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crazyfreckledginger · 3 years

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Jason Todd x Reader - “In The Pale Moonlight”

After a one night stand, Jason doesn’t seem to be able to get his mind off you. Desperate to get you out of his head, he hesitantly agrees to go to Wayne Enterprise with his brothers for work, as a response to scrutiny from the general public. What happens when the person he was trying to erase from his memory pops right back into his life?

Requested by anon and on Wattpad: “Can I request one where reader and one of the boys are dating but they act like they still trying to get each other so they flirt a lot and stuff even if everyone knows they’re together”/

“And other one where the reader is feeling herself and singing “Meet me in the pale moonlight” by Lana Del Rey in front of one of batboys and they’re like wow she cute and kiss the readeeeeeer (they’re dating and they’re teenagers)THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU 💕” /

“haha well I have another which was that the reader is harley and Bruce's kid and she meets batboys but jason since she knew before she left for the first time since she was away for wayne industries business meetings”

A/N: I hope you guys don’t mind that I tweaked it a little since these requests don’t have alot of depth individually!

“I’m just here for a drink.” the girl smiled politely even though she was extremely uncomfortable.

“I am too, can I have it with you?”

“Oh for crying out loud leave her alone, don’t be such a creep.” The man at the end of the counter groaned.

“Mind your business.” the creep gritted his teeth.

“Your disgusting aura is polluting my drink so it makes it my business.” (Y/N) watched as he stood up and walked towards the pair. Now that he was closer, the woman could see how attractive he was up close, stunning eyes, sharp jaw, tall and a streak of dyed white hair, “Fuck off will you?”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Sorry, I forgot a world, fuck off please.” The stranger shot the man a terrifying glare and without another word, the man studded away, like a dog with its tail between his legs.

“Thank you mister, but if he laid a hand on me I would have sucker punched him.”

“Mister huh?” he smirked, sitting beside her.

“Well what’s your name then?”

“Jason, pleasure to meet you.”

****

“This is your place?” she hummed, fingers running through his soft hair as his lips trailed down her neck, pulling her legs around his hips.

“Mmh hmm,”

“You rich or something?” the woman breathed out as he sucked on her skin.

“Something like that,” he murmured, pulling away to tease her lips with his. Jason stared deeply into her eyes.

“What are you waiting for, lover boy? You brought me here.” (Y/N)’s arms hung loosely on his shoulders, occasionally touching the back of his head.

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, hooking his hands under her legs and carrying her to his bedroom.

****

Glancing at her side to the soft breathing of the naked man beside her, she shuffled, stretching and yawning. What a night, she tried moving her legs but winced, what a night indeed.

“Good morning princess,” his morning voice was incredibly attractive as his arm slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

“Mmh, good morning,” the woman squirmed in his grip as he nipped at her ear teasingly with his teeth, “what time is it?”

“You have someplace to be?” he murmured, hand caressing her naked hip.

“Yeah, I have work.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Self employed.”

“Nice!”

****

A month or so later, Jason was frustratedly sitting in the meeting room, chewing on his lip in boredom as Bruce brought all of them to a meeting at Wayne Enterprise for less scrutiny from the public eye.

“The person we will be working on for the new design is going to arrive soon so I need you all on your best behaviour.” He glared at all the boys.

“Yeah yeah, can we just get on with it so I can leave?” The second oldest rolled his eyes.

“Mr Wayne?” as if on queue, the person knocked on the one-way privacy film that covered every window of the room, the blurred figure waiting patiently on the other side.

With a last scolding glance to everyone, Bruce strutted over, opening the door and smiling.

“Good morning Mr Wayne.” the woman greeted with a polite smile.

Jason’s eyes widened, and stayed that way even when he made eye contact with the girl. She responded with the same reaction, but quickly regained her composure and greeted the other boys.

“Oh hey (Y/N),” Dick waved to his roommate, “you look great.” He flirted.

“...Um hey,” she greeted hesitantly, feeling a little uncomfortable with his usual ways in the professional setting.

“Shall we get down to business.” Bruce glared at his eldest son.

****

“You don’t have to act so grumpy.” Jason rolled his eyes as they finally arrived at their hotel in Europe after an excruciatingly long flight.

“I’m tired, I need sleep.” Not wanting to address the elephant in the room, especially when she was this exhausted, she scurried to the bathroom to slip into comfortable pyjamas and landed right into bed, “I’m having this conversation tomorrow, good night.”

The next day came quickly and (Y/N) opened her eyes reluctantly, wanting to melt in the comfortable double bed she was in. Discreetly, she peeked at the double bed facing her diagonally.

The woman frowned, it was empty.

“I’m right here.” the man voiced from behind her as he exited the bathroom.

“Jason!” she screeched, “what the hell! Don’t creep up on people!”

“Well don’t try to spy on people when they are sleeping!” he threw his damp towel to her.

“Ewwwww!” she grimaced.

“Chill, I was drying my hair with that.” he walked towards his bed, and she only now noticed that he was naked -- with a towel around his waist obviously. Steam was emitting from his skin as it glistened still.

With warm ears, she pulled the covers over her face, eyes peeking out discreetly.

“We’ve seen each other completely naked, I don’t see what the problem is, if you’re going to look, be shameless,” he moved his butt from left to right teasingly, “you can see this regularly if you want,” he chuckled.

With a sigh, she buried herself under the covers.

“I haven’t changed my mind Jason, I’m sorry, I’m not interested in commitment at the moment.”

She felt a weight on the bed and hesitantly took a peep out. Jason was laying on her bed, shirtless but with some underwear on.

“At least give me the benefit of the doubt for this trip.” he gave her the puppy eyes. Eying him suspiciously, she sighed.

“Alright, fine, don’t disappoint.”

****

A few months or so later into the relationship with Jason and gotten closer to his younger brothers, (Y/N) slipped on a comfortable T-shirt, watching herself in the mirror as she tidied her hair a bit and examined the hickey on her neck.

Swaying lightly from side to side to the song that was stuck in her head, she hummed softly to herself, setting out her clothes for the day.

“You don't have to give me anything

Just put your sweet kiss kiss on my lips now baby”

Walking back to the mirror, deciding on whether or not jewelry was necessary, the woman continued.

“Think about you almost all the time, all the time and-”

“I love you so much baby,” he breathed out from the other side of the room.

“Hmm?” she glanced in the mirror.

“Keep singing~”

“No,” she stuck her tongue out playfully, “are you ready?”

“Do we have to go?” Jason whined, marching up to her, slapping her ass and squeezing it before hugging her from behind, nuzzling her hair, his warm skin against her.

“Baby of course we do, we have to hide the fact that we’re together, plus they are fun, we’re all friends here.” she rubbed her butt against his hips and he bit her ear.

“No teasing,” he whispered in her ear, turning her around and pushing her against the dresser, “or else.”

“Or else?” the woman chuckled, “but seriously though,” her hands cupped his cheeks as he stared at her lips, “we can’t act like a couple, it’s unprofessional,”

“Technically I don’t work at the company,”

“And the person I’m working with is your dad.”

“Adoptive, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Just a coffee, maybe a lunch, and then we can come straight home.”

“Mmh, okay,” he pouted, holding her tightly as she kissed his lips and pulled away. “You sing beautifully, please do it more for me.” he pouted. She chuckled, shaking her head slightly in embarrassment.

“Put a shirt on and let’s get ready, I don’t want to be late!” (Y/N) ushered, “and the sooner you’re out of here, the less anxious I’ll be that your brother unexpectedly enters his own home and sees you in it.”

When they were ready, at a somewhat reasonable time, they drove there as quickly and responsibly as possible.

“Why is your hand still on my thigh?!” (Y/N) jumped once she realised he had discreetly snaked his hand back on her thigh when he was parking the car on the side of the road, in a surprising proximity. Slapping his hand away and giving him a look, the woman slipped out of the car and walked up the stairs, ringing on the bell.

Jason scurried up beside her, slapping her butt playfully before pushing the door open.

“Hey guys!” she grinned, not having the time to scold her boyfriend once again as she was greeted with welcoming smiles.

“How have you been?” Dick teased, having seen her just yesterday.

After playful banter, and not-so-playful for the brothers, over a nice hot drink, a new topic came up.

“How was the party yesterday (Y/N)?” Jason inquired, knowing fully well about it but trying to seem inconspicuous, “I hope no one stole your heart, that’s for me!” … or not.

She paused, giving him an unimpressed look, reluctant to answer “It was great, and no.”

“No what?” he smirked. Her cheeks burned, she did not like being put on the spot to lie, especially since this was incredibly unnecessary.

“No one did anything.”

“To who-”

“This is embarrassing, we know you two are a couple,” Damian nearly gagged.

“Huh?” (Y/N) turned to him, feeling her soul leave her body.

“How do you know?” Jason looked at him.

“It’s been a while.” Dick chuckled.

“We been knew 💅,” Tim rolled his eyes.

“Someone left someone’s underwear in an awkwardly obvious place when I came around… and you slapped her butt before you came in here, everyone saw it.” Dick explained, watching his brother.

“OH MY GOD, JASON!”

“I didn’t- wait, how do you know that it’s her underwear???”

The eldest’s expression fell and he blushed.

“I might have um-”

“He accidentally came in when I was packing my bag to leave for the business meeting in France okay?” the woman spluttered.

“You did WHAT?”

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dcbutinamrev · 3 years

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Heyyy! I love ur writing!!!!

can u do a historical lams story where Hamilton gets freaked out by a storm and Laurens has to comfort him🥺

Thank you!! Ha! Yes! The storm chapter tm! Or, in this case, the strom shot? The storm oneshot? This one's pretty long...Anyways, ask and ya shall recieve!

***

It's late in the evening once more in the aide-de-camp office. It's perhaps around seven in the evening. The sky not so dark yet not so light either. The fireplace roars and crackles in the parlor of the house General Washington and his staff are staying, to make the room a bit warmer than before. Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton sit side by side as always, working on translating letters and writing out corrospondences for tomorrrow's morning dispatch while the other aides around them such as Richard Kidder Meade, Tench Tilghman, Robert Hanson Harrison, John Fitzgerald and General Washington's Head of Intelligence: Benjamin Tallmadge, sits at the table around them with a map in front of them, placing markers as to wear the British could be and discusses plans of attack and whatnot. General Washington himself has retreated to his office to work privately with the Marquis de Lafayette to assist him in any matter.

Hamilton would often sneak in glances at Laurens beside him when the other aides aren't paying attention, they're too caught up in their heated argument. Hamilton smirks when he sees how deep in concentration Laurens is, his quill scratching agaisnt the parchment, his soft yet rough pink lips pressed together tightly as he clenches his jaw. His honey blonde hair pulled back into the traditional braid, secured with the usual dark blue ribbon. His brows are furrowed together, eyes narrowing down at the parchement before him and an already drafted letter beside him. Hamilton sees a fallen strand of hair in front of Laurens's ear and he so desperately wants to tuck it back behind his ear where it belongs. He curls his fingers to keep himself from doing so.

Hamilton grins as he knocks his knee agaisnt Laurens underneath the table. Laurens scoffs as he pauses his work for a moment to knock his knee against Hamilton's. Hamilton smiles sheepishly and he feels his freckled cheeks starting to warm up as he quickly glances away. Laurens notices this and smirks with triumph as he returns his focus to the letter before him.

"Major Tallmadge, mon ami?" says a very familiar French accented voice from nearby.

Hamilton and Laurens, along with Tallmadge and the rest of the aides look up sharply to see the Marquis de Lafayette standing at the end of the hallway with a kind smile on his face.

Major Tallmadge raises his eyebrow and walks around the table towards Lafayette. Hamilton keeps his eye on him. Tallmadge looks so similiar to Laurens with what his height, his blonde hair--though his blonde is more of a dirty blonde than honey--sky-blue eyes like Laurens, a handsome, muscular frame, broad shoulders squared and leveled, arms stiff behind his back, his gait is gracefull, smooth as he walks towards the Marquis, that Hamilton would often mistake him for Laurens himself.

"Yes, Marquis?" Tallmadge asks.

That's the only way Hamilton could tell the difference between Tallmadge and Laurens: their accents. Tallmadge, raised from Setaucket, a true New Yorker, will often say "Alright" as "Awright" with an W replacing the L while Laurens, raised from South Carolina, is a true southerner. His voice more country-like.

"The General would like to speak with you," Lafayette says. "He's right down that hall."

Tallmadge nods before disappearing around the corner.

"Ah, Marquis!" Meade says, standing up from his chair to embrace his old friend. "Welcome back to the world of living!"

The Marquis chuckles as he rolls his eyes fondly. "The General had me cooped up in there all day. I must confess, I am glad to be back among my family once more."

"Family?" Hamilton says, his heart stopping.

The Marquis raises his eyebrows and grins, patting Hamilton's shoulder and squeezes it. "Why yes, petit lion. We're all family here."

"Oh," is all Hamilton was able to say.

Hamilton couldn't help but smile as the Marquis's words rings through his head.

Family...

~~~

A short while later when the sky has truly darken, do the aides finally finish their work for the day and can finally retire. Hamilton gathers up the dispatches and letters that need to be sent while Laurens straightens the quills and inkpots and while Meade rolls up the map and Tallmadge finishes a last little assignment from General Washington. The others had already gone up the second floor to bed.

"Looks like it's about to rain," Lafayette says from the living room, glancing out the window, peelng the curtain back.

Hamilton freezes insantly, his eyes widening, face paling.

"W-What?" Hamilton stutters as he slowly turns to face Lafyaette.

"Rain," Lafayette says with a shrug. "I said it looked like it's about to rain."

"Just...just rain?" Hamilton says shakily. Laurens frowns at the hesitancy in Hamilton's voice. "Right?"

Lafayette nods, confused. "Mhm. Just rain, I believe..."

Hamilton lets out a breath. "Okay. Okay. That's okay. That's okay."

Laurens rests a hand on Hamilton's arm. "Hey, you alright, Hamilton?"

Hamilton swallows and nods, flashing Laurens a reassuring yet not convincing smile. "Yes, Laurens, I'm fine. I thank you for your co...concern..."

Laurens frowns as he glances over at the Marquis who shrugs before returning his gaze back to Hamilton.

A half hour later, when Hamilton and Laurens are finally alone together in their shared room was the Marquis actually right.

Hamilton lays with only his night shirt on and the blankets draped over his propped up knees. He leans agaisnt the pillows with his flaming red hair pulled out of its ponytail, surrounding his face in a sea of red. Hamilton has a book propped up agaisnt his knees, licking his finger before flipping the page. Laurens stands by the bed, shrugging off his blue Continental coat and draping it over the chair at the desk before untying his cravat to pull his white hunting shirt off. Hamilton glances up at him with small smile on his face as he watches Laurens climb inside the bed beside him, flipping the covers on his side and scoots closer to his Hamilton.

Hamilton chuckles as he rests his head on Laurens's bare chest, just below his chin, still reading the book. Laurens smiles softly as he wraps an arm around Hamilton, squeezing his shoulder as he presses a kiss to his brow. Hamilton then turns to press his lips agaisnt Laurens, once, twice, three times before settling back down onto his chest. The two stay like that together for quite some time, reading together and enjoying this domestic blissful peace they have with each other. This, Laurens thinks, has got to be the best part of his day.

"Whatcha readin' there, dear boy?" Laurens asks, breaking the silence.

"Plutarch Lives," Hamilton yawns as he flips the page.

Laurens chuckles. "Again?"

"Well, what can I say--"

Hamilton stops when he hears something clinking agaisnt the window. Hamilton tenses as he glances up at Laurens before sitting himself up.

"Jack...what's...what's that?" Hamilton says.

Laurens flips the bedsheets off as he climbs out of the bed and shirtless yet still wearing his breeches and bare foot, Laurens peels back the curtain slightly to see the window streaking with rain. Laurens curses.

"Ah, shit," Laurens grumbles. He releases the curtain and climbs back in the bed.

"What? What is it, my dear?" Hamilton asks shakily.

"It's rainin' darlin'," Laurens says, pulling Hamilton close to him and presses a kiss to his lips. "Nothin' to worry 'bout. Let's just get some rest. We both need it."

Hamilton chuckles and nods. "Yes, you're right, my dear."

Laurens presses a kiss to Hamilton's brow before blowing out the candle beside him as Hamilton closes the book.

"Night, Ginger," Laurens says with a smirk.

"Night, Jackass," Hamilton teases, closing his eyes as he rests his head on Laurens's chest.

~~~

Hamilton awakes with a sharp gasp when he hears a thunderous boom. He shoots upright in the bed, breathing hard and instantly begins to shake. He blinks the sleep out of eyes and winces when he sees the lighting--a bright white--flash. He clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle the scream as to not wake Laurens who sleeps peacefully on his side, his back facing Hamilton.

Hamilton bites his lip hard when he hears the sharp wind whistle outside, the branches dancing through the gusty wind. Hamilton squeezes his eyes shut and flinches when he sees another flash of lightning flash outside. He whimpers when he hears the boom again, clearly remembering the hurricane back in Nevis. He remembers his home being destroyed, being completely eaten up by the raging storm. Hamilton remembers, clearly, the shrilled screams of the civilians being swallowed by the waves of the flood as he runs to find shelter, to find safety. Hamilton could still hear the distant wails of infants. Hamilton hears another boom and yelps, his body trembling. His heart beating faster, his breathing sharp and labored. He squeezes his eyes harder.

Hamilton could see his younger self crouched, hidden somewhere in an abondened home, knees up to his chest as he watches with horror as his home gets destroyed, burned to ashes with the houses nearby on fire due to the lightning strikes. Hamilton yelps when he sees a lightning flash, thinking it would burn the house they're currently staying. He shakes, as if the Earth itself were shaking as well.

Hamilton tries to focus on his breathing, trying to calm himself, trying to focus on the now and on the present. Trying to remember who is and where he is.

"Alex...?" Laurens grumbles, stirring awake as he could feel Hamilton's trembles beside him and hear his whimpers.

Hamilton whimpers again when he hears the thunder, burying his face into his knees, as he squeezes his eyes shut in hopes it would keep the tears at bay.

Laurens frowns, his heart cracking when he sits up. He frowns when he sees Hamilton trembling beside him. Laurens presses his lips together as he tries to figure out what to do. He's never seen Hamilton in so much distress as this before.

"Alexander...?" Laurens says.

Hamilton yelps again and flinches when he sees the lightning flash. Hamilton presses the heel of his plam to his mouth, to stifle the whimper that escapes him. Laurens's heart cracks even more at the sight. Laurens sighs through his nose as he wraps an arm around Hamilton, pulling him closer and rubbing his shoulder up and down comfortingly.

A fear of storms, Laurens thinks. Who would have guessed?

