud. I’m sorry, Ryunosuke. Once again, I...I let my feelings cloud my judgment. A terrible habit of mine that seems impossible to break.”

“Kazuma,” Ryunosuke breathed, stunned. “I...I had no idea.” He then moved even closer, reaching over to gently brush Kazuma’s hair out of his eyes. “Kazuma...look at me, please.”

But Kazuma merely got to his feet, knocking Ryunosuke’s hand away from his face. “I really should go before I spoil your night any more than I already have,” he said sharply, suddenly. “Please, give the others my regards.”

“You are not leaving before we finish this conversation,” Ryunosuke insisted, grabbing Kazuma by the wrist before he could disappear into the night. “Not this time.” Kazuma yanked his arm out of Ryunosuke’s grasp, his posture stiff and unyielding, but he didn’t seem poised to run off otherwise. “Kazuma, I - I’m so sorry that I ever made you doubt how much you mean to me. Believe me, I would not be the person I am today without you.”

“Ryunosuke, I really don’t want to make this about me - ”

“You’re my family, too, Kazuma.” Kazuma’s eyes widened. “And I want you here, always. We all do.”

Kazuma slowly turned on his heel, his hands dropping to his sides, the fight seemingly leaving his body all at once. “Ryu…”

“Yes, I - I won’t deny the importance of the friends I’ve made in London,” Ryunosuke continued, his voice trembling as he spoke. “And of course, I’ve got friends in Japan, old and new. But...surely you know that you’ve always meant the world to me, that you’ve always been more than just a friend, a-and you always will be. No matter who, what, or where we are, that will never change.”

Time seemed to stop for a moment, a moment that stretched out into what felt like minutes, hours, even, as Ryunosuke and Kazuma just stood there, staring at each other, waiting for someone to make a move. Then, Kazuma stepped forward, sweeping Ryunosuke in for a hug.

“You might not be the most articulate speaker in the world, but you’ve always had a way with words,” he murmured, burying his face into Ryunosuke’s shoulder. This time, he sounded halfway between a euphoric laugh and a relieved sob. “Thank you, Ryunosuke. You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that.”

“Then perhaps I should say it more often,” Ryunosuke teased, bringing Kazuma in even closer, his fingers curled into Kazuma’s shirt, refusing to let him go. He was warm, solid, comforting in a way that Ryunosuke had never quite realized until now. “For both our sakes.”

“I’d like that,” Kazuma mumbled; for a split second, it felt as if he’d pressed a kiss to Ryunosuke’s cheek, but he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. “Anyway, we really should go and rejoin the others. It’s a wonder Susato-san hasn’t burst in here already, demanding answers.”

“I suspect she knows more than she let on...as she does,” Ryunosuke added, reluctantly pulling away. “Oh, and I’ve just remembered - would now be a good time to open that gift you brought?”

“Is that what you’re really after?” Kazuma asked, smirking. “But yes, I think so. Once I’ve apologized to the others for my coldness, that is.”

Mere minutes later, Kazuma found himself tackled to the ground by Susato and Iris, who were both crying tears of joy, clinging on to Kazuma like their lives depended on it. Ryunosuke and Sherlock stood back, watching on with bemused smiles as Susato then proceeded to scold him for being so distant, while Iris bounced up and down on her heels, begging him to sleep over so she’d have more time to read him her latest manuscript.

“Ryu always says you have a flair for the dramatic, after all,” Iris said, grinning cheekily. “So I’d like your opinion on whether this one particular passage gets your heart racing!”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay the night,” Kazuma said apologetically, taking a seat on the settee this time; his eyes widened slightly in surprise when Iris plopped right down beside him. “I’ve got an early morning meeting, unfortunately. If I were to sleep over, I think any Friday would be a safe bet.”

“This Friday, then?” Iris suggested. “You could set up in Ryu’s bedroom! I’m sure he’d like that.”

Kazuma raised an eyebrow in Ryunosuke’s direction. “...would he, now?”

“Hey, I - d-don’t - Iris!” Ryunosuke spluttered, his cheeks reddening. “Kazuma, your gift? Now?”

“So demanding,” Kazuma replied, clicking his tongue in disapproval. Still, he went to retrieve the box he’d left in the entryway, then knelt on the floor by the fireplace so he could open it. Iris immediately went to peek, while Sherlock only just managed to hold himself back, mostly because Susato had grabbed him by the arm before he could snatch the box out of Kazuma’s arms. Ryunosuke, on the other hand, went to kneel beside Kazuma, his heart racing with sudden anticipation. “Admittedly, I don’t really have an eye for art, but I was working on a crime scene diorama a month or two ago when I was struck by the idea. So…”

Small gasps filled the room as Kazuma carefully lifted out a mid-sized shadow box frame filled with the most beautiful papercraft any of them had ever seen, depicting 221B Baker Street and its occupants in a domestic scene - Sherlock playing his beloved Stradivarius, Iris pouring a cup of tea, Susato reading in the armchair, and Ryunosuke eating sweets by the fireplace, Wagahai nestled in his lap.

“Kazuma-sama,” Susato whispered, speechless, her eyes shining with tears.

“No eye for art, you say? My dear fellow, this is absolutely beautiful!” Sherlock declared, beaming.

“Oh, I’m not the one who made it,” Kazuma said, shaking his head. “No, I used my connections to find and commission one of the best artisans in the country, and this was the result. I thought it would make for a nice piece for you to hang somewhere - anywhere, really. Do you...do you like it?”