"J-J-John...?" Hamilton whimpers, wincing at the lightning again.

Laurens nods. "Yes. It's me my dear boy. I'm here." A pause. "I'm here. You're okay...you're okay..."

Hamiltons swallows. "H-Hurricane..."

Laurens shakes his head. "There's no hurricane, love. You're with me."

"With you..." Hamilton murmurs, his head on Laurens's shoulder as he sniffs.

Laurens nods, a small smile on his face as he presses a kiss to his forehead. "With me."

Silence.

"You fear storms?" Laurens asks. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hamilton sniffs and whimpers, gripping Laurens's arm. "I don't fear them. It's just...I...they bring me back to the Caribbean, where I was raised. When I was fourteen...a...a hurricane came and it...it..."

"Alex, you don't have to tell me--"

"No..." Hamilton sniffs and sits up. "You desrve to know..." He clears his throat. "When I was fourteen...a...a hurricane came...and it...it destroyed my home, Nevis in the British West Indies in the Caribbean. I...I...I was a clerk at the time in the countinghouse of two New York merchants...and by then...I had already lost my father."

Laurens doesn't say anything.

"He abandoned me when I was ten...and...when I was twleve...my mother fell ill and so did I. I recuperated but my mother..."

"She died," Laurens finishes.

Hamilton nods, tears in his eyes. Laurens pulls him close as Hamilton continue.

"Then...my brother and I moved in with our cousin who not long after we moved in, committed suicide..."

"Alex..."

"And then the hurricane came," Hamilton explains. "It...James, my brother, and I were...were seperated because of it. Never saw him agian..."

"Alex..."

"It destroyed everything," Hamilton mumbling. "It ate everything up. Destroyed homes, killed people. It killed chlldren. I don't understand...why...out of all people...did I survive?"

"Alex...I'm so sorry," Laurens soothes. "I--"

"Just hold me, Jack," Hamilton whispers, choking out a quiet sob. "Please..."

Laurens nods and presses a kiss to Hamilton's forehead before pulling him even closer. "Shh...of course, love. I'm right here. You're safe, Alexander. You're not back there. You're home."

Hamilton swallows as he looks up at Laurens, cradling Laurens's jaw.

"Jack?" Hamilton asks, sniffling.

Laurens smiles softly as he wipes the stray tears off of Hamilton's freckled cheeks.

"Yes?" Laurens asks, eyebrow raised.

"Promise me...just promise me, Jack...you'll...you'll never leave me...you'll stay here...with me...forever..." A pause. “Please...I love you...and I lost everyone...I can’t lose you too...just...just promise me...Jack...

Laurens inhales sharply, holding his breath as he pinches lips together. He rests his chin on Hamilton's head, wrapping both arms around him, pressing a soft kiss into Hamilton's russet curls.

"I promise."

What a lie...

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boywizardscanbecute · 4 years

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Love Takes its Time

Hey guys!! Here’s that Theseus x reader fic that time jumps! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH I HOPE YOU GUYS DO TOO!!!! It’s seriously some tooth-rotting fluff. Let me know if you like it or have any requests!!

The world around you seemed to fade away as you climbed higher and higher into the branches, Newt trailing just below you. “Y/n slow down!” Newt huffed after you. A giggle escaped your lips as you worked quicker to reach the bowtruckles before your best friend. You hear a familiar sigh as Newt blows his hair out of his face and continues calling you, louder and louder. “Seriously y/n you’ll get hurt!” But your 7 year old self couldn’t be bothered to listen.

Across the yard, the eldest scamander looks up from his brand new hogwarts textbooks and wand. It would be his first year attending. He rolls his eyes and mumbles, “I better go see what those two are getting into now.” Rising from his spot, Theseus strolls over to the tall tree behind the hippogriff paddock in his parents backyard. His eyes wander up to his younger brother, desperately trying to catch up, and you, another 10 feet above him. Ever the responsible one, Theseus shouts, “y/n m/n l/n you get down from there this instant!” You look down at Theseus and laugh profusely. “Lighten up Thes, you’re not my mother!” Theseus calls more desperately, “you’ll get hurt!” Turning back to the tree, you ascend further. “Will she never listen?” You catch Theseus saying as you reach for another branch to hold onto. As you pull yourself up, the branch snaps and you’re falling, falling through the air. A high pitched shriek escapes your lips and Theseus’s eyes grow wide with terror at the thought of you getting hurt. Rather dumbly, Theseus races towards your falling form, arms outstretched. Your back slams against his form as his arms close around your waist and the two of you hit the ground with a loud thud. The thud echoing in your ears, you sit in Theseus’s arms, stunned into silence for a brief moment. As sound returns to your ears, you can hear Newt frantically scrambling down from the tree mixed with Theseus’s quick and shallow breathing from catching you. Turning around, you look at Theseus and are met with a frightening glare. “Why must you always go and put yourself in these kinds of dangerous situations?” He growls. “I can’t always be there to watch you,” he continues, pulling a branch from your hair. He sounded angry, sure, but you could see behind those blue eyes that he was used to looking after you. If Theseus was there, you knew that you were safe. Newt announces himself by dropping from the lowest branch and pulls you upwards into a bone crushing hug. “Y/n, I told you to wait until I caught up with you. I could have caught you,” he rushes the words out. Smirking at Theseus, you reply, “Oh Newt. That’s why we have Theseus around. So he can always watch over us.” Theseus rises to his feet and bites back, “I won’t always be there to keep you two out of trouble. I’ll be at Hogwarts soon enough.” This leads to a simultaneous groan from you and Newt. The pair of you were dying to attend Hogwarts, but still had to wait four more years. “Oh we’ll be there soon enough, just you wait!” you snap back at Theseus. He chuckles and turns back towards the house. “Oh your brother can be so infuriating sometimes!” you groan at Newt. Newt chuckles, “You mustn’t always let him get to you like that. Learn to ignore him, like I do.” You roll your eyes, “Theseus is a pretty hard person to ignore.” Newt laughs and you follow him back towards the house.

XXXX

Your heart raced as your name was called in the front of the great hall. Newt had just been sorted into Hufflepuff, and Theseus had been a proud Hufflepuff these past four years. Frightened, you wandered up to the sorting hat. It seems you had nothing to worry about, for the hat immediately calls out, “Hufflepuff!” Delighted, you wander over to where Newt sits beside his older brother. “Ready to keep us out of more trouble?” you grin at Theseus, who chuckles and rolls his eyes, patting you on the head while he does so. You push his hand away and fix your hair. Newt’s eyes are trained upon a girl at the Slytherin table, but you don’t notice, entranced by the food that now appears on your plate in front of you.

Theseus, now a fifth year prefect, begins to lead you and the other new Hufflepuffs down to the common room. You and Newt linger at the back of the line and Newt whispers, “I heard that there are nifflers down by the green houses. Shall we go and have a look?” You beam in reply and the two of you slip out of line, towards the Oak front doors.

Wandering down by the greenhouses, you catch a glimpse of a Niffler digging underneath one of the buildings. “Newt, I saw one!” you shriek with delight. Another Niffler goes streaking past you, into the Forbidden Forest. Without hesitation, you begin to follow it. “Y/n, not in there! We aren’t allowed!” Newt hisses at you. That was always like Newt, to suggest an idea bound to get you into trouble, and then back out. You roll your eyes at him, and race after the Niffler into the woods. Newt follows, rather reluctantly. Unbeknownst to the two of you, a rather angry Theseus comes striding across the lawn, following his brother to no doubt wherever you had run off to.

Barrelling around a tall Oak tree, you lose sight of the Niffler and instead nearly come running into a gigantic Centaur. Falling to the ground, the Centaur rears back and his hoof catches you in the face, creating a deep gash at the edge of your forehead. A voice comes rising out of the trees, shouting, “Forgive them. They know not to go here, they are merely stubborn first years!” Theseus Scamander, always coming to your rescue. “You ought to keep better control over them then,” the Centaur bellows, backing into the trees. He turns and gallops away. Theseus comes striding up to you, fully set on lecturing you, when he notices the blood dripping down your forehead. Squatting down to your level, he says shockingly softly, “Now y/n, why must you always go and get yourself hurt whenever I’m not there to stop you.” You lightly laugh and reply, “I knew you would come Thes.” Unbeknownst to you, his heart gives a small tug at the nickname you have for him. Pulling you up, Theseus brushes your hair away from the cut and mutters, “Tergeo,” healing it instantly. “Thanks,” you mumble. Theseus, now aware his hand is still in your hair, drops it instantly and coughs, “We aren’t telling a soul about this. I don’t want Hufflepuff losing house points before we even have any.” You and Newt nod and follow him back to the castle. “You really like to test my brother’s patience, don’t you?” Newt whispers into the night. “It’s only my favorite pastime,” you giggle back.

XXXX

Entering into your third year, you decided to try out for Quidditch. Quick as anything on your broom, you made the position of chaser, despite the pushback from Team Captain and Seeker Theseus Scamander. “Well, congratulations y/n, I never realized how talented a chaser you were,” Theseus tells you as the two of you walk back to the common room. “Should’ve realized,” you smirked at him, “Besides, I’m the best at everything,” you continue sarcastically. Theseus indulges your little joke and continues, “You sure are, I’m not sure how I didn’t see it before.” Arriving at the common room, Theseus tells you before going to bed, “You better be ready for our first match next week against Slytherin.” “I’m always ready Thes,” you grin back.

That match was a brutal one. You knew that Slytherin liked to play dirty, but you had never witnessed it firsthand before. Being the fastest chaser on Hufflepuff you were naturally the largest target, and you were worried about getting hurt, but you shouldn’t have been. In a characteristically un-Theseus manner, Theseus would regularly abandon his post as seeker and instead protect you from bludgers thrown your way by placing himself in front of them instead. Glancing over the stands, you search for Newt and find him standing in the Slytherin section near that peculiar girl, Leta Lestrange. “We’ll be having a chat about that later Newton,” you grumble under your breath. Then Theseus caught his first glimpse of the snitch. Diving for it, you watched as both Slytherin beaters followed him with the bludgers. Theseus unknowingly raced towards the snitch and was knocked back to back with both bludgers. His hand reached out for the snitch while he fell 10 feet off his broom, hitting the ground with an almighty thud. The quaffle in your hand, you dropped it and raced over to where Theseus lay. The Slytherin beaters floated a couple feet away on their broom laughing, and you charged at them, pummeling them both off their brooms and onto the ground. Once that was accomplished, you sped back to Theseus, kneeling beside him. “Thes are you okay?” you demanded an answer. He blinks his eyes slowly open and replies, “I know that you didn’t just drop the quaffle to come over here. Did you?” You smile sheepishly and say, “You were hurt.” Theseus continues, “And you committed multiple fouls by beating up those beaters.” “They had it coming,” you glower, thinking about those brutes. Theseus sits up and grimaces, clutching his ribs. You suspect they are broken. “I’m sorry that I cost us the match,” you apologize profusely. Theseus grins at you and opens his palm, replying, “You’re lucky I’m a good seeker.” The golden snitch stared back at you from his large hand. As Hufflepuff is declared the winner, you rope Theseus into a tight hug. When you realize everyone is watching these events unfold on the field, you pull away and blush profusely. Theseus ruffles your hair playfully. Standing up, the crowd cheers and you and Theseus raise your hands in victory. You expect to see Newt smiling down at you, but he instead stares at his Slytherin companion, leaving an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

XXX

Your fifth year at Hogwarts was like nothing you had ever known. Newt spent all his time with Leta and it ate and ate at you. Theseus was gone, graduated, a ministry man now. You were so proud of him, starting in the auror department at such a young age. You wished he was still around to talk to. It seemed like Newt wanted nothing to do with you anymore. Not since you warned him about the peculiar and horrific things that you had heard about Leta Lestrange. She was using Newt and you knew it. Speaking of Newt, he just entered the common room, and there were tears streaming down his cheeks. “Newt what’s wrong?” you ran up to him, reaching to wipe away the tears. He shrugs, “I have to leave Hogwarts.” “What? Why?” you exclaim. “It’s… Something’s happened. And I didn’t want Leta to get into trouble. She has a bad enough reputation as it is. So I… I said it was me.” “What was you?” you shoot back. “It doesn’t matter now,” he replies. Anger courses through you and you scream at Newt, “Well I hope she was worth it Newt! Theseus graduated and now you’re being kicked out! Was it your intention to leave me all alone?” Before he can answer you race up to your bedroom, fresh angry tears coursing their track down your cheeks. Newt doesn’t even attempt to follow.

The following months were the loneliest yet. Newt was gone, and not only was he gone, he stopped writing. So hung up on Leta Lestrange. You decided that over the Holiday you would go and speak to Theseus. As a last ditch attempt to help Newt. After all your family’s home was just over the hill from the Scamanders. Bundling up and pulling on your boots, you trudged through the snow to the Scamander’s front door on the morning of Christmas Eve. It’s Newt that answers the door. Before he begins you cut him off, “I’m not here to see you. I’m here to see Theseus.” Theseus appears in the doorway at the sound of his name. “Thes. Can I talk to you please?” Theseus shrugs his approval and follows you back into the snow, pulling his coat on as he goes. Your feet carry you over to the tree where you fell all those years ago. “Y/n what’s the matter?” Theseus asks solemnly. You look up at him and nearly beg, “Please, Thes, is there anyway that we can help Newt? Get him back into Hogwarts, get him a job, something!” Theseus sighs, “I’ve already spoken to Professor Dumbledore. He said Headmaster Dippet will not budge on this.” You cry out in exasperation, “Why would he do this? Why would he ruin his future?” Theseus answers quietly, “Because he loves her. He loves Leta. You and I both know this.” You go to ask why once again when Theseus answers, “People don’t pick those that they love.” You nod solemnly. Theseus continues, “I may have found him a position. As an entry level office worker. An errand boy really, but it is in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.” “Really?” you ask hopefully. Theseus smiles, “Really. It will be my Christmas present to him.” His hands hastily clasp your waist tightly as you haphazardly leap into Theseus’s

arms out of pure joy, thanking him profusely. When the moment passes, he sets you down gently, leaving an absence of warmth where his hands just held you. You notice his ears and the tip of his nose tinged pink. Moving on he asks, “Is it terribly lonely at Hogwarts? Without Newt or I there?” You answer honestly, “It’s awful. I’m just focusing on my studies and getting out with the best grades possible.” “That a girl,” Theseus whispers,taking your hands, “I want you to write okay? Whenever you’re feeling alone. Write to me, please.” You smile at him and nod, the two of you walking back to the house, his large hand wrapped around your small one, because you had forgotten your gloves, he says.

XXX

War was coming. This you knew for certain. Each day as a healer you saw more and more injured aurors than your heart could take. After Hogwarts, Theseus offered you a position as an auror, no one knew defensive spells better than you. But you would rather spend your time healing. Lately, you have been rethinking this. And yet Theseus’s letters had stopped. There was no way to reach him. Wiping your hands on your uniform, you depart from St. Mungo’s for the flat you now shared with Newt.

Newt, once your best friend again, was working feverishly on his book. You admired his work ethic, and getting to help him take care of the creatures wasn’t too bad either. Walking in the door you announce, “Newt I’m home!” Your friend sits rather glumly at the kitchen table. “What’s the matter?” you ask, sitting down next to him. “My request to lift the travel ban has been denied once again.” “We were expecting this though?” you question the severity of his emotions. He whispers in reply, “Theseus was there. He denied it.” Shooting to your feet you shout, “He did not!” Newt solemnly nods. “Oh well that is it,” you decided. And striding towards the fire place, you department for the ministry, hoping to find Theseus there.

Ignoring the secretary who informs you that it is after hours, you march down the hallway, searching for Theseus Scamander’s office. The light was still on under the door. You weren’t surprised. Theseus was always a hard worker. Not bothering to knock, you swing the door open and it ricochets off of the wall. Theseus looks up from his desk and you’re shocked by what you see. He might as well have aged 30 years with the stress displayed on his features. You hadn’t heard from him in 2 years. His eyes grow wide as he drinks in the sight of you. “Y/n, what an unexpected surprise. I heard you were head healer now. Congratulations,” he offers you. You snap, “I don’t want your congratulations. I want to know why you won’t lift Newt’s travel ban.” Theseus sighed tiredly, “It’s been two years since we last spoke and no pleasantries? You always were straight to the point.” Sitting on the edge of his desk Theseus motions you over to him. “At least let me get a good look at you,” he plasters on his charm. In reply, you step closer and say softly, “You look tired Thes. Why are you still here?” “Lots to do,” he shrugs, “Been losing aurors left and right.” You nod. Theseus offers you a chair and you sit, looking up at him. You tell him, “You know that Newt will find a way to travel. Whether or not the ban is lifted.” Theseus rubs his hands on his face and groans, “I know that.” Peeking between his fingers, he watches you looking at him and wonders why he never noticed the way your hair perfectly framed your face before. Or maybe he had and just pushed the thought down. Your freckles dazzled back at him and he studied your face closely, drinking in your features. “Thes?” you prompt him out of his daze. He shakes his head and sighs, “It’s out of my control. I’ve got my boss, Travers, breathing down my neck about this y/n. Not to mention he keeps asking why you won’t come and work for us.” You immediately begin, “Theseus you know that I need to be a healer.” He cuts you off, “Yes I know, I know.” The words are out of your mouth before you know it and you’re asking, “Why did you stop writing?” Theseus stares down at you, wide-eyed. “I thought that would have been obvious,” he ponders. “Do enlighten me then,” you continue sarcastically. He looks at you and states, “They think we’re being tracked. By Grindelwald’s followers. I couldn’t risk them finding out where you were. I had to keep you safe.” Your next retort dies in your throat at that. “Oh.. well… thanks,” you mumble. Theseus bravely reaches for your hand and admits, “It was torture, not getting to write. Not getting to hear from you, to make sure you were okay.” His fingers lace themselves between yours. You smile thinking back to the last time Theseus held your hand. When he told you about Newt’s job and he held you in the snow as you were overcome with excitement. “It was for me too,” you confess. Time slows as Theseus pulls you into his arms and tightly hugs you. It was a feeling you wouldn’t soon forget and you knew in your heart that you had been harboring feelings for this man for a long time. You rest your head on his chest and breathe deeply. Before you know it, tears trickle onto his suit and he pulls your chin up, concern etched on his features. “Whatever is the matter?” he asks, concerned. “I’ve been so worried about you,” you sigh breathlessly. Theseus moves in to wipe your tears away, his nose just brushing yours, and promises, “I’m okay. I can handle myself, I swear.” “You better,” you laugh nervously, chills running down your spine as Theseus’s breath washes over your skin. He reaches to wipe away the rest of your tears and asks, “Can I take you back to your place?” You chuckle, “Yeah, I’m actually living with Newt now, if you didn’t know.” He replies, “Quite unconventional, don’t you think?” You laugh, “Oh Thes, you know that we’re just friends. Newt and I will always be just friends.” Theseus nods, and if you weren’t mistakened, a look of relief spreads across his features. This time he lets go of your hand.

Theseus enters the flat that you and Newt share, but he can’t stay. Theseus insists on leaving before Newt knows that he is there. And in an uncharacteristic fashion, you go to bed early, without tea. Your mind dreams of Theseus and you long to be in his arms again, never having felt safer.

XXX

The war was here, and it was worse than anything you could have imagined. “Ms. l/n there’s been an incident. At least 20 aurors were gravely injured at one of Grindelwald’s rallies on the outskirts of London. We need you there right away to set up a healing site.” With this news, your first thoughts were of Theseus. Not bothering to reply, you disapparrate, fearing the worst.

Reappearing, your heart stops at the destruction all around you. You take a second to let your chest go numb, refusing to feel pain because there was too much work to be done. Too many lives to be saved. One by one, you bring the injured to St. Mungo’s and leave them in the hands of various healers. Those that are dying, or too ill to move, you try to make as comfortable as possible. You meet person after person hurting to different degrees. And as you meet auror after injured auror, your heart pines for Theseus. To know that he is safe. That he is alive. Your coworker arrives and takes over burying the dead and tending to the dying. She tells you, “I can handle everything here, but they are swamped back at the hospital. They’ll need your help.” you nod and depart.

Each bed you go to the aurors thank you profusely for saving them. Mind numb, you acknowledge them and tell them to try and get some rest. You soon lose count after checking on 50 patients. Fatigue, dread, and depression have their clutches on you and you’re not sure how much longer you can carry on pretending you are okay with the destruction and death happening around you. And yet going home and not helping as much as physically possible, you knew that wasn’t an option for you.

5 hours later Newt appears at the front desk with dinner for you. “I brought you something to eat. I can’t imagine you feel very much like eating right now, but please do eat for me. You need to stay strong.” You gulp and nod. Newt opens his arms and you step forward, folding into his chest, silently shedding tears. “Have you heard from Theseus,” you croak into his coat, your hope rising with every word. Newt softly responds, holding you tighter, “No, I haven’t. I’m so sorry y/n.” You don’t reply, your hope dropping on the floor and shattering to bits. A voice from down the hall calls, “Y/n, we need you!” You reluctantly let go of Newt. He leaves you with a, “I’ll let you know the moment I hear something.” You quickly rush down the hall, preparing to attend to more patients.

It is now 3 am and you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand on your own two feet. Your vision blurred, you thought you could see a new patient being wheeled down the ward. Looking up, you thought you saw the telltale auburn curls of Theseus Scamander. Shaking your head, you blinked your eyes hard and looked back in the direction of the bed. It was Theseus. Then he disappeared around the corner. Every patient you were tending to, everything you had to do, it all faded from your mind as you uttered one name. His name, “Theseus.” Adrenaline took over your body and you ran after him. People called after you, wondering what you were doing. Theseus was being wheeled into Intensive Care. He was pushed into a room and the door was shut, your breath leaving with it. The doctor comes down the hall and you demand to know, “What is wrong with Theseus?” The doctor replies, “So you know Mr. Scamander?” “Yes, what’s happening!” your voice rises. The doctor can clearly see how much you care, and says gently, “He’ll be alright y/n. He just had extended exposure to the cruciatus curse. He broke nearly every bone in his body.” Your heart stopped. Grabbing the doctor’s hand you beg to know, “Are you sure he will be alright.” The doctor answers, “I’m sure. There may be some lasting damage, but he will not die.” Then he says the words you’ve been waiting to hear. “You can stay with him if you wish to.” That’s all you need to hear and you push yourself through the door, over to where Theseus lay.

Theseus’s POV

Every bone in his body ached. In the blackness of his mind, the biggest thing he felt was painstaking regret. He hadn’t got to see Y/n, not since the ministry. He would surely die wherever he was, without getting to tell her how he really felt. Because of course he loved her. Of that, he was certain. There was no doubt in his mind that he had loved you since the day you fell out of that tree into his arms. It’s like he could almost see you there before him. Could hear your angelic voice, calling, calling out to him, telling him that you are there. As his time in the darkness grew, so did his pain. His whole body ached like nothing he had ever felt before. There was a light just beyond his eyelids, and Theseus Scamander strained to open his eyes.

Theseus’s first thought after opening his eyes was that he had died and went to heaven. You knelt at the foot of his bed, clutching his hand so tightly that it hurt, but he didn’t mind. But as Theseus took in the sight of you, he knew this must be real. For you appeared to have been to hell and back. There was blood covering your crisp, white uniform. Your hair hung in ragged chunks around your face, part of it haphazardly pulled back. Your eyes appear sunken in from being awake for only God knows how long and your cheeks were marked permanently wet from the unending trail of tears. In a soft voice he could hear you whispering over him, like a prayer, “I will always watch over you.” And suddenly he felt a great peace wash over him as he fell back asleep.

Regular POV

It had been days since Theseus was first brought in and you were quickly losing hope. Called away to yet another raid, you promised a sleeping Theseus that you would check on him when you returned.

5 hours later you walk through the halls leading to Theseus’s room, exhaustion threatening to pull you down with every step. Upon entering, your mind went blank and your heart swelled with the most joy you had ever felt. Theseus was sitting up in his bed, watching you. “You’re awake,” you breathe in awe. Theseus painfully laughs, “Keen observation y/n.” Your feet carry you over to him and you sit on the side of his bed, pulling him tightly into your arms, sobbing into his shoulder. “I thought you were dead,” you cry. He manages to wrap an arm around you and stroke your hair affectionately, a striking difference from the way he used to ruffle it when you were a child. Word vomit overtakes you and you breathe quietly for only him to hear, “Theseus I love you.” He’s stunned into silence and lifts your chin up, staring into your eyes. “What was that?” he asks longingly, sure that he heard you wrong. You stare back at him, and lay your cards out on the table. Brushing his cheek gently, you repeat, “ Theseus. I love you.” He brushes his hand against your cheek and leans in until his lips are just above your own. And then he says, “I love you too y/n,” and kisses you softly, something he had been waiting to do for years and years.

XXX

“My darling husband, you just got back, are you sure you have to leave?” you whine at Theseus. He smiles at you, picking you up into his arms, whispering, “I’ll make it up to you I swear.” “You better,” you chide him. And then you ask the most important question. “How long will you be gone?” He gulps and mumbles, “A couple of months. The ministry wants to find Credence.” “A couple of months!” you shout. Theseus winces at your volume. “I’ll try to be back as soon as I can,” he tries to console you. It was no use. You stand with your arms crossed, anger rolling off of you in waves. Theseus sneaks up behind you and begins kissing your neck. “Theseus…. Stop,” you gasp half-heartedly, heat flooding your body. He chuckles and whispers in your ear, “Do you really want me to stop?” Your voice comes out as a whimper as he nibbles on your earlobe, “I don’t know.” Theseus laughs at this and scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom.

XXX

Four months. It had been four months since Theseus left for Paris, and every day without him was harder than the last. Newt left shortly after Thes did, no doubt to chase after Tina. But Tina was a remarkable improvement compared to Leta. And all of the sudden it was like Hogwarts all over again, you alone without Newt or Theseus. Although, you weren’t entirely alone. Theseus was in for quite a large surprise when he came home, for your last reunion resulted in you becoming pregnant. The other healers insisted that you take time off, not wanting to put your child in danger. But you refused. The war raged on. People needed your help and expertise now more than ever. Sighing into your cup of tea, you long for the presence of your husband. It’s then that a loud, sharp knock echoes against the door. Walking over to it, you’re shocked to see professor Dumbledore standing before you, soaking wet from the rain. “Professor, what can I do for you?” you ask as you usher him inside. He eyes your stomach and sighs, “Theseus won’t like this.” “Like what?” you ask back. Dumbledore groans, “Grindelwald is rallying in Paris with his followers. They’re going to need a healer. There is sure to be death at the Lestrange Tomb tonight.” You softly ask the million dollar question, “And Newt and Theseus? Are they there.” Dumbledore nods. As you move past him to depart Dumbledore grabs your arm and practically begs, “Y/n, be careful.” You nod determinedly and depart for Paris.

When you arrive,it’s clear that the rally is already over. The graveyard is razed to the ground and a small group of people sit on the steps near the Lestrange tomb. Running as fast as you can, their faces come into view and you recognize Newt, a short and round man, and a young woman you can only assume to be Tina Goldstein. “Newt thank god!” you shout, bringing their attention up to you. Pulling him into a tight hug, you sob, “Thank god you’re alright.” Newt returns your hug and croaks horsley, “You shouldn’t be here.” He places you at arm's length and it is then that he takes in your pregnant belly. “My god, you really shouldn’t be here. Go home, please,” he hisses. Ignoring his request, you ask sniffle, “Where is he Newt? Where is the father of my child?” Newt, overridden with guilt, chokes, “I don’t know. I lost him after we deflected the fiend fyre from Grindelwald. He should be here.” A great sense of foreboding floods your system. Losing all sense of caution and clutching your belly, you begin trekking around the tomb, shouting desperately, “Theseus! Theseus Scamander! Please answer me!” Turning the corner, you see his large form, sprawled in the grass, concussed you concluded, by the great gash on his forehead. “Theseus!” you shriek, racing over to him. Pulling out your wand you mutter, “Renervate.” Theseus’s eyes slowly open. “Y/n? Is this heaven?” he mumbles softly. Despite everything, you laugh. “No Theseus. Come on, we’ve got to get you home,” you declare. Pulling him to his feet, Theseus then fully takes in the state of you. “Are you….” his voice trails off, almost scared of the answer. You nod and respond softly, “I am.” Theseus’s face cracks into the widest smile you’ve ever known and he lifts you in his arms, his hands taking their rightful place around your waist, sobbing joyfully. “My y/n, with child!” he pronounces gleefully. You giggle as he puts you down and ask, “Theseus would you please take your pregnant wife home?” He offers you his arm, plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “It would be my pleasure.”

XXX

Theseus didn’t work out in the field much these days, only when it was vitally important. So when he was called to a rally last night, you knew he would be exhausted. This was the second time Theseus was on a mission when you found out you were yet again pregnant. Tip toeing out of your bedroom, you plant a tender kiss to his forehead and shut the door quietly behind you. Walking into the second bedroom, you approach your first-born. “Caden my love, it is time to wake up,” you kiss your son sweetly on the cheek. He grumbles that he is still sleepy. Dragging him out of bed, you reposition the three year old on your hip and go to wake your 6 month old son Liam. “Good morning my treasure,” you coo to where he lies in the crib. Liam blinks his eyes open, his blue eyes nearly matching Theseus’s, and stretches his tiny hands, rubbing at his freckles. Your heart swells at the thought of another mini-Theseus wandering around your home. With both children in your arms you bring them into the kitchen to begin breakfast. As soon as you put Caden down he declares, “I want to go wake daddy!” You immediately tell him strictly, “Caden we can’t do that just yet. Daddy had a very long night at work and he needs his rest.” Caden pouts and in an attempt to distract him you ask, “How about some blueberry pancakes for breakfast my love?” He beams and immediately runs to the table, Auburn curls flopping as he goes. You sigh in exhaustion and your mind turns round and round as you think about bringing a third child into the mix. And despite the nervousness tingling through you, you also feel an immense amount of joy of the family you and Theseus had created.

Humming softly, you’re unaware of a quiet Theseus who stands in the doorway, watching you with gentle awe and admiration. Clothed in his pajamas and messy hair pulled up out of your face, Liam was strapped against your chest making tiny soft noises as you bustled around making breakfast. Caden has fallen asleep at the table. Coming up behind you, Theseus snakes an arm around your waist and hums, “Good morning darling,” in your ear. Turning around you smile, “Good morning love. I was going to let you sleep some more. You seemed very tired.” Theseus chuckles, “How could I be sleeping knowing that my goddess of a wife and our two beautiful babes are in the next room?” Before you have time to comment, Caden leaps from his spot at the table and shouts, “Daddy, you’re awake!” Theseus has the wind knocked out of him as Caden hangs on his back, and you can see just how much being an auror aged him. “My boy, did you take good care of your mommy when I was away yesterday?” Theseus asks his eldest son very seriously. Caden puffs out his chest in his father’s arms and nearly shouts, “Of course I did!” You laugh and give your son a kiss on the nose. Liam begins to cry and you know that he must be hungry. “Sit down my love, you look exhausted,” you rub Theseus’s back. He sits at the table and you put his plate in front of him, sitting down across from him. Breastfeeding your son, Theseus smiles at you and gushes, “You are truly the most wonderful mother to our children.” You blush in thanks.

Hours later, after a very chaotic lunch, you managed to get Liam and Caden down for naps. Coming back into the living room, you grin at Theseus passed out on the couch. Brushing his hair from his forehead, you give him a tender kiss and whisper, “My love, why don’t we nap as well?” Theseus nods and groggily murmurs in agreement.

He lays down on your bed, and opens his arms up for you. Crawling into his lap, you sigh in contentment. Theseus whispers into your hair, “There is nothing more attractive than watching you raise our children.” You giggle and turn to face him, asking, “Really?” Theseus places kisses on both of your cheeks and says, “Really.” Always honest, Theseus admits, “I only wish we had a little girl just like you. Someone I can spoil endlessly, like I do you.” Heat rises to your face and you decide that now is as good of a time as any. “Well, I don’t know if it will be a girl, but there’s a 50% chance,” you look at him anxiously. Theseus chuckles, “Are you serious?” “It’s not my fault that you can’t keep your hands off of me!” your voice rises defensively. Theseus grabs both of your hands and cuts you off, “No, no, my darling y/n, I just can’t believe my luck is all. Another baby already, it’s… it’s such amazing news.” A tear comes to his eyes. “Are you really happy?” you whisper. He kisses you in reply. A long, soft, intimate kiss. When he pulls back he smiles, “Of course I am. You have given me the most amazing family. I love you, I love our life together, I love our family.” Theseus’s hands travel to your stomach and he sighs in contentment. “I love you Theseus,” you gush. He kisses your hair and murmurs, “Sleep now love.” You obey and fall into a peaceful sleep, curled up in your husband’s arms.

#theseus x reader #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt x reader #fbawtft #fbcog #newt scamander

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bipercabeth · 4 years

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percabeth | hurt/comfort | 3k | commissioned by @mericatblackwood

a post-TLO fic in which we finally Let Percy Cry

Annabeth doesn’t know what to do with anger—her own or others’. She can take her problems to the sword fighting arena or bury her nose in blueprints for weeks, but she’ll still come away with a tight jaw. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands when they aren’t clenched into fists.

So when the tendons in Percy’s hands strain around his silverware at dinner, when his eyes are downcast and he’s closed off in that I’m-angry-but-trying-desperately-not-to-look-it way, Annabeth can only fumble over a painfully casual attempt at conversation and watch as he retreats to his cabin. He doesn’t even make an appearance at the campfire. The flames have been low in the weeks following the Battle of Manhattan, but they’re rising tonight.

The problem isn’t reading Percy; it never has been. Annabeth knows what’s hurting him and why. It’s the fixing part she struggles with.

continue on AO3

He’s been angry for the better part of a year, often because of the ambiguous impending doom of his sixteenth birthday, but not exclusively so. Annabeth caused more than her fair share of his anger, she knows. Rachel had been there to provide an escape in her place, but Annabeth supposes part of being Percy’s girlfriend means that it’s her who gets to provide solace now. Not that she didn’t before, but. There’s a deeper commitment now. He was always her person—as she was his—but it’s out in the open. She’s the first line of defense—she wants to be the first line of defense from danger, be it physical or emotional.

So Annabeth dons her Yankees cap and sneaks to Cabin 3, replaying the conversation where Percy shrugged and said he’s fine when she tried to call him out. He isn’t fine. She knows that much.

That doesn’t mean she expects to find him curled in on himself, bedsheets tangled around his middle. It shouldn’t be possible to look small in a twin bed, but he looks so small—not at all like the hero the other campers celebrate over the campfire. It’s a stark reminder that he’s only sixteen.

He lifts his head when the door opens, his eyes wide. Annabeth remembers that she’s invisible and knocks her cap off her head. She’ll pick it up later. Right now Percy’s breath stutters at the sight of her, his eyes shining like open wounds.

Annabeth can do dry anger: the cold, unfeeling rage that motivates, propels, inspires. But wet anger—the paralyzing, painful kind you cannot power through—leaves her scrambling for purchase. Annabeth is a runner. She doesn’t sit in anything.

The sheets rustle as Percy closes his eyes and takes refuge in his bed like a dog hiding his wounded paw. Despite his efforts, he cannot disguise his limp.

“Please don’t hide from us,” Annabeth pleads.

“I’m not hiding from you,” he says mildly, not lifting his head from the pillow. “I can’t hide from you.”

“But you came here.”

“I knew you would come.” Percy shrugs, casually stating as fact something Annabeth didn’t know herself until a few minutes ago.

In this moment, Annabeth envies Percy’s connection with Grover. She would kill to have a way to funnel her emotions into Percy’s brain in a way he could understand. All the love and concern she can’t articulate could exist in the world without the struggle of finding the right words.

Still, Percy specified her. Grover is out there at the campfire, probably sensing Percy’s pain like a twinge at the base of his neck, but Annabeth is the one Percy can’t hide from.

The thought propels her to the edge of his bed, sitting in the curve of mattress his torso folds around. His knees press into her right thigh as he shifts to close the space between them. Annabeth realizes with a jolt that he left this space for her to occupy.

On her other side is his face, youthful and soft in the moonlight streaming through the window. Blue light for a blue boy, swimming in blue sheets that should shelter him instead of giving him something to fist his hands in. His arms cage his chest as if his heart is trying to escape it.

Annabeth reaches for his hand, drawing it to rest between hers. If his heart is a burden, it’s not one he has to bear alone. They held the weight of the sky once. They can handle this.

For all their shared burdens, the one that weighs on Percy now is uniquely his. Annabeth is a hero, but not the hero. Shouldering “child of Athena’s final stand” for a few weeks is not the same as “hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap” looming overhead for four years. Percy’s very existence has been dissected and politicized since the moment he was claimed, whereas Annabeth could’ve chosen a quieter, quest-free life if that’s what she wanted. She chose to pick it up. Percy’s choice was to stand under a weight that would otherwise crush him.

It occurs to Annabeth that everyone who has shouldered this burden before him is dead. The heroes whose birth was prophesied, whose death was prophesied, died fighting their battles centuries ago. There are no words for that.