Ryunosuke made a quiet, incoherent noise, having clapped his hand over his mouth to keep himself from crying, too. “Kazuma, it’s...it’s incredible! I only wish we’d spoken earlier so you would’ve thought to include yourself, too.”

Kazuma’s gaze softened; he looked pleased, yet embarrassed. “Yes, well...I don’t live here, so it wouldn’t have been appropriate, anyway.”

“Well, then maybe you should!” Iris piped up. “After all, you’re Susie’s brother and Ryu’s partner, not to mention my newest big brother. Why wouldn’t you live here?” Kazuma opened his mouth, then closed it again, suddenly also at a loss for words. Ryunosuke couldn’t help but silently note that the tips of his ears had gone red.

“I think you might be moving a little fast for the poor man, Iris,” Sherlock said, chuckling good-naturedly. “Let’s start by having him stay the night sometime in the near future first, shall we?”

Susato hastily dried her tears, then straightened up, smoothing out the front of her kimono. “Kazuma-sama, if I may, I’d like for us to find a place to put this up right now before you go. Shall we keep it somewhere in your suite, Mr Holmes, or would you rather we bring it up to the attic?”

“The entryway, Miss Susato, the entryway!” Sherlock was already off before any of the others could blink, in search of a hammer and nails; Iris quickly followed him to ensure he wouldn’t hurt himself in the process. Ryunosuke, Kazuma, and Susato stood stock-still in the middle of the living room, staring after them in disbelief. Then, the three of them couldn’t help but burst into laughter in perfect harmony.

_____

It was pitch black by the time Kazuma readied himself to leave, buckling up his boots and slipping on his coat. He frowned somewhat when he realized he’d already pulled his gloves on, yet had forgotten to button his coat. Before he could remove them, someone else’s hands were on his front, dutifully buttoning him up on his behalf.

“Ryunosuke,” he said, surprised.

“I’m really glad you made it tonight,” Ryunosuke said, doing up the last of Kazuma’s buttons. He then took a step back, offering Kazuma a boyish smile. “As I said, I just wish we’d had that conversation earlier, but...I suppose the most important thing is that we had it in the first place.”

“How surprisingly mature of you,” Kazuma teased, smirking when Ryunosuke’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“We’re back to this again, are we?” Ryunosuke sighed, elbowing him a little harder than necessary. “You never could resist poking fun on my behalf. I’d bet you some of our old classmates are still debating whether you actually liked me or not.”

“It's hardly my fault that no one reacts quite the same way that you do,” Kazuma grinned. Then, he squeezed Ryunosuke’s arm. “Really, though, thank you for hearing me out earlier. I’m not even sure I explained myself properly - honestly, I felt like a complete mess - but you seemed to understand me all the same.”

“I know a thing or two about...what was it? ‘Not being the most articulate speaker in the world’?” Ryunosuke mused, laughing when Kazuma scowled. “Your words, Kazuma, not mine.”

“Yes, well…” Kazuma ducked his head for a moment so he could readjust his gloves. “...Ryunosuke. Earlier, when you said that I’ve always been more than a friend...what did you mean, exactly?”

Ryunosuke’s breath hitched. “Oh, um...well, I-I’d just told you that you were part of my family, too. That you always have a place here, with me, Susato-san, Mr Holmes, and Iris.”

Kazuma nodded, making a noncommittal noise under his breath. “Right, of course. Anyway, I’ll be seeing you on - ” And suddenly, Ryunosuke’s lips were on his, just like that. He barely had enough time to blink before Ryunosuke pulled back, blushing furiously. “...Ryu?”

“Sorry, sorry, that wasn’t - I-I shouldn’t have done that,” Ryunosuke stammered, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “You were just about to leave, and - ”

“And if you meant it, you would do it again so I can actually kiss you back,” Kazuma said firmly. It seemed to take Ryunosuke a moment to process, then, he grabbed Kazuma by the coat lapels and pulled him back in for another kiss. Ryunosuke felt Kazuma smirk against his lips, wrapping his arms around Ryunosuke’s waist so he could hold him even closer, the two of them relishing one another’s warmth. “...better. Marginally better.”

“So mean,” Ryunosuke mumbled, sighing as he unceremoniously detached himself from Kazuma’s embrace, though any ill will he felt towards Kazuma and his acerbic nature was quickly quashed when he saw the way Kazuma looked at him - like he finally believed in every word that Ryunosuke had said. “Friday, then?”

“I was going to suggest we meet up for breakfast tomorrow, after my meeting,” Kazuma suggested. “We’ve got more catching up to do, after all. And I was hoping you could get me up to speed on Mr Holmes’ latest exploits before he or Iris starts questioning me the next time I come by.”

Grinning, Ryunosuke gave Kazuma one last kiss before finally letting him go. “...it’s a date.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my third entry for Asoryuu Week 2021! I'm mad at myself for writing this entire Baker Street family fic and somehow completely forgetting to include Wagahai until the very end, especially considering how I include Mikeko in literally every Klapollo fic I possibly can. Anyway, I promise this is the last of my sad Kazuma hours for this week; I know this fic and day one's fic are similar in concept, but the rest of my entries (if I manage to finish them, that is) are established relationship and one modern AU, if that's something you're into!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#asoryuu #asoryuu week 2021 #ace attorney #asoryuu fic #dai gyakuten saiban #the great ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #dgs spoilers #tgaa spoilers #tgaac spoilers #myfic #long post #last of my sad kazuma hours fics for the week i promise #the rest of my fics are established relationship plus one modern AU

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