Words are Percy’s strong suit, anyway. He has always known what to say to calm his friends down. Annabeth can’t recall the last time she saw someone do the same for him.

She squeezes his hand and focuses on being here, where it matters.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, knowing he doesn’t. Or rather, knowing he doesn’t want her to have to talk about it.

As expected, Percy burrows deeper into the bed. Half his face is squished in his pillow; the sole eye Annabeth can see fixes on the empty space in front of him. He gives her a noncommittal shrug she doesn’t buy. But at least he won’t lie outright.

Silence follows. It nips at Annabeth’s ankles, nagging her to move, to do something, but she decides to sit with the discomfort. The confession he’s suppressing is a palpable thing: Annabeth watches it stutter in his lungs and claw its way up his windpipe. Percy will tell her when he’s ready, and she’ll be here when he is.

“I’ve been having dreams,” he says, still not meeting Annabeth’s eye. That’s okay, though. He’s getting the words out. That’s what matters, right?

“What kind of dreams?”

Percy grimaces. “Not the useful kind. Nightmares, mostly. About the war.” He doesn’t breathe between the sentences, just grits his teeth.

“It’s over, Percy. The war is over. We can rest now,” she tries.

“They can’t.”

Dread settles over Annabeth, but she asks anyway. “Who can’t?”

“Beckendorf,” he chokes, his hand tightening in hers. “Silena, Castor, Lee, Michael—I killed him, Annabeth. I told the others where to go, and they died because of me, but I killed Michael.”

Annabeth opens her mouth to interrupt, but the names keep coming. Percy steamrolls through the tears, leaving her to watch his anger limp along until it collapses into the worn bed of sadness.

“Ethan shouldn’t have been on Olympus. I should’ve hit him harder, then he might have stayed down. And Zoe—I knew she was going to die. We found out who her dad was, and I knew and I couldn’t do anything. And Bianca wasn’t supposed to stop the automation. It was supposed to be me. She could’ve come home to Nico, and maybe then—”

“Percy…”

He shrinks with each word, looking every inch the child Annabeth found on Half-Blood Hill: bruised, tired, and crying for his mother. “My mom died because of me. I didn’t even save her—I saved the world, because that’s what I had to do. Hades let her go, but she still died.”

Annabeth gapes at him uselessly. To love Percy is to know intimately the amount of guilt and unearned blame he assigns himself, but that doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.

“You saved your mom,” she reminds him. “You saved her and the world. You shouldn’t have had to do either, but you did.”

“But I didn’t save the others.”

“No one could’ve.”

“I should’ve. When you fight the way I can, the people who die around you die because you can’t get to them fast enough. If I had just been faster, I...” He takes a shuddering breath. “Why do I get to survive when they don’t?”

A lifetime of war games and war alike, and that question is the worst thing Annabeth has ever heard. Percy is just laying there, still not meeting her eye, and she doesn’t know how to help him.

Terrified of how he’ll answer that question, Annabeth leans down to kiss him before he can. She tries to pour everything into it despite not having too much experience. Kissing Percy so far has been fun, sweet, and definitely trial and error. Nothing this desperate, this needy. She inhales him like she can steal the painful words from his lungs before he says them.

Annabeth tastes tears and pulls back, terrified that she’s done something wrong. Instead, Percy’s hand catches the back of her neck, keeping her close enough for their foreheads to touch. It’s there, inches away from his trembling lips, that Annabeth finds the words.

“You saved me,” she pants. “From the Furies on the bus, at the Lotus hotel, when Polyphemus knocked me out—” her fingers travel to his grey streak— “when we held up the sky, at Mount St. Helens, on Olympus… Too many times to count. From the first day we met, you gave me hope.” She strokes his cheek and wipes away the tears, feeling her own eyes well up. “Every day. You save me every day.”

Percy clings to her hand on his cheek and releases a deep breath, fully exhaling for the first time all night. “You save me just as often.”

“So let me do it now, yeah?”

Percy looks at her, green eyes wet and wide, and nods carefully. Annabeth sighs her relief against his forehead before pressing her lips there with an aching softness. There is more to say, but she takes a moment to just hold him. The Fates deemed her his anchor to mortality, so anchor him she will.

“You survived because you were saddled with the weight of the world at twelve years old and the gods owe you a fucking break.” She looks at the ceiling, almost daring thunder to rumble. The sky stays silent. “More campers are alive than dead after a war with impossible odds, Percy. You saved so many, but you can’t save everyone. None of them would want you to blame yourself for this. We have to honor their sacrifice—and, in some cases, their choice.”

That breaks him. The last of his anger gives way to painful sobs, the ugly kind that squeeze your lungs like a spasming fist. In this moment, he is not the wounded dog, but rather the limp itself: the awkward cadence of his breath reminiscent of limbs struggling to hold new weight.

“What do you need?” she asks. “What can I do?”

The mattress jostles as Percy scoots closer, freeing up part of the bed. “Could you stay here with me? Wake me up if it gets bad? If you have to go back to your cabin, that’s fine—”

He’s cut off by Annabeth kicking off her shoes and crawling into bed behind him. There isn’t much room on the twin mattress, but she tucks her knees into the backs of his and wraps around him, and they fit well enough. She settles quickly to avoid overthinking, glad for the excuse to be close to him.

This is entirely unfamiliar territory, as Annabeth discovers when she tries to figure out what to do with her hands. She’s never spooned someone before.

Percy senses her hesitation and laces their fingers, pulling her arm around his torso. Annabeth squeezes him tight, like maybe lining up their hearts will calm the frantic beat of his. Between that and her body protecting his Achilles spot, she’s got him.

It’s a little awkward, the silence that follows. They haven’t exactly had pillowtalk before, let alone while calming Percy during a breakdown. Annabeth doesn’t know how to hold him to make all that go away, so she clings to him as tight as she can.

“You’re like a boa constrictor,” he chuckles. It’s a wet, half-hearted laugh that tells Annabeth he still has more to say. He’s at his worst when he’s deflecting.

Still, she moves to loosen up. “Sorry.”

He tugs at her hand. “No! I mean, it’s nice. I feel… safe.” He pauses, his breath deep. “I always feel safe with you.”

Annabeth hasn’t kissed much of him apart from his lips, but she liked the comfort of kissing his forehead. She tightens her grip again and presses her lips to his shoulder, just because she can.

“Sometimes they’re about you,” Percy whispers.

Annabeth lays her cheek on his shoulder, trying to see his face. “What?”

“The nightmares. Sometimes they’re about losing you.”

“Percy, look at me.”

The tension falls from his spine as he flips around, tangling further in the mess of sheets. Annabeth smooths everything out for him before laying on her back and tugging him close. He ends up halfway on top of her: his arm around her waist, her hands in his hair, their legs a tangled mess.

She holds his face, thumbs swiping at his cheeks gently. He may be invulnerable, but he’s a fragile thing. Maybe even more so with the invulnerability.

“Tell me about them.”

“What? No. Annabeth, I’m not— I can’t talk about you d— about losing you. I can’t say those words.”

Annabeth just holds his face and his gaze. “You should. Talk about it here, safe, with me, and maybe it won’t be so bad when you fall asleep. I’ll be here the whole time.”

The tension in Percy’s body is palpable as he resists Annabeth’s coaxing. But slowly, she slips her hands to his scalp and massages him there, leeching the stress from his body as he sinks forward into her. His weight presses Annabeth into the mattress. It’s comforting, having him above her. She can feel every breath he takes, every time his heart beats in his chest.

“We’ve almost died a ton of times, but that was always together.” He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs against her collarbone. “But then on the bridge with Ethan, when you took the knife…”

Percy takes a shuddering breath.

“Sometimes we get you to the hotel and Will can’t help. Or I can’t find Will. Or Blackjack can’t grab you. Or—” his grip tightens around her, and his tears fall on her skin. “Sometimes you, you die right there at my feet. You jump a second earlier, and Ethan hits you in the chest, and I kill him for it. I kill everyone on the bridge. Most times it’s an accident, just the river listening to me, but sometimes… sometimes I don’t know. Both scare me.”

One of Annabeth’s hands moves to his Achilles spot of its own accord. Percy gasps into her neck, where some tears fall as well. He’d fought his way through his confession, coming from somewhere so deep inside him that the deluge of tears was unavoidable. She hopes to distract him from them now.

“You saved me on that bridge,” she reminds him, her free hand scratching lightly at the base of his neck.

“But what if I didn’t?” he breathes. He sounds so small.

“Doesn’t matter. You did. Anything else is a hypothetical.”

“But in the future—”

“Uh uh.” Annabeth’s chin taps Percy’s temple as she shakes her head. “It’s like strategy. You can think and think and think and plan your whole life out, but it’s not real. You never know what’s going to happen until your feet hit the floor. Are your feet on the floor?”

“No,” he grumbles.

“No,” she echoes. “You’re in bed. You get to rest now.”

Percy is still for countless heartbeats. Right when Annabeth thinks he might’ve fallen asleep, he props himself up on one elbow to look at her. Even in the lowlight, Annabeth can make out his puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

“You know you’re my best friend, right?” He sniffles, his nose wrinkling adorably as he does, and his eyes bore into Annabeth’s. “You’re my girlfriend too, but you’re my best friend first. Always.”

Annabeth hears that statement for what it is and grins despite the tears prickling in her own eyes. “And you’re mine. Always.”

A smile breaks out on his face like dawn at this late hour, brightening up the small space between them. Exhaustion sets in to close it, drawing Percy to settle back into Annabeth’s neck with the slow pull of gravity.

They drift off in a bed made to be slept in alone as they share a burden made for one person. Newness tinges the corners of this memory, this moment Annabeth finds herself missing before it’s gone: Percy asleep above her, finally getting the peaceful rest he deserves. Part of Annabeth wants to stay up all night to make sure he gets the most of it, to watch his back as she promised to do, but her eyelids are heavy with sleep in no time.

What sticks with Annabeth is this: Percy’s breath slow and steady against her neck, his heartbeat reliable as ever as it syncs with her own. The world is warm and safe despite all the evidence to the contrary, and that’s what makes this moment untouchable. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, here they are. Together in every way that matters.

#i hurt myself writing this i am not going to lie #if u read this on tumblr all i ask is u give it some love on ao3 bc engagement with tumblr is Trash but i try to keep commissions accessible #commissions #my percabeth #my fic #mericatblackwood

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supernaturaldesires · 3 years

Text

Dirty Little Secret - Chapter Four

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Warnings: hostage, bondage, fingering, penetration, oral, slight anal play, degradation, non-con/dub-con

Word Count: 1,964

You awoke shivering at dawn, the sunlight seeping through the little window and creating a streak through the dark room. Tears stung at your eyes as you wondered how many more mornings you would wake like this, how many more nights you would fall asleep feeling so alone and afraid. You tried to find the silver lining that at least he let you sleep without handcuffs this time. He was extremely careful to keep the door locked unless he was entering or exiting, and you knew it was pointless to attempt to escape in those moments. The door was not left open long enough and he would surely catch you and make sure you paid the price.

Last night, Dean presented you with a stack of new clothes - if they really counted as clothes. Aside from a couple of pairs of pyjamas, the rest was all lingerie or some skimpy little dress, clearly with the intent of his pleasure rather than your comfort. Your eyes glanced to the floor where you had left your jeans and t-shirt before changing into pyjamas last night - but your clothes were gone. He must have come in while you were asleep and taken them, leaving you with nothing but his hand-picked selection.

For a long while, you hugged yourself and rocked back-and-forth, staring at the pile of slutty clothing before admitting defeat. You selected the one item that would cover the most flesh - a lacy black dress that barely covered your tits and ass. Dean had made it abundantly clear that by the time he came to your room in the mornings, he expected you to be out of your pyjamas and into something “more pleasing”, as he’d described it. You weren’t in the slightest tempted to see the punishment if you failed to obey another order.

Whirrr. The door swung open and Dean stood in the frame with a plate in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. He wore only a pair of jogging bottoms, his chiselled chest exposed. If he wasn’t a total fucking creep, you would actually find him attractive. He looked genuinely pleased to see you in the chosen outfit. Dean kicked the door shut behind him.

“See, sweetheart? Isn’t it so much easier if you just do as you’re told?” You nodded, keeping your eyes on the ground. You watched as his feet approached you and took the glass of juice that he held out to you. You welcomed the fresh liquid, gulping it down quickly. He handed you the plate next, which revealed to hold two slices of buttered toast and a banana. You quickly inhaled the toast. The second you brought the banana to your lips, the predatory look on his face made you increasingly uncomfortable and you drew it back to your lap.

“Eat your fruit now, Y/N,” he said sternly, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

“I am full, thank you, Sir,” you said quietly, already starting to cower away.

“It wasn’t a fucking question, whore,” he snapped, taking a threatening step towards you. You quickly started to eat the banana, at which point he eased off. His tongue darted out over his lips, not taking his eyes off you as you ate the whole thing. “There’s a good girl.” At the praise, you hated yourself for the split-second of tingling you felt in your core. “Stand up, let me see this pretty little body in that sexy dress.”

You rose to your feet, not daring to look in his eyes as he circled you like his prey. He reached out and roughly grabbed your tits, squeezing and kneading them. He turned you slightly so that he was facing you side-on and ran one hand down to your ass, cupping it tightly. You held your breath for a moment, terrified he would approach your asshole again, but to your relief he turned you back to face him head-on. Instead, his hand on your tit moved up to firmly wrap around your throat, though he didn’t quite squeeze. His other hand trailed from your ass to your exposed pussy, tugging at your clit between his thumb and forefinger, making you whimper. He chuckled darkly. “You’re going to be making all sorts of noises for me, sweet one,” he whispered, tilting your head up to force you to look him in the eye. “I’ll be nice and let you choose - which hole shall I take first?”

You were startled by the question, suddenly panicking. You didn’t want him touching any part of you. What was the least risky? You didn’t trust him to use protection, and you had never done anal before - the thought terrified you.

“Tick tock, sweetheart, don’t make me lose my patience,” he said sternly.

“My mouth,” you said quickly. The demon narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on your throat.

“Where are your manners, slut?”

“My mouth, please,” you rasped. “Sir.” His hand released you as oxygen flooded back into your lungs. Without needing much prompting, you quickly fell to your knees, freed his half-erect cock from his joggers and took him in your mouth. You hoped that if you could pleasure him this way, this would be the worst of it. But he clearly clocked on to what you were doing and pulled your hair, slowing you down.

“Now, now, kitten. You’re not rushing my playtime, are you?” You tried to shake your head while continuing to slowly bob your head on his cock. He released the grip on your hair and instead cupped the back of your head, guiding you at a gentle pace. Once he was fully hard, he pushed you off his cock. “On the bed, on your hands and knees, facing the head of the bed.” You quickly obliged, and once you were in position the next instruction followed: “Don’t move.”

You heard him collecting your breakfast and the whirr of the door as he left the room. For a second you almost dared to turn your head, to judge whether you were presented with an escape, but you were glad you didn’t because you heard him return within seconds and the door shut securely behind him. You heard his footsteps approach until he was right behind you and your face flushed at the exposing position he was watching you in.

Suddenly, he slipped something over your face, plunging your eyes into darkness. You barely had a moment to react before he had your wrists gripped in one hand and you felt rope binding them together. Panic set in you and you began to struggle and fight back. “Please Dean, don’t!” Whack! Stinging flooded your backside as his palm collided with your flesh. You continued to buck and wrestle, but by this point your hands were already bound together. You felt him lifting you up the bed and realised he was tying your hands to the metal poles of the headboard.

“Oh sweetheart, we were doing so well.” His voice was soft, but there was a clear edge to it. You felt his rough hands run over the curve of your ass, and you desperately wiggled and tried to kick him away. A large hand grabbed one leg and you felt rope being wrapped around your knee before being secured to the side of the bed. Moments later, he repeated the same with your other leg so that you were presented on the bed with your ass in the air like some fucking prize pig.

For a long while, nothing happened. You heard nothing, he didn’t touch you. The tenseness in your body almost started to ease before a sharp spank was delivered to your left butt-cheek, causing you to cry out. It was quickly followed by another of equal force to the right cheek. The assault continued on your ass until you were in tears. “I’m sorry, Sir, I’m sorry, please!”

You felt his breath on your neck. “Sweetheart, if you would just get with the programme here, I can make this pleasurable for you too. But you make it really fucking hard when you act like a little brat.” He suckled at your earlobe, making you squirm. Suddenly, you felt his finger probing at your entrance. “Now then, I’m not going to enter you until you ask me to. I’m sure you realise that you won’t get out of your current position until you do, but I’d very much like to hear it from those pretty lips.”

You felt his tongue at your neck before he licked a long stripe along your shoulder-blade, down your back, right up to your ass crack. You felt him nestle behind you, spreading your ass-cheeks apart, otherwise not touching you and just admiring the view. “You’ve not had anyone in here before, have you, my sweet? Lucky me...”

“Please,” you interrupted urgently, desperate to divert his attention. “Please fuck my pussy, Sir.”

Another dark laugh fell from his lips. “Attagirl,” he crooned, “Let’s get you warmed up a little, hm?” You felt his lips close around your nub and he began to suckle, ripping a groan from you. “That’s it, my dirty girl,” he smiled as he flicked his tongue across your slit, making your body writhe. Suddenly, two thick digits pushed inside of you, forcing a scream from you as he pumped into you ruthlessly. “If you are going to cum, you must tell me and I’ll let you know if you have permission.” Oh god. It made you sick to your stomach, but you could feel the pleasure stirring within you. Just as you felt an orgasm starting to build, he ripped his fingers out of you, and before you could stop yourself a pathetic moan escaped you. The demon barked a sharp laugh before gripping your waist tightly and penetrating your soaking pussy, fucking you at a maddening pace.

He gripped your hair and pulled your head back as screams erupted from you. “Sir, I’m going to cum!” He continued to lash into you at full force. “Hold it,” he shouted sternly. “Don’t you fucking dare cum until I say so!” He carried on relentlessly and you began to shake and spasm from the pleasure.

“Please, Sir, I can’t hold it!” Suddenly your hair was released, causing your head to sag for a moment until two strong hands grabbed your shoulders, pulling them back. “Go on, you little whore, cover my cock with your juices.”

At the peak of pain, the pleasure exploded and you saw white. Dean rocked you through your orgasm, not easing up in the slightest. As you came down from your high, you realised the shame of what had just happened. You silently begged that he would cum soon and it would end - but a sadistic part of you wanted to keep going.

You were suddenly caught off-guard when you felt an intruding finger probing at your asshole. “No, wait!”

“Don’t worry, my precious one, I’m saving that gem for another day. Doesn’t mean I can’t tease you with it, though.” The demon pushed the tip of his finger into your ass, causing you to clench around him. He groaned loudly and you finally felt your womb filled with his hot liquid. He stayed inside of you for a few moments, panting, as you felt him gradually go limp inside you.

In those next moments, as he started to untie you, your head swam with what you had just experienced. You had never orgasmed like that before. It didn’t change your feelings at all about the situation - it didn’t make you loathe him any less. But a masochistic part of you was relieved that there was some pleasurable element to this otherwise hell...

<= Chapter Three

Chapter Five =>

#dean winchester #demon!dean #demon dean winchester #demon!dean x reader #demon!dean fanfiction #demon!dean smut #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfic #dirty little secret #dean x reader #demon!dean x you #dean x you

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megalony · 4 years

Text

Suffocate

This is my first Spock x reader imagine, I hope you all like it, feedback is appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me

Masterlist

Enjoy.

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Reaching his hand out Spock pressed the button on top of the clock to his left effectively switching off the alarm, sighing as he opened his eyes to the realisation that both he and (Y/n) needed to get up for their jobs. Spock enjoyed his work and role as commander, it allowed him to use his abilities and knowledge and work was something he enjoyed. But the shifts were something that took everyone time to get used to. They were all now on a five-year mission in space and it meant hours were stretched on certain days due to many reasons, although they did thankfully get days where shifts were short.

Spock and (Y/n) weren't long married before they both joined for the long mission. Tonight had been the first night in a while where they were both back to sleeping at the same time, due to their irregular shift patterns. The pair were always around one another at some point in the day, (Y/n) being a lieutenant meant they were normally always on the bridge together, but their shifts weren't always the same.

Spock worked long hours and the past two weeks had left him sleeping during the afternoon to the evening then working through the night into the morning. Going on missions also added to how warped their sleeping patterns were becoming. Right now (Y/n) was just getting onto the same kind of hours Spock was working which allowed them to be back to their shared quarters at roughly the same time last night.

Turning his head Spock looked down at (Y/n) who had her head resting on his chest with her arm draped over his torso. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, moving slightly so he could sit up as she opened her eyes. A groan passed her lips and she hugged him tighter when she noticed that it was time to get up. All (Y/n) wanted to do was make this moment drag out for a bit longer so she could get some more sleep and spend more time with her husband.

It didn't take Spock all that long to get dressed and ready for the day ahead, but when he came out of the adjoining bathroom to see if (Y/n) was ready to go, his head ticked to the side when he looked at her. (Y/n) was still sat on the bed but she had her hand pressed against her right side with her expression showing she was clearly in some kind of discomfort. Spock wasn't that good at expressing his emotions or feelings but he was very good at reading them and interpreting the feelings of others.

Making his way over to the bed, Spock bent down on his knees in front of her causing her head to tip down to look at him.

"Is your side still hurting you T'hy'la?" He questioned, concern showing in his eyes even if his voice was the usual monotone.

They had been on a short mission a few days ago and (Y/n) had got into a scuffle with a few of the beings down on the planet. It wasn't uncommon, a lot of missions ended up with disagreements or fights or arguments and fighting was a way to get out of tricky situations. Starfleet never started the fights but they could certainly finish them.

(Y/n) had ended up bruising her right side rather badly and it was causing discomfort, especially when sleeping. But (Y/n) didn't like to say that it was hurting or causing as much pain as it was because it made her feel like she was nagging or weak and she was needed in her department, she couldn't have any time off right now. Telling Spock that the pain was bad would make him worry and he would certainly tell her to take time off.

"Hurts a little, I'll be alright." She responded but she bit down on her lip when she could clearly see that Spock had ignored her words.

He swiftly rose to his feet and held his hands out to (Y/n), easily pulling her to her feet before he lifted the hem of her dress so he could see her side. His brows narrowed just the slightest bit when (Y/n) rose hers and smirked seeing that he was trying to ignore that she was in her underwear now that he had almost pulled off her dress.

Moving his hand, Spock lightly traced his index finger over the bruises he didn't like the look of with how dark they were in colour and the extent of them painting (Y/n)'s upper chest. When he added slight pressure to (Y/n)'s ribs he felt her inhaling sharply, noticing how she shifted her weight around a little but she didn't make a sound, clearly trying to act indifferent when she knew she didn't have to around Spock. He couldn't feel any breaks in her ribs and there were no signs of anything internally wrong which made Spock feel relieved even if the bruises were causing a lot of pain for (Y/n).

"I think it best that you take a trip to see doctor McCoy, just to be sure."

"I'm okay, I'm not bothering Bones with this." (Y/n) forced a smile as she smoothed her hands over her dress when Spock let go of the hem and let it fall back around her thighs. Leaning forward, (Y/n) pressed her head into Spock's chest, relaxing her muscles when she felt his arms wrapping around her firmly but still cautiously. Spock knew going to medbay wasn't something (Y/n) enjoyed, she hated having to go and only went if it was necessary but they both knew that if the pain got any worse Spock wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Alright, let us go or we shall be late." He sighed when he caught sight of the time. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead before pulling back and taking her hand, both of them heading out of the room to head to the bridge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Everyone alright?" Jim questioned, casting his eyes around the bridge to check that no one had gained any injuries during that little episode. They had had to divert when some debris came into their path, causing the Enterprise to turn on her side and almost flip upside down to avoid getting hit. They didn't want any damage right now when they were limited on equipment to fix any major damage and they weren't far into their five-year mission.

A mutter of responses came flooding back to Jim telling him his crew on the bridge were alright and Checkov and Sulu were checking the rest of the ship, seeing no major injuries to anyone and no damage to the ship either.

"(Y/n), are you okay?" Uhura asked when she noticed her friend pressing her hand rather harshly to her right side. She was breathing through clenched teeth and tensing her muscles in a way that made Uhura wonder if (Y/n) was about to be sick.

(Y/n) felt like her nerves were on fire as her chest started to shake from her uneven breaths. Scraping her chair against the polished floor, (Y/n) leaned forward in her seat to try and relieve the uneasy feeling that was beginning to wash over her. The urge to throw up was becoming more prominent until (Y/n) had to place her hand over her mouth to stop herself from gagging, but it only ended up in a small coughing fit to proceed.

Uhura bit down on her lower lip, trying to stay calm when she noticed a small streak of blood trailing down (Y/n)'s chin from her lips.

"Spock." There was uncertainty in Uhura's worried voice as she couldn't dare divert her eyes from (Y/n) to try and look for the commander who needed to come over and help.

The moment Spock spared a glance over at Uhura he could see something wasn't right with her and his wife which caused him to put down the padd in his hands and make his way over to them. When he reached the pair, he bent down on his knees in front of (Y/n), resting his hands on her thighs as he waited calmly for her to look down at him. He could see tears in (Y/n)'s eyes as she moved both of her hands to press them tightly to her chest which was igniting like it was on fire, burning from the inside out. The burning pain was making it a lot harder for (Y/n) to find a proper breath.

"It hurts." She gasped, darting her eyes down to her chest to show where the pain was as Spock nodded in understanding. Reaching up, he delicately brushed his thumb over her cheek before smudging the blood away with the pad of his thumb. Desperately wanting to keep her calm because panicking would only make her feel worse and make the breathlessness a bigger problem.

"Alright T'hy'la, just look at me." Spock stated, a gentleness to his tone that was unusual as he moved one hand and pressed it to her neck to feel her pulse. As he silently counted the beats, he noticed that her pulse was weaker and the beats were inconsistent but he could feel her throat muscles beneath his fingers which were tense and strained. The skin of her neck was sinking inwards showing that her breathing was the problem.

A gasp left Uhura's lips which she quickly smothered with her hands in shock when (Y/n) turned her head downwards to face her lap before she suddenly coughed up a lot of blood that came out like water from a tap. Spock paled significantly when (Y/n)'s startled yet frightened eyes locked with his as she leaned over, coughing blood onto the floor between them.

The moment murmurs and panicked whispers hit Jim's ears, he spun the chair around to find the problem in the bridge but he didn't understand what he was faced with when the scene looked like a mess.

"Get her to medbay, I'll alert Bones." Jim's tone was sharp and hid the fact that he had no clue what was happening. All he knew was (Y/n) clearly needed medical help before her state deteriorated and got any worse than it already was. Bones was the best medical professional on board, he would be able to find the problem and sort it out quickly.

Spock pushed himself from his knees to his feet and wrapped his arms around (Y/n) to help stand her up. He kept her tucked into his side and tried hard not to run or drag (Y/n) too much because he didn't want to hurt her or cause her any more pain. But as they headed to the elevator Spock realised he was dragging (Y/n) more and more when she seemed to grow weaker.

(Y/n) dug her nails into Spock's shirt that she was clinging to in order to try and keep herself from collapsing to the floor like a used tissue. Her head was pressing almost painfully into his chest to try and block the fear rattling around in her head and to try and help her breathe better but it wasn't working.

The uneasiness and fear beginning to ignite in Spock magnified when (Y/n)'s weight fell onto him and her head tipped back allowing him to see her eyes rolling into the back of her head. He tightened his arms around her and bent his knees a little so he could lean over and hold her better. He shifted her around until he was able to pick her up bridal style just as the doors opened, allowing him to briskly walk into the medbay.

"My God what happened?" Bones asked in confusion when he saw (Y/n)'s front and Spock's shirt were drenched in blood that was coating her chin and lips as well.

Spock followed Bones over to a free bed and ever so gently laid (Y/n) down onto the bed, watching with worried eyes as Bones placed an oxygen mask over (Y/n)'s nose and lips. But the mask wasn't doing anything as she continued to choke and splutter blood from her lips, causing specks of red to plaster against the inside of the clear mask.

"I do not know, she has bruises to her side which have been causing her pain, but after the turbulence she began to throw up blood. I suspect a blood vessel has ruptured." Spock informed, worry now present on his features and in his tone as he gripped (Y/n)'s hand, watching Bones move a tricorder over her body, scanning her chest to find the problem.

"She has one broken rib and two fractured ones. It's broken at an odd angle and punctured her lung, the turbulence must have created a hemorrhage, her lungs are filling with blood. I need help here!" He stated before ordering for a nurse to assist him.

He turned (Y/n) so she was laying on her side as she trembled, her chest pushing outwards and inwards at an odd rate. But as soon as Bones removed the oxygen mask from her lips, a vast amount of blood spluttered from her lips like a sprinkler which was followed by a short, gasping breath.

The nurse who seemingly appeared out of nowhere handed Bones a tube as Spock held onto (Y/n)'s waist and shoulder to try and keep her still, knowing that whilst she was moving it was going to be a lot harder. When the nurse held open her mouth Bones placed the tube down her throat causing the blood to coat the tube and her lips again as she choked.

A sense of uneasiness rattled through Spock as he watched the blood travel through the rube and into a bowl the nurse was holding. The haemorrhage was clearly ongoing but if they left the blood to build up in her lung then she was going to suffocate and forcing oxygen into her lungs wasn't going to work when they were overflowing with blood. Bones moved the tube to the next lung to clear it out as (Y/n) visibly stilled, looking calmer now that she was able to breathe.

"Get me an OR set up." Bones ordered, needing to stop the haemorrhage or her lungs would flood up again and suffocate her from the inside out.

"You will be okay T'hy'la."

#star trek #commander spock #spock #spock x reader #spock imagine #leonard mccoy #jim kirk

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gustafsnightangel · 3 years

Text

Shattered Lives Ch 28 Pt 1

She woke sprawled out over him, her head on his chest, legs straddling his thigh. Her man was dead to the world, his arm around her, the other above his head, the leg she wasn’t currently occupying bent at a ninety degree angle, the covers tangled around them. She shifted carefully to rest her head on her elbow to watch him sleep, he didn’t so much as twitch.

“Sweet man.” She murmured softly, her fingers caressing his scalp tenderly. He was exhausted, emotionally done, the past few days had drained him. “I’m so in love with you.” She murmured laying there as the sunrise streaked the sky above the bed with pinks and peaches content to watch him sleep. She smiled at the gentle rise and fall of that massive chest, his giant frame resting at peace, a small measure of peace he’d fought hard to obtain.

Her thoughts drifted to their future, a life together raising four kids, what she’d asked from him last night. She felt lighter this morning, the relief he’d given her by saying he’d help. That soul crushing weight that had been pressing on her for over a year wasn’t completely gone, but it had become manageable. She knew she could trust him to help her, to support her and the kids when they needed it. Part of her still carried the guilt for even having to admit she’d needed help, she was an adult and supposed to be able to handle this. She chewed on it, how would they divide up their time, their lives, it was a learning curve for both of them and she was worried it would eventually be too much for him. How long before he grew tired of it and walked away? She banished that thought, it was a mindset she didn’t want to get into, an idea she definitely didn’t want to entertain.

She wasn’t ready for her birthday, mentally or emotionally. Looking at Gustaf’s sleeping form she felt her heart sink, she knew he’d organized something with the kids but in all honestly she didn’t want it. Didn’t want the fanfare, the attention, the happy smiles and well wishes, because she felt anything but happy. It wasn’t just losing her sibling, it was losing her twin, and nobody understood how that felt. No one could fully grasp the twin connection and the bond that runs deeper than DNA. She missed it, that connection they had even when they were miles apart. It was like Quinn had taken part of her soul with him when he left. This wide chasm of nothing, would it ever be whole again, she wondered? Would she ever be whole again, heal from it?

Her thoughts started snowballing from there, she had Christmas to get through. They had a Christmas tree to put up, to decorate, and meeting his family seemed so overwhelming. Her hand stilled as he shifted, his arm tightening around her making her smile.

“Stopthinking.” He slurred, his head turning enough to kiss her head and snuffle against hair. Her light chuckle causing him to crack an eye open and frown. “Whassofunny?” He mumbled.

“You are.” She stretched up to kiss him, erotically sinful and scrambling his sleep addled brain before it had even had the chance to comprehend it was morning, that he was awake, and that he had a naked woman in his bed. “You’re adorable when you just wake up.”

“Adorable?” His huff told her he wasn’t happy about that sentiment and giggled. “Imnotadorable.” He mumbled into the pillow.

“Oh but you are love.” She said, humor thick in her voice. Her hand cupped his cheek and she gently coaxed him out from face planting in the pillow to kiss him. “Adorable and sweet.” She teased, grinning at his huff as he chastely kissed her and buried his reddening face in the pillow again. “My sweet adorable handsome man.” He glared at her with one eye and she couldn’t contain the grin, she was enjoying this, so was he.

“Only to you love.” He said sarcastically and pulled her in tightly kissing those lips he craved every waking moment. “You romantic sap.” He grinned.

“I am for you. I’m not very good at it but I ...” His mouth claimed hers slowly, that lingering kiss that spoke of so much love. “Illegal.” She sighed out all dreamy.

“Mmm. Still gonna do it.” He breathed and kissed her again. He snuggled her in and melted into the mattress, pinning her to it. It was the perfect morning, one he wanted to lay there and savor. He’d told her he loved her, an accomplishment considering the emotional shit he’d been through. “Go back to sleep.” He murmured half drifting. “No more thinking.”

“You’re still adorable.” She muttered and smiled at his dramatic sigh.

“You divulge that to another living soul and there will be repercussions.” He said quietly into the pillow, his tone a cross between deadly serious and playful.

“Mmmm.” She nibbled her bottom lip and waited for his eyes to snap to hers, her grin playful.

“That’s a dangerous game to play love.” He growled, his thumb freeing her poor tormented lip. “Especially after last night.” He gripped her chin and brought her lips to his slowly before kissing her in much the same fashion. “I love the taste of you.” He murmured, dropping lazy kisses over her jaw and down her throat. She crumpled, he had that effect on her, his touch, his kiss, turned her all gooey.

That clever mouth teased hers, those eyes of ocean blue seductively drawing her under his spell. A sly smirk touched his lips as he cupped a breast gently and lowered his mouth to her nipple sucking it in his hot mouth. His hand raked the sheet from her body, the slow descent of it eliciting sweet moans from her mouth as he touched her.

Settling between her thighs he rested them over his shoulders and took her apart with agonizing patients. He feasted, tongue tasting, fingers gently caressing, taking his time to gradually pull her release from deep within her. Keeping her teetering on the edge he stroked a finger over her entrance, alternating it with his tongue. He’d lost himself to the beautiful task at hand, his woman in delirious ecstasy at his touch.

He hummed his approval as he slipped two digits inside her slowly and she arched off the bed, a soft cry from her lips. As he unraveled her he felt those slender fingers search for his, the need to feel him, connect with him. He entwined his fingers with hers as her other hand dove between her legs to caress his scalp urging him to take more. He sent her over the edge, hips grinding against his face as she bucked and writhed, that beautiful cry of his name as she came.

He kissed his way up her body as she caught her breath, chest heaving. Looking down into those soulful eyes he slipped inside her. Cupping his face in her hands she kissed him as his slow deep thrust buried him to his hilt. She kept him there as he started to move, the closeness, the tender gasps between them falling from their lips.

With her deliciously pinned under him he plunged. Each thrust he bottomed out, the erotic feeling of filling her so completely making him groan in pleasure. He held her against him tightly, their bodies moving as one, the closeness heightening their arousal.

“Sildie.” He breathed as her lips took his, the deep kiss making him groan and thrust harder. She whimpered as his pace quickened, both close and desperate for release.

Her kiss took him under as she came, that delightful cry into his mouth, her body thrashing under him. He devoured her lips as her pussy gripped him like a velvet vice, hips pistoning. A groan filled her ears as he came, the pulse of his cock filling her with his seed. Kissing her hard he prolonged their pleasure, each thrust deep causing her to tremble against him.

“God Sildie.” He breathed and kissed her tenderly as their chests heaved to force air into their lungs. “You’re so beautiful.” His eyes locked onto hers and she saw the love in them. “I love waking up with you.” Her light laugh and smile lit up his world. He loved seeing her this relaxed. That smile just for him. He kissed her fiercely. “I’m so in love with you.” His voice thick with emotion.

“My sweet man.” She smiled kissing him slowly, lingering to let her emotions calm down or he’d have her in tears. “I love you too.”

He rolled taking her with him and snuggled her in, his fingers raking through her hair softly. “So, what shall we do today?”

“You mean apart from fucking each other senseless?” She giggled.

“I’m game if you are.” He chuckled and kissed her as she stretched up to look at him.

“I’d like to to that walk you talked about Friday. Maybe soak in the hot tub after?” Her finger trailed his jaw. With all the emotional upheaval he’d gone through the past few days it was good to see him relaxed. His guard was down, those walls that kept the world at arms length demolished.

“I like the sound of that.” He kissed her tenderly. “Go for a walk in the cold.” His kiss deepened. “Then I can warm you up in the hot tub.” He growled, nipping her bottom lip playfully.

“Breakfast first though, I’m hungry.” She kissed him sweetly and went to rise, his arms caging her to him. “And I’ll get it. Don’t argue.” She said sternly pointing a finger at him. “I want to make you breakfast in bed.” He loosened his grip, he wasn’t going to fight her on it. He had to compromise. They still had a lot to work out and he’d bend for her just as she was bending for him.

“Ok.” He shrugged. Her smile was everything as she scrambled out of bed, pulled her robe on hastily and walked to the kitchen, his light chuckle in her wake.

He watched the clouds drift overhead, his mind at ease and energized. His thoughts drifted to their lives together. They were still in the early stages of their relationship but he felt they were on the right course. Slow and steady, she had a ton of grief to get through, so did the kids. He wasn’t out of the woods with Ana yet either but his mental state was better than it had been in months.

His ultimate plan was getting her through her birthday and Christmas, and have her moved in with him by the time he left for his next shoot. A plan he hoped wouldn’t spiral her anxiety out of control. The thought of twelve weeks away from her made him anxious, and he banished it from his mind for now. They’d get through it together, and probably better than the six week separation they’d endured a month or so ago. It would be difficult for all of them. At least he’d lanced Ana out of his life, out on of his soul. Sildie hadn’t given up on him, she’d fought for him, along side him. That healed a part inside of him that had long been broken.

His smile split across his face as he heard her in the kitchen, the soft jazz drifting through the cabin and the sound of her humming along. He got up to use the bathroom and stopped at the doorway to watch her, dancing around cooking, not a care in the world. He silently grabbed his phone, stood behind the wall so if she turned she wouldn’t see him, and hit the record button. He got a good ten minutes of that carefree woman before his bladder gave him the ultimatum, pee or die in a world of pain. That video would keep him sane when he was away, just being able to hear and see her happy, a rare grief free moment.

Pulling on his sweats he stoked the fire in the bedroom and sat on the window seat with the chunky throw draped over his lap. It was a sunny day out, the puffs of white clouds making their way lazily across the sky. He thought about asking her to move in with him, her hesitation at leaving her apartment. He could see the logic in it, more space, everyone under one roof, but he knew she’d see it as a hit to her independence. A blow to her pride of being the provider for the kids, he’d have to work on that before Wednesday or she’d turn him down flat.

She’d worked hard for that apartment, everything she’d provided for the kids and he didn’t want to tarnish that. He couldn’t ask for a quick answer, he knew her well enough now that she liked to chew things over. Give it time, he thought honestly, you can’t rush her with something so life changing.

His thoughts slipped to her birthday. There would be grief not just from Sildie but from the kids too. It was going to be a rough day and he hoped he hadn’t made it harder with his gift to her. His mind wandered, chewing and spitting things out as he sat and stared out the window.

She texted the kids while the pancakes were cooking, sent a few photos of the stunning view. Alice sent one back of the kids around the table eating breakfast, lots of smiles and silly faces. Brendan had so much to tell her when she got back and told her not to worry about them they were having a blast. Uncle Bill would be over again today and was prepared for retaliation from his ass whooping yesterday. A tear slipped free, Gustaf would never fully understand what he’d given the teen by taking on Brendan’s burden. He’d set the kid free and she loved him more for it. She was still feeling guilty for dumping all that on the kids shoulders to begin with, but in all honesty she hadn’t realized she’d been leaning on him so much.

She headed into the room with the tray and smiled. Her heart melted at the sight of him. That massive lanky body folded up on the window seat, lost in thought, relaxed, bare chest just waiting for her to snuggle into. Sitting the tray on the bed she discreetly snapped a few photos, he looked so peaceful she wanted to preserve the moment, to have something to remember when he was away for long periods of time.

Placing the tray on the window seat she stroked her knuckles down his scruff, his sharp inhale telling her he was miles away in his own head. “No more thinking love.” She said gently and smiled, his chuckle sheepish as she’d caught him doing the one thing he’d told her not to do this weekend. Those eyes, she thought as she gazed into them, she drowned in them every time.

His hands travelled up the back of her legs and under her robe as he pulled her closer, his mouth capturing hers in a tender kiss. “Sorry.” He mumbled, her fingers stroking his scruff. “I was far away.”

“Yes you were. Happy thoughts?”

“Mostly.” He smiled and kissed her sweetly, squeezing her ass. “Thank you.” He said kissing her tenderly. “For not giving up on me.” He murmured and he couldn’t keep his eyes from brimming with tears.

Her heart broke at his words. “Sweet man, I’ll never give up on you.” Her tone soft as her hands cupped his face. She brushed away the tears that fell silently and kissed him, soft, loving. “I love you.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, the residual emotions from last night still swimming in his head. Holding him to her she stroked a hand along his shoulders and down his spine, anything to soothe, to heal.

“Fuck I’m sorry.” He said huffing a chuckle. “Apparently I’m still a fucking mess.” She tilted his head back and his eyes met hers.

“Mess or not I still love you.” Her kiss was tender. “It’ll take time, you’re healing too.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded.

“God we’re a pair aren’t we?” He said trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m proud of you.” She said gently, her thumb grazing the crows feet she adored. “You’ve worked so hard to get past her, to deal with what she was, what she did. You’re allowed to be a mess over it love.”

“I love you.” He choked. “So much.” He kissed her between tears, between sobs that threatened to undo him all over again.

She cradled his head to her chest and soothed as he wept, the sobs although gut wrenching, not as destructive as last night. He would heal, just like her he would heal, slowly and with as much love as she could give him.

“This looks really good.” He said pulling away and forcing his emotions back down, wanting to change the subject of what was on his mind as he looked at the stacks of pancakes and fresh fruit piled high on plates. He turned her slightly and pulled her into his lap, lips teasing a spot at her throat, her scent calming the tensing edges of raw emotion.

She kissed him sweetly, eyes searching to see if he was ok. She’d let him shut it down, they would deal with the fallout again another time, it was inevitable. “Eat.” She said softly and poured the tea as he rested a plate of pancakes on his knee and rolled the fruit into it like a burrito. Her giggle made him smile. “That’s one way to eat them.”

“My other hand is currently occupied.” He murmured as that hand slipped into her robe to gently palm a breast. He dipped his fruit pancake into the maple syrup and ate, his hum of approval making her smile. “Almost as sweet as you.” He said softly, his fingers stroking a nipple. “You’re still my favorite dessert.” He growled and gently bit down on the pulse at her neck causing a delightful shiver to run over her body.

They both ate, the meal also consisting of soft nibbles and tender kisses to sensitive skin. She turned her head to face him, those slender fingers caressing his chin. Leaning in slowly she kissed him, one of those ones that was nothing short of earth shattering for him. “You missed a bit.” She murmured, her tone sultry as her thumb wiped the syrup from his scruff.

He caught her by the wrist as she went to pull her hand away and sucked her thumb into his mouth without his eyes leaving hers. Her breath quickened as his tongue swirled over her thumb and the hint of maple syrup that coated it. The action was so erotic she could feel her pussy clench and throb for him.

He released her thumb, the slow action of him taking it out of his mouth making her a wet, quivering mess. “That’s mine.” He purred, gripping her chin gently. His kiss was electric, the sudden overwhelming need for him to fuck her surged up. “Finish your tea.” He breathed as he ghosted her lips, the knowing smirk tugging at his. He knew exactly what this did to her, the trembling mess in his lap confirmed it.

“I’m finished.” She managed to say as those lips continued to tease her. How could he make her come apart like this, she wondered?

He looked down at the half empty cup and grinned against her jaw. “You still have some left.” He murmured, his soft hum of contentment causing her to wilt into him as he found that one spot below her ear and sucked on it gently. His low chuckle made her blush. “Sit up and drink your tea. I haven’t teased you enough yet.” That tone made her pussy gush.

“I can’t function when you touch me like that.” She mumbled, shocked she could actually string words together to form a coherent sentence.

“I know.” He growled and savaged her mouth, the kiss rendering all thought in her head to cease. “Finish your tea.”

He watched her hand pick up the cup, the slight tremble of arousal still thrumming through her making it shake. Waiting for her to finish and set the cup down his finger circled her nipple, the torturous digit making her quiver. He sipped from his own cup as his thumb and finger pinched her hardened bud gently. With a soft gasp she leaned back into him.

“I have a need for you before we go for a walk.” His tone that low gravely growl she loved.

There was no rush to take her, he liked building her up to the point of madness. He sat there, hands endlessly moving, fingers erotically enticing. The way she came alive at his touch was enough to arouse him into a frenzy, those delicate sighs and moans tumbling from her lips in a beautiful symphony.

His touch whipped her body into a fever of need, she couldn’t have him touch her enough. Turning in his arms she kissed him, hot and hungry lips devouring his. She tugged at his sweats releasing his erection, his groan into her mouth as she palmed him making her smirk. She’d turned the tables on him as her hands cupped his head, that mouth on his, a hunger he knew well. Straddling him he felt her heat brush against his shaft.

“I need you.” Her voice was breathless, full of desire to have him inside her. “Please.”

He didn’t make her wait. His own need suddenly ravenous. Raking the robe from her shoulders he nipped her neck, a hand cupping a breast as she positioned his tip at her entrance. Frantic hands slipped under her robe and gripped her hips as he pulled her onto him burying his cock deep. He groaned into her neck, nipping and sucking gently.

“Fuck Sildie.” He murmured as she started to ride him, her lips ghosting his with a sly smile.

It was rough and fast, hands frantic in their search for purchase, for pleasure. The need to touch, to fuck. Her body shuddered as she took him deep, her not so quiet cry of ecstasy as he brushed against her secret places swallowed as he kissed her hard. Her orgasm crashed through her, no warning, no chance of holding it back. She dropped her hips onto him harder, the slight bounce bottoming him out and making her climax crest again.

She took him with her this time, the sheer euphoria engulfing them both. He held her to him tightly, panting, chests heaving. Her kiss was tender as her fingers caressed his jaw and the longer scruff he’d been growing out.

“I can’t get enough of you.” She murmured before kissing him, that mind blowing kiss that rocked him to the core.

“The feeling is very mutual love.” He kissed her tenderly, those ice blue eyes twinkling mischievously at him. Slipping her robe back over her shoulders he kissed her, slow and sensual, he loved the taste of her.

“Go get dressed.” She said as she climbed off him and took the dishes to the kitchen, the sashay of her hips making him groan. By the time she’d washed everything he had dressed for their walk.

“Your turn, I’ll make some lunch to take with us.” He said kissing her hair as an arm wrapped around her waist. “We can have a picnic.”

“I like the sound of that.” She turned in his arms, those soulful eyes different today. They were relaxed, happy, the sight made her smile. “I love you.” She said tenderly, it was still so new to her that it sometimes sounded hesitant. That smile she thought, that smile when she said that to him was all she needed.

“And I love you.” He rested his forehead against hers. “So much.” His lips brushed hers with tenderness, with love. “I’m still getting used to it all.” He smiled with a shy chuckle.

“Me too. It’s strange but comfortable.” She kissed him sweetly.

“I’m sure it’ll get easier, at least I hope it will.” His fingers raked through her hair gently before his mouth took hers. “Go get dressed before I have to strip off again and make you walk funny.”

Her chuckle made him grin, he loved seeing her relaxed. Mission accomplished for this weekend, he thought silently. He only hoped it was enough to get her through her birthday. He released his hold on her and watched her walk to the bedroom, the sway in those hips making his cock twitch.

With Sildie dressed, lunch and snacks packed, Gustaf helped her into a pair of snowshoes and handed her the poles. They set off on the marked hiking trail, through the grove of trees at the back of the cabin, and along the ridge of the hill, complete with a snow pack of about six feet. He glanced back every so often to see if she was ok and caught her staring at his ass, the wicked grin making him chuckle.

“Perv.” He scoffed and then laughed as the snowball hit him in the back.

“It’s such a sexy view and what’s a girl to do when you put it right there?” She scoffed dramatically, his laugh only widened her grin. “And those thighs.” She muttered to herself and groaned at the thought of her hands all over them.

Around half and hour later they crested the second ridge and the sight was incredible. The lake spread out like a carpet of crystal, the snow capped trees, and the looming mountain in the distance.

“Wow!” The sight took her breath away. “It’s stunning.”

“It’s a gorgeous view, even more so with you in it.” He leaned over to kiss her temple. “Happy birthday.” He whispered softly. His arm came around her bundling her in close so she couldn’t pull away. “I’ll give you the world Sildie.” He kissed her brow and held her. “One breathtaking view at a time.”

She couldn’t help the tears, between his words and their significance she had no hope. He took off his glove and wiped her tears away before kissing her sweetly.

“Thank you.” She sniffed. “It’s stunning.” She chuckled and looked around wiping more tears away. He knew her so well. She wasn’t one for fancy, expensive gifts. Anyone could buy her something. He’d thought about what this place would mean to her, the connection they would have here, the peace it would bring her. Space, freedom, peace, time to start healing.

“Go explore, take some photos and I’ll setup our picnic.” He kissed her, that sweet kiss that spoke of the deep love he had for her before pulling away and walking further along the ridge.

She watched him go, the smile spreading across her face. She was so damn happy with him. Sure they’d had disagreements, but at the core of it he was her missing piece. Someone she could depend on, share the ups and downs, love her for who she was, grief and all. Taking out her phone she snapped a few photos and sent them to the kids. They would love it up here.

Her thoughts switched to what she had yet to ask him as she wandered the deep snow, soaking in everything Mother Nature was willing to give her. Something more to add to his plate, she just hoped it wasn’t too much. She was concerned, as she’d already asked so much from him this weekend, but she had to know, she had to be sure. And more importantly, she had to protect the kids.

He gave her some space as he set up their picnic, he knew this would floor her, knew it would be emotional. Watching her closely he could see the wheels turning in that wicked smart brain of hers, chewing over everything. The woman never stopped.

The slight tug at her hand snapped her out of her thoughts and his gaze was one of concern.

“You ok?” His light peck to her temple making her smile.

“Yeah, sorry, just thinking.” She squeezed his hand and let it drop.

“You’re always thinking.” His chuckle made her smile, he had a point. “Come sit with me.” He took her hand and led her to where he’d setup their picnic. “At least it’s warmer out today.”

“No snow today?”

“There’s more in the forecast this afternoon. We’ll have to eat and get back before it settles in.” He pointed off to the east where the dark grey clouds were lurking in the distance.

She sat and he knew something was bothering her. Body language was the first tell, the change in her emotions the second. It was more than just the happy birthday. He sat behind her and pulled her close, the need to feel her with him, grounding him.

“What is it love?” He asked as he took his glove off to pick up his sandwich.

“What’s what?”

He chuckled, she was in her own mind again. “What are you chewing over?”

“It’s nothing, and I’ve already asked enough from you this weekend.” She said softly, her gaze fixed on the spectacular view in front of them.

“Sildie.” He breathed out. She could be frustrating as hell sometimes, he thought.

“No, it’s fine, really.” She picked at her sandwich not really hungry with the anxiety swimming in her gut.

“Ask me, please.” He wasn’t sure what this was about but it was important to her. “Please love.” He added when she fell silent. He kissed her jaw and waited. Her eyes found his and he saw the apprehension.

“Just Tuesday with the car got me thinking.” She started and he squeezed her gently. How did she even ask him this? “It hammered a point home that I should have thought about earlier and now realize I should do something about it as soon as possible.” She stared into the distance and let the tears come, she couldn’t hold them back anyway. “Enduring Power of Attorney.” She said softly. “If something happens to me the kids have no one.” She blurted out, the sob catching her by surprise as her breath whooshed out.

“They have me, love.” He said gently. “They’ll always have me.” He kissed her neck and held her tighter not really sure of where this was going.

“Not legally.” Her huff more at her tears than at him as she tried to scrub them away, irritated that she’d let them fall in the first place. “If something happens to me they go to the next living relative which would be Dana’s family, or if they don’t want them, foster care. There’s no one left on my side to take them.” He turned her so he could see her face. “And I can’t let the kids go to her family, it would destroy them, but I don’t have any other choice unless... unless they come to you.” She was almost blubbering.

He could see the anguish on her face, feel it in her body, the uncertainty of their future should something happen to her. “You want me to take them?” His heart lurched into his throat, the food in his belly suddenly threatening to expel itself rather forcefully. Was he up for that? Could he take them on if something happened to her? Fuck, there’s a thought he didn’t ever want to think about.

“I need to ask you if you’re ok with it. It’s ok if you’re not, I’ll understand and make other arrangements, but I need them to have somewhere to go if someth...” He kissed her tenderly, anything to stop her working herself up any further, anything to silence the grief in her voice.

The thought of raising four kids on his own was terrifying. Without Sildie, could he do it? Could he be the person they needed without her there to help, to support him? The worst case scenarios went through his head at lightning speed, Dana’s family, or foster care. The thought of them being separated made him feel sick inside, the thought of them in the hands of addicts made him almost vomit. The kids didn’t deserve either of those options. Was a former addict any better he wondered? There was only one possible answer.

“Look at me.” He said gently and hooked a finger under her chin and waited for her red rimmed eyes to find his. “Yes.” Her sob strangled her at his answer. “I’ll always be there for you and for the kids Sildie, you know that.”

“But this is so much more.” She choked. “And I feel so fucking guilty for asking you. Having no other option but to ask you.”

“It is more, but my answer is still yes.” He wiped her tears away and kissed her gently. “It’ll always be yes. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you love, do for them.”

“I know you would keep them safe, and they love you.” She sniffed. “I just hate having to ask you for all of this. It’s too much and I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry forget it.” She said quickly, feeling stupid for piling more of her crap on the man. He kissed her sweetly.

“I won’t forget it.” He said gently. “And it’s not too much, it’s life Sildie. You’re trying to keep the kids safe, ensure they have a future if something happens to you. Which is your job, that’s what a guardian is. It’s your job to cover all your bases to keep them safe. You can ask me for anything love.” He tucked the wisp of hair back under the edge of her beanie and stroked his knuckles over her tear stained cheeks. “I’ll help, any way I can.” Leaning his head against hers she let out a shuddered breath and he felt her relax.

“It’s so much more though.” She swiped the tears away. “After everything I’ve been through I know what you’d be faced with and I hate having to ask you to take it on, but I have no one else I trust.” His arms wrapped around her tightly and pulled her to him. She was wrecked, she’d fallen apart on him, again. One day she hoped she’d never have to feel this emotional stress. When, she thought, when would this get easier?

“It’ll be fine love, together, you and me.” He murmured and just held her.

“I’m sorry. I sort of ruined our picnic.” She huffed, her voice raw.

“Nothing’s ruined. Nothing could ever be ruined when you’re here with me.” He kissed her head and picked up the thermos of tea, pouring a cup for her she stayed curled into him.

“I just want this to stop hurting so much.” Her voice barely a whisper.

“It will love, give it time. Here.” He said handing her the tea, kissing her temple and lingering, breathing her in. “Drink and relax. Together love.”

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much?” She asked, her bottom lip still trembling.

“I will, but you should know by now I’ll never abandon the kids, Sildie. Ever.” Sure it had been a shock when she’d asked, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, but he’d do anything for her, and move more than mountains for those kids. He’d fight for them as vehemently as she would. There would be more to figure out once they got home but he’d do whatever he had to to keep them safe.

He let her have the quiet, the tranquility this moment in time could give her. He fed her small bits of food knowing she rarely ate when she was upset, her appetite long gone. She finished her tea and curled up with him, her gaze locked on the vastness of the view. Peace and silence greeted her.

“You know how I said yesterday that I’d like to come here every year?” She said softly, changing the subject to try not to slip into the darkness that wanted to consume her.

“Mmmmm.” His tone warmed her heart. A tone that conveyed more love than he probably realized.

“I’d like it to be this cabin. Just us, the start of our memories, building happy ones.” She said quietly.

“I think we can arrange that.” He kissed her brow just below the beanie.

“I love you Gustaf.” She said tenderly. “I want this to be the place we escape to, to reconnect when we’re both losing touch with each other or life in general. When we’re stressed, when we just need to hit the pause button on life, when the world gets too loud.”

“Sildie I’ll buy you the damn place if that’s what you need.” His tone serious, there was nothing that he wouldn’t do to see her happy.

“No.” She chuckled. “I just want to be able to come here and remember that this was where you said me you love me.” She looked at him and huffed as her blush started to rise. “And I’m being a stupid sentimental fool. You think it’s silly.”

“Not silly.” He said gently. “Your heart and soul is so akin to mine it’s astounding. I’d like this place to be our tradition. Every year, the weekend before your birthday.” He kissed her, the slow sweetness that soothed and warmed her soul. “I love you.” He murmured, his lips brushing her jaw.

“I love you too.”

They sat and ate the chocolate chip cookies he’d stashed away, her appetite slowly coming back, watching the sky change from brilliant blue to stormy grey.

“We’d better head back. Snow’s coming.” He said pointing off to the east, the haze of white heading toward them with the dark grey behind it looked rather threatening. “We can soak in the hot tub, in the snow.” He chuckled as she looked at him like he was crazy.

“I’ve never done that before.” She said honestly.

“Really?” He was a little shocked since she’d grown up here.

“I’ve lived a pretty sheltered life.” She scoffed.

“Yes you have, we’re about to change that.” He grinned. “You’ll love it.”

They packed up the picnic, bellies full, containers empty. Pulling her to her feet Gustaf held her against him and kissed her, that slow seduction and a promise of more.

“Mmmm you taste good.” He growled and she felt her belly tighten.

“One more photo before we go, to send to the kids.” She said softly, her eyes brighter now than earlier. They huddled together with the view in the background and she snapped the photo. Gustaf had his on video and insisted on nuzzling his cold nose into her neck causing her to laugh. He never got tired of hearing that carefree laugh, genuine happiness.

“Why do you always put it on video?” She asked as she put her pack on.

“Because I love hearing you laugh, and when I’m away I can’t snuggle you or hear that laugh. It reminds me what you smell like, what you sound like, what you feel like.” His answer was so simple it knocked the wind out of her. “I’m slowly getting a collection so I’ll have some when I’m away next.” Which was going to absolutely kill him, twelve weeks was a long ass time.

“My sweet man.” She said softly and kissed him.

“Only you love.” He said and pocketed his phone. “I played the one from the day in the snow on an endless loop when I was away for those six long weeks. It kept me sane. I’m going to need more with this next one.”

His sentiment floored her. Videos of her, the kids, him and Lily on their birthday. She had a sudden idea and needed to talk to Brendan who was the computer whiz. It was the perfect Christmas present.

With the storm slowly marching toward them they headed back the way they came, the sky darkening as they went. By the time the cabin was in sight the snow was starting to fall.

“I think we left just in time.” She said kicking her boots off and tapping them together to dislodge the snow before sitting them just inside the door.

“We did, another twenty minutes and we might not have been able to find our way back.”

************************

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector

#gustaf skarsgard #gustaf skarsgard fanfiction #shattered lives

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war-sword · 4 years

Text

2019 Draco/Reader Secret Santa Fic Exchange - A Flurry of Memories

summary: Christmastime has always help many memories for Y/N, but now so many of them are imbued with Draco Malfoy, it’s hard to think of much else. A/N: ahhahahaha holy fuck. so i went back and forth between 2 versions of this fic for a couple of weeks before picking this one and i wrote the majority of the 2k in about... 3 hours. so. take what you will.thank you to bae aka @eltanin-malfoy for organizing this exchange!!! i hope you enjoy! prompt: first snowfall words: 2.6k taglist: @clockworkherondale @accio-rogers @mayorofzillyhoo @diademofdraco @drawlfoy @ladybuginthetardis @silversslytherin @lushlavenderskies @socontagiousimagines @acciodracoo

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A drop of wine made its way down the side of the bottle, ending it’s journey by staining the napkin below with a bloody star burst. Y/N tapped the top of her glass with her nail, listening to the gentle ring as she gazed out the window. It had begun to snow– the first of the season.

Y/N was desperately trying to get into the holiday spirit, and she grabbed her wand with her free hand to point it at her gramophone in the corner to flip her Celestina Warbeck holiday record. The needle landed gently on the b-side and “Merry Christmas, Happy Goblin Days” started with a quiet crackle. A song that would normally make her want to get up and sing, only coaxed a sigh from her.

Christmas used to be a fun time when she was in school. Large parties at the family estates, wearing fancy dresses and stuffing themselves silly with horderves. Sneaking into their father’s studies to snoop through the drawers before running away giggling, Ms. Zabini’s extravagant gifts of fine jewelry that every year got more stunning. Loading their pockets with olives and crackers, and braving the cold outside to try and coax the Malfoy’s albino peacocks close enough to stroke. And the one year they all stayed at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament, it’s own league of fun and dressing up.

And then she remembers no Christmas parties at all.

Now she has no big house to live in, no fun parties to go to, and the first night she needs to build a fire in her little house always stirs up feelings of nostalgia and longing. It’s annoying to feel depressed for no reason, but almost just as annoying when she realizes, year after year, it’s about how winter reminds her of him.

The dregs at the bottom of Y/N’s glass have created interesting patterns. She doesn’t remember emptying her glass again. The snow outside is coming down in big flakes now, and her record has gone silent. She still has a few hours to kill before she needs to start dinner. Perhaps a walk in the fresh snow can get her out of her Christmas funk.

Y/N pulls on her boots and coat at the door. She decides a hat is in order with all this heavy precipitation, and reaches up to the top shelf in the hall closet to grab her warm knit one. Something else comes down with the hat, and a length of emerald fabric pools at her feet. At one end are the initials D.M. in elegant silver stitching. Y/N had forgotten she’d had this. She considers kicking to the back of the closet for a moment while her chest swirls with a concoction of emotions, before snatching up the scarf and looping it around her neck.

A scarf is a scarf, and it’s unfortunately as warm as she remembered.

Y/N and Pansy Parkinson laid side by side on the cold oak floors of Malfoy Manor, carefully monitoring the planks for creaking. “I haven’t heard anything for a few minutes,” Pansy whispers.

“Me either,” Y/N says back.

“Check the clock again.”

Y/N carefully moves herself into an upright position and pads across the floor to check the clock on the nightstand of the room she and Pansy are sharing for the night. Together, the hands read exactly twelve fourty-five. She pads back and lies down next to Pansy again, taking a moment to steady her breathing before relaying the information.

“Shall we go?”

Y/N bites her lip, pretending to contemplate. “Yes. Should we take a candle?”

“No, stipud, we have to go in the dark. The moon is out. We should be able to see.”

Y/N looks back at the bed to look at the lumps under the covers they had created with pillows, and then follows Pansy out into the hall. Sure enough, moonlight streaks through the windows. The girl’s socked feet make no sounds as they count the doors and go around the corner. When they reach Draco’s bedroom, they stop and hold their breath to listen at the door. Y/N can hear that Draco, Blaise, and Theo are still awake and talking.

Pansy gently knocks on the door three times, waits, and then another three times, before cracking it open so they can slip inside. Abandoning all care, they sprint the few steps into Draco’s room before launching onto the bed with their other friends. “We had to wait a little while longer,” Y/N explains, “Dobby was in the hall cleaning.”

Draco, who is perched atop a pillow and leaning against his elaborate headboard, rolls his eyes. “Stupid elf. He should be downstairs cleaning, where the party was, not up here. I can’t believe our family got stuck with such a useless one.”

“That’s why my mum just got rid of ours and hired a person,” Blaise says.

“I’ve told father we should do the same, but he insists that people are too inclined to snoop,” Draco’s eyes glint with importance. “At least house elves you can be sure they won’t tell anyone anything.”

Pansy nods along with Draco as he speaks. Y/N curls her feet under her and rearranges her nightgown about her legs. “Have you tried asking Dobby about the Heir of Slytherin? If he has been around your family for a long time, maybe he knows something.” Y/N tries to steer the conversation to what they were discussing before being sent to bed, a topic they all found very important and adult.

“I doubt he would’ve had access to important information like that, besides, it’s not me,” Draco says.

Blaise, Theo, and Pansy all do the same. “I don’t understand who it could be if it’s none of us. We’re the most important people in our house,” Theo says.

“Maybe it’s a Pureblood who got sorted into another house, and wants revenge on the sorting hat,” Pansy suggests.

Blaise wrinkles his nose. “Ew, like Weasley?”

They all laugh at that, and spend hours into the morning spinning increasingly wild theories, only to be found in a heap on Draco’s bed the next morning by their parents.

The snow outside is satisfyingly crisp under Y/N’s feet. She looks down, mesmerized as her boots cut into the fresh, untouched snow and leave behind a perfect imprint of her boot. She refocuses her eyes to her hair, spilling over her coat and scarf as thick white flakes catch on the strands. Only a few minutes into her walk, she’s dappled with snow.

Thinking about old times in Malfoy Manor make her smile. The property itself isn’t very far from her current home. After the war, she’d tried to move around to various wizarding communities, but none were all too welcoming. Even though Y/N’s family’s estate was lost to her, being back in the area she grew up brought her some comfort. Even if Draco’s home was still only a few miles away.

The empty road lined with trees soon gave way to a tiny town. It was once filled with bustling shops for the magical folk in the area, disguised as run down buildings to any muggle passing from afar. Now, most of the stores truly were that, only a few like the food markets, apothecary and bookshop were still open. As Y/N passed the old tailor’s shop, she tilted her head to the sky, sticking her tongue out to catch a snowflake.

“Y/N, have you given any more thought to what colors we should wear to the ball?” Draco moves the letter away from his face, letting his arm flop off the side of the couch.

Y/N sets down her quill next to the divination chart she’s working on. “Last I heard from mum, she was sending me three to try in green, ice blue and some shade of purple. Do you care to look at the clippings of the different styles she owled me yesterday?”

“Not particularly,” Draco sighs, looking past her and into the distance. At Y/N’s beat of silence, Draco moves his eyes back to her. “I am sure whatever you pick will look very pretty,” he adds, lifting his mother’s letter to emphasize.

Y/N smiles a little despite herself. “I don’t know why she keeps writing you, my own mother is just as accessible.”

“I know!” Draco groans. The fire in the common room hearth gently illuminates his handsome features he’s grown into the past two years. Y/N goes back to her essay. “Pans still not talking to you?” Draco asks, tossing the letter on the table and turning on his side to look at Y/N more directly.

Y/N just shakes her head.

“Well, she’ll get over it soon enough, whatever it is.”

But Y/N knew exactly the reason why Pansy wasn’t talking to her, and the reason was sitting right in front of her. Pansy could be stubborn sometimes, but this was going on for nearly a week now with no conversation outside of anything in a classroom, if that. “I just want us all to have a fun time at Christmas here,” Y/N sighs, resting her head on her hands. “It’s probably the only time our parents will let us stay here over break.”

Draco looks at Y/N sympathetically. “I know. I’ll try to talk to her again tomorrow. You sure you don’t know what’s got her bothered?”

Y/N bites her lip before deciding it’s stupid to hold out. “I think she’s upset about who she’s going to the ball with.”

“What?” Draco says, wrinkling his brow. “Why, what’s wrong with Theo?”

Y/N picks her quill back up and pretends to contemplate her essay agan, so her words seem more casual. “I think she’s upset that you didn’t ask her.”

“Well, that’s dumb. She knows damn well I can ask who I want, and I asked you.” Draco catches Y/N’s eyes and gives her a sly smile. “I’ll talk to her. I dunno what’s got her wand in such a twist these days.”

“Thanks, Draco.”

“Anytime. Hey, speaking of dates, who do you reckon Potter is bringing?”

“Maybe Snape.”

Draco laughs, and Y/N can’t help but feel warm inside.

Y/N is long past the shops, and is almost near what is considered the park for the area. Mostly a collection of short, winding trails through the trees, now transformed into a gigantic snowglobe in less than an hour. Bird sounds are amplified in the silence the snow brings, and two robins chase each other across the path. Their red feathers look beautiful against the white. Y/N walks her favorite trail, stopping to look at the frost covering the berries on a bush, and check a branch to see how many inches of snow have fallen so far. At the place where her path converges with another, she notices another set of footprints. They lead in the direction of the lake, and she decides to follow them, Y/N carefully stepping in the tracks of whoever came before her.

The snow has significantly improved Y/N’s mood. The snowflakes clinging to her hair and eyelashes make her feel like a winter fairie, and the combination of the wine and her layers has her feeling cozy against the cold. She crosses her feet over to fit in the footprints, like she’s walking a tightrope. Y/N is so focused on her footsteps again that she doesn’t realize right away that she’s reached the lake.

When a familiar root forces her to take a large step into her next foorprint she looks up. The lake hasn’t frozen over yet, and it’s dark water stands out in contrast to the pale sky and landscape surrounding it. Even the bank on the other side is white, white, white, and Y/N’s gasp cuts through the quiet as she takes in the view. “Wow.”

Something in her peripheral vision moves, and Y/N turns to see what it was. Sitting on the bench facing the lake several feet away is Draco Malfoy. He’s the mirror image of the landscape she sees before him, all pale hair and face emerging from a black coat. And he looks positively scared to see Y/N.

It’s a look she knows all too well.

“Y/N,” Draco says, half greeting and half in surprise.

“Draco.” Y/N stares back, almost equally bewildered. “I… I was just thinking about you, actually.”

“That’s funny… so was I,” he says. “Would you like to come sit?”

Y/N makes her way over to the bench, and Draco pulls his wand out from his coat and melts the remaining snow on the bench. Y/N tucks her coat beneath her and sits down, unable to look away from Draco. Despite the fact that he still looks unsure, he’s not looking away either.

It’s been almost five years since Y/N has seen Draco. She can’t help but drink in the sight of him, just as handsome and heartbroken as the day he’d left. Already she’s shifting on the bench to face him.

“You look well,” Draco finally says.

“Funny, you don’t.”

Draco laughs. Really hard. “You can always tell, can’t you?”

Y/N just shrugs. “I am a talented witch, what can I say.”

Draco reaches out and fingers the edge of Y/N’s scarf, and her heart drops in her chest. She’d forgotten his initials were on display. “You kept this?”

Y/N is quite focused on Draco’s ungloved hand in close proximity to her body, but she does say, “I honestly had forgotten about it until today.”

Draco lets go of the scarf. “I remember when I gave that to you.”

“So do I.”

Draco doesn’t put his hand back into his pocket, and instead lets it rest on the bench in between them.

“I miss you,” Y/N blurts out.

“Me, too,” Draco says immediately.

Y/N scoots a fraction closer, and Draco’s hand moves from the bench to the top of Y/N’s knee.

Y/N curls closer into Draco’s lap, and dips her finger below the collar of Draco’s dress shirt to trail her nail up his neck and along his hairline. Draco runs his finger slowly back and forth across Y/N’s bare kneecap.

“Ugh,” Pansy pretends to act disgusted as she glares at her best friends from the opposite couch. “I can’t believe I used to want that.”

Daphne runs her fingers through Pansy’s hair affectionately, and Y/N can feel Draco’s laugh in his chest. “Yeah, and I can’t believe how much you acted like a bitch over it.”

Pansy rolls her eyes and just settles against Daphne. “That was like a month, Draco. Besides, nothing could ever separate me and Y/N.”

That night Y/N lays awake in the guest bedroom as Astoria sleeps in the twin bed opposite her. Pansy has ditched her this year to share with Daphne, which was expected, but didn’t make sleeping in the same room with Astoria any less weird to her. But it was fine, really.

She checked the clock beside her bed. Almost one in the morning.

Y/N threw back the covers, not bothering to hide her tracks. Astoria was a smart girl, and all the parents never bothered to check the rooms anymore. When Y/N reached Draco’s room around the corner, she just knocked once. The door flew open, revealing a tired, yet no less excited Draco.

“Hey.”

Draco grabbed her by the wrist and swept her inside.

Y/N moved her hand to rest on top of Draco’s. “I miss everyone. But especially you.” She runs her thumb across Draco’s knuckles. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Absolutely free,” Draco says breathlessly.

“Good,” Y/N says, “because I still have half a bottle of wine to finish.”

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy #my writing

184 notes · View notes

luci-cunt · 4 years

Text

Ok so when I said I was writing fanfic for AW I planned on doing a lighthearted cops/robbers kinda thing and then last night i woke up at 4am and wrote this all down and the only way I can describe it is as “Markus Zusak meets William Goldman” and I’m very sorry.

Anyways, here’s

“This is a love story”

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There was blood on the linoleum tiles, it shone in the garishly bright lights of the store. Everything looked slick, and hazy, and Izetta laid out on her back with her head resting next to the gasping man.

They both stared up at the ceiling--the man because he couldn’t move other than to wheeze a few more desperate breaths--and Izetta because she was waiting for someone.

“Bi--bitch,” the man dying managed to choke out.

It just made Izetta smile. “Yeah.”

This--as unbelievable as it may seem--is a love story.

Not between these two, however, but something a bit more… unexplainable. The concept of love predates the concept of hate, or murder--if you believe in a dusty book with just about one thousand too many words trying to explain the utterly unattainable seeming concept of: do not be a dick. Of course, maybe you follow a different religion--they all have a book though--the big ones at least.

However, I was there--at the beginning of all time, and I can tell you this one particular thing: no one started it.

The universe was created on a wild coincidence, and the planet you’re currently sitting on was forged in the opulent expanses of pure, unadulterated, chance.

One thing that is for certain is that--no, I will not be explaining who I am because I don’t matter--remember, this is a love story and I am but a concept given a typewriter and a fuck ton of a magical substance called caffiene. Remarkably, I find it tolerable, despite the fact that I watched you humans learn to chew the beans by watching goats get high.

I digress, back to Izetta and her stained linoleum floor.

The man laying beside her, dying painfully slowly had a name. It doesn’t matter though, all that does matter is that he was taking far too long to reach the end of life.

Finally, finally, the man wheezed his last breath and his eyes went dark and his body limp and lifeless. Izetta grinned, still staring up at the ceiling, her ears perked for any sign of her expected visitor.

As usual, there was no sound. At least, not until she wanted to be heard of course.

“Sloppy,” Ivory said, making Izetta’s grin widen painfully.

“Hello darling,” she said, pushing herself up to get a good look at the woman looking distastefully down at the man on the floor.

Something to note: after death you have the opportunity to become a guardian of sorts. You can watch over someone of your choosing and assist them through their life, keeping them safe. Most people stick to their families, others will latch on to total strangers just for the excitement, and others still--well, they’re Ivory.

Ivory has a brother, who has a husband. She has two nephews and three godchildren. She is also too good at her job. Despite the--for lack of a better term--OP seeming possibility of guardians, they are still human, they still make mistakes and death does not make you omniscient. Ivory however, is clever. Her brother survived four natural disasters, an attempted hostage situation, and a very messy run-in with a garbage disposal.

This couldn’t be tolerated, people do have to die at some point--thus is the circle of life. And so she was forcibly reassigned.

This is when she met Izetta--another woman horrifically good at her job. She worked as an assassin, hunting and killing people and she noticed when Ivory appeared. Most don’t, guardians are silent things, they watch over you and keep you safe in subtle ways. Izetta however, had a bit of a… shall we say… remarkably idiotic streak.

When she noticed Ivory she began actively trying to kill herself to test just how far her newfound ‘luck’ would get her.

And that was when Izetta met Ivory.

On your deathbed is the only time you can see a guardian, they’re supposed to explain the concept to you, offer you the choice, and then move on to the next family member or just off into the ether.

Izetta had to drop four toasters into her bathtub and blow her apartment up with C4 to see Ivory.

And then it became a game.

Izetta began to literally flirt with death, an affair that wasn’t unreciprocated. But then Ivory ran into the same problem she’d run into before--she was too good at her job.

They’re last moment together was a quiet one, both sprawled out in a bed, skin slick with sweat and breathing heavy as they stared at the ceiling with their heads together.

“How did you die?” she asked bluntly. Honestly she had expected something flippant as an answer. Ivory was a strong woman, she took every hit with her teeth gritted and her fists clenched just waiting for the next opening.

So when Ivory went quiet, Izetta was surprised enough that he turned her head to see Ivory’s dark expression. She was quick to push herself up and bring a hand to Ivory’s cheek, all mirth draining from their conversation. Ivory’s eyes looked dull, empty.

“You don’t have to answer that I didn’t mean to--”

“My mother,” Ivory cut her off. Izetta blinked, she didn’t get the chance to speak though, because Ivory was speaking again. “I died saving my brother from my mother.”

There was a long, endless stretch of silence. “Fuck,” Izetta whispered.

And then in the next moment Ivory was gone, vanished into thin air. It was always impossible to tell when Ivory’s will to keep her physical form would reach an end, usually it was sudden, but in this case it made Izetta ache.

She laid awake, alone in bed for a long time, before she finally made up her mind. She caught a bus, taking it to the last place Ivory had mentioned living--Wyoming--and she found herself a phone book and she searched the entire state until she ended up on Monte Cyron’s doorstep.

She knew she’d found the right person as soon as she saw him, they could have been twins. He furrowed his brow when he saw her, there was a toddler on his hip and a man a little farther in was cooking something in the kitchen and chatting with another child.

Izetta felt out of place, uncomfortable, and she drew a blank on what to say.

“Can I help you?” the man asked.

“I need you to come with me,” Izetta said. A shitty, half baked and terrible plan forming in her head.

The man breathed something akin to a laugh. “Uh, no?” he said.

“Ok,” Izetta said, and then she turned and left. She waited until the man closed the door and then snuck around the side of the house. She could hear them talking inside, quiet murmurs of confusion and concern. Izetta groaned quietly and pulled on her hair, gritting her teeth and cursing herself.

Then she looked upwards, even though she had no way of knowing where Ivory was watching her from (behind her and a little to the left, her expression dangerously dark but with a glimmer of curiosity) and she whispered. “Sorry, I really hope this works out but just--trust me? Please don’t kill me I’m trying to be nice,” Izetta said.

(it didn’t help Ivory’s expression).

Izetta waited until night had fallen thick and hot over the flat plains of Wyoming, she listened intently for any sign of movement after she heard the two men put their children to sleep, and then, when everything was quiet, she broke into their house.

Despite her rash personality, Izetta was still a highly experienced assassin who was excellent at her job, breaking in without making a single noise was as easy as slipping into sleep and she carefully crept upstairs. She slipped into their closet, neither man stirred from their sleep, and she waited patiently until one of the children in the other room started crying.

The two men groaned awake, and then Monte shoved Sinclair off the bed, which was met with a curse and a light-hearted promise of vengeance, but he left the room. Monte himself rolled over, trying to slip back into sleep, and Izetta took her opportunity. She left the closet, quiet as a ghost, and locked the bedroom door. Then, without any hesitation, she jumped on Monte and strangled him half to death.

To his credit, he fought well, and he almost got away, but Izetta was desperate and she refused to let go.

Then, right at the last second, she dropped him. He lay still for a brief second, and then gasped, quickly sucking in air and shoving Izetta off of him. She went, scrambling to the far side of the room and then grinned when she noticed the new figure in the room.

“Monte,” Ivory said, and Monte froze in his vicious attempt to follow after Izetta with the lamp on his bedside. He turned slowly--so very slowly, and then dropped the lamp when he laid eyes on Ivory.

“Ivory?” he whispered in disbelief.

They crashed into one another in the space between blinks and held each other so tightly it looked painful. Ivory’s eyes were squeezed shut and she held the back of Monte’s neck as he pressed his forehead into her shoulder and held her arms in a vice grip. It looked so practiced, so easy, like it was second nature to fall into the embrace.

Then Ivory opened her eyes and glared at Izetta. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” she growled, sounding like she was barely hanging on to her composure.

Monte pushed away quickly. “What?” he yelped, and Ivory shook her head.

“Not you--her,” she explained, and Monte jumped at the reminder of Izetta, who waved and tried her best to look polite.

“Wait--yeah what the fuck?? What the hell is going on?” Monte demanded.

“Sorry about that whole--choking you to death thing, I was trying to be nice,” Izetta said.

“You had no idea it would work, you’re a fucking idiot,” Ivory snapped.

Izetta just shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, but it did work.”

“Monte--” Ivory said, grabbing her brother’s shoulders and stealing his attention again. “I don’t have much time, I just--” she stopped, like she didn’t know what to say. “I’m so proud of you, and so happy for you.”

“I don’t--”

“It’s harder to stay here for someone who isn’t my charge, I’m already slipping but just know--you mean everything to me, and if I could do it all over again--I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

Ivory didn’t let Monte speak again, she just pulled him into another tight embrace and whispered, “The wedding was beautiful, I’m sorry I could be there for you,” and then she was gone.

“What--what the fuck,” Monte whispered.

The doorknob turned, and then Sinclair’s confused voice called out. “Monte?”

“Shit--ok, I gotta go,” Izetta said, jumping for the window. Monte caught her arm at the last second and she let him, for just a moment.

“Wait--what--?? How--?” he tried, and just shrugged.

“Sorry I’ve got no idea, bye now,” and then she was gone.

Again despite her brash personality, Izetta was actually surprisingly observant. She noticed that Ivory wasn’t around her anymore--it was hard to miss. It felt like an aching hole in her chest that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and she was sure it was going to drive her mad.

She knew Ivory had been forced to leave her brother because she was too good at what she did, and so she just assumed that was what had happened, and she made it her life’s mission to make Ivory horrible at her job.

And so we meet back at the beginning of our story, with a man bleeding out and Izetta grinning up at the love of her life.

How she managed to track down an invisible, unknowable entity--I personally have no idea. How she managed to do it for the rest of her life?

Well, I told you,

This is a love story.

#seriously I don't fuckin know what this is ksajdf;lajsdlfkjasdf #I just aljkdflakjsdf #yeah idk #alksdj;flajkl #uhm??? enjoy???#Here's some Izetta and Ivory content tho #lol #It's so rambly I'm sorry #also idk what their shipname is so they're just getting tagged as #izetta/ivory #XDD #avoiding war #luci writes #oop #guess who's writing fanfic for her own story??#that isn't even finished yet/??#yeah babey it's me #<3

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stillness-in-green · 4 years

Text

The Way You Survive Is... (4/4)

One of the joys of meeting new people is gaining a new perspective.

(Things were always going to change after Deika. This, though, Rikiya did not see coming.)

Chapter Warnings: Spinner has a judgey streak a mile wide, but compared to everything that's come before, he's a veritable bodhisattva. There are a few mentions of Rikiya’s injuries from Deika also.

Pre-ship for Spinner/Rikiya if you want it to be, but it starts because they're both Big Smitten for Shigaraki.

——— ——— ——— ———

Chapter Four: Dealing With All the Todays and Tomorrows

The end of it came unexpectedly, during Rikiya’s first meeting with his new leader after the hospital stay. Rikiya had spent the better part of an hour in Shigaraki Tomura’s personal suite, members of the League drifting in and out from the living room (and Skeptic doubtlessly listening in as well) as Rikiya recounted the Liberation Army’s holdings and activities in exhaustive detail, precedent to its new Grand Commander deciding what he wanted to actually do with the organization he’d so suddenly found in his possession. For all Rikiya’s preconceptions about him, Shigaraki Tomura had proven to have a keen interest in his new resources, asking a shocking number of pertinent questions about troop distribution, societal permeation, and goals-to-date.

Finally, though, they’d circled back to one of the very first things that had come up: Detnerat and its support goods, and, now, what sorts of creations might be in the offing for the members of the League.

“You may have seen Trumpet’s at the end—he was wearing it when he approached us.” Rikiya hadn’t seen it himself, too focused on Shigaraki and what he might say, how to give voice to overflowing emotions of reverence and regret, how to plead for the lives of his followers in a way that stood any chance of success. Still, he’d grown up with Trumpet’s voice; he knew all of its timbres, and the sound of it filtering through Sevens Loud was unmistakable. “But my Claustro was another.”

“The mech suit thing?” Shigaraki was a gaunt, black-clad figure propped up against the headboard of the bed, all but swallowed up amongst the pillows scattered across the king-sized mattress. He’d commandeered (and factory-reset) one of Skeptic’s laptops, though he hadn’t used it once during the whole of Rikiya’s presentation. It sat open beside him, the screen turned away.

“The very same! It was a pressure mechanism to boost my stress levels. I’m having it rebuilt, of course.” The influence of the painkillers in his system made it wonderfully easy to deliver that bit of news with such cheer. Shigaraki gave him a long look, then snorted lightly.

“Don’t bother.”

It was like having his legs out from under him a second time.

“I’m—I’m sorry?” Rikiya stumbled on the words, completely blindsided.

“I said, don’t bother,” Shigaraki repeated shortly. “S’more expensive than it’s worth.”

“But it really is effective,” Rikiya argued—and oh, what was he doing, arguing with this young man? He winced when Shigaraki turned the full force of an annoyed scowl on him, but forged on. “I know I didn’t make the best showing of it in Deika, but if you give me another chance to demonstrate it, or even just let me show you the numbers—”

“What are you, into bondage or something?” Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed, and between that and the stab of nausea at the very thought, Rikiya broke into an uncomfortable sweat. “You’re too desperate.”

“No,” he said slowly. “It’s just that I want to be at my most effective for you.”

“You being at maximum effectiveness isn’t our most effective play, Mr. CEO.” His young leader’s words dripped with scorn. “I’m not blowing your cover on a fight. Take the money you’d spend on that and earmark it. We’ll figure out what to do with it when we’ve got our plans more in place.”

“Yes, sir.” No more Claustro. No more Claustro.

He rallied somewhat, the thought plucking at strings within him that hummed with a giddy delight that felt twenty—thirty—possibly younger than he’d ever felt in his life. Stress was still important, of course, but if Shigaraki really did mean for him to lean into his business resources rather than utilize him in combat, then…

“Okay, I take one part of that back.” Shigaraki, who’d been staring at him the entire time he was processing the command, rolled his eyes and turned away. “I also want you to go get a massage or see a hooker or something.”

If he were on his prosthetics yet, Rikiya would surely have tripped over then. It certainly did the trick for wiping whatever sort of glassily ecstatic look he’d had on his face back off it. “I—I really don’t know that that’s necessary.”

Shigaraki pulled the computer back into his lap. “Wasn’t asking for your opinion. If I’m going to keep having to deal with you, I want you wound down, not wound further up.”

Wound down. Rikiya tried to contemplate it and found himself at a loss.

“That will be a bit of a new endeavor for me, but I’m sure I can figure it out,” he said, and the words felt like an open rooftop—free air, but no guardrail in the way of a sharp drop.

——— ———

“So what exactly do you do to relax?” Spinner asked him a few weeks later when the two of them were, yet again, the last to clear out after a meeting ended. Shigaraki had vanished off to his mysterious doctor’s lab three days prior, and already the absence of him hummed through the organization, crackling in the long stares his compatriots received in the hallways, the glances that moved between Rikiya and the new lieutenants, always landing back on him as if silently asking, Now? Do we attack now, while their guard is down? Just say the word.

The members of the now-dissolved League seemed to be handling it with rather more aplomb, thankfully. Dabi’s standoffish rudeness aside, all of them had found at least some aspect of the merger that they seemed to enjoy, be it Toga Himiko getting her choice of advisors who were willing to feed her hungers within safe boundaries, Sako Atsuhiro’s bright, malice-edged banter with Galvanize, and Bubaigawara Jin’s—well, he mostly seemed happy to be in good company. Rikiya had high hopes.

And then there was Spinner.

Rikiya gave him a politely blank stare at the question. It wasn’t the first time he’d fielded such an inquiry—poor Miyashita had asked, and various colleagues at industry conferences, and a number of people back in university, but in all cases, a pat answer was required, a mistruth or a deft lie. Spinner was a compatriot in the true labor, the cause of Liberation, and, more to the point, he was now Rikiya’s peer. That demanded a more truthful response, but Rikiya didn’t have one that he suspected was on Spinner’s list of acceptable replies.

“I mean it,” Spinner said, insistent, and crossed his arms over his chest in what was becoming a familiar mannerism. “Shigaraki told me to make sure you relax some while he’s gone, so spill it.”

“Shigaraki did?” Rikiya blinked, touched, but moreover, surprised.

“Yeah, he did,” Spinner said, still looking combative. Was he less than pleased with such instructions himself, Rikiya wondered, or was this just his usual awkwardness with socialization? “So what do you do for fun? Golf? Ski resorts? I mean, we’ve got work to do, so you can’t just take off, but—”

“Spinner, I…” Rikiya smiled, bemused. You may as well say it. “I’m not trying to be reticent. It’s just that there isn’t anything.” Spinner favored him with a supremely skeptical stare, and he reiterated, “Truthfully. If Shigaraki thinks my—relaxing will be helpful for the cause, that would—well, it would be a first.”

“There’s gotta be something.” Spinner’s face twisted into disbelief. “A hobby, maybe? Bonsai? Archery?”

“How traditional,” Rikiya attempted the joke, already turning apologetic as the last of Spinner’s aggression dissolved into bafflement. “But no, there really isn’t. Perhaps we can try one of your past-times?”

“Mine are—uh…” Oh. He can blush. Isn’t that cute? Rikiya’s thoughts informed him as the scales around Spinner’s cheeks infused with red.

“It will probably all be a new experience to me,” Rikiya offered. He smiled wider, more genuine. “How exciting.” His assurances did not seem to make the other man feel any better. In fact, he looked a bit like he wanted to crawl up the wall and escape.

“I’d need to… Uh. Order some stuff in.”

“Of course, of course! Our resources are completely at your disposal.” Rikiya beamed. “Shall we set a time for this weekend, then?”

Spinner somehow went redder still, but mumbled agreement all the same.

——— ———

The room Spinner had settled on for the venture—video games, Trumpet had predicted dourly, and Skeptic had confirmed—was an out-of-the-way conference room, not the villa’s biggest or airiest, not a corner room or common area, but one of those little meeting spaces tucked away in the bowels of any large enough building, accessible only through three different turns down four different hallways, the sort of thing you only ever saw if you’d built it, you cleaned it, or you explored enormous buildings for fun. Iguchi Shuuichi certainly didn’t fit the bill for the first two options, leaving only the latter, and Rikiya could only wonder if Spinner had found the place in idle wanderings or as the result of a deliberate search.

Regardless, the electronics took up much of one end of the room, a large-screen monitor set up on a low table, along with a glowing computer tower, a game console and sizeable speakers. Two curved black and red rocker chairs on the floor sat, Rikiya thought, rather closer to the screen than was probably recommended by the Ministry of Health and Welfare. The back end of the room was mostly bare, a table shoved up against the wall with a few damaged chairs and gutted computer towers speaking to the room’s prior life as a storage space for office supplies awaiting repair or repurposing.

Not a bad metaphor, all things considered. I wonder if he intended it.

“Oh, hey.” The he in question stood up from behind the TV, dusting off his hands and starting when he caught sight of Rikiya. “So you did show.”

“I did. And dressed down, as requested.” Rikiya spread his arms in brief demonstration of innocuous brown dress pants and a white button-down shirt, top button undone, cuffs rolled back twice. It was hardly casual, but it was as close to it as he could manage on short notice.

Spinner had done a much better job of it, a hoodie and jeans replacing his normal tac vest and dark pants, his hair long enough to brush his shoulders, thick and bushy, when his usual goggles and band of cloth weren’t holding it up. He could almost pass for a normal person on the street, save for all the knives—the one part of his costume he’d left on, sheathed and strapped to his side.

He glanced over Rikiya, looking not entirely convinced—he was an open book generally, and being able to clearly see his forehead (rather high, actually) made reading his expressions even easier—but conceded a nod.

“Well… Have a seat, I guess.” He slid a remote control on the floor towards the two chairs with his foot.

Rikiya closed the door behind him, privately thankful for the barrenness of the other end of the room—he could almost pretend the room wasn’t functionally a cellar with all that clear space at his back—and made his way over to one of the rockers, easing himself into it. It had been literal years since he’d been expected to settle into a casual seating arrangement with someone who wasn’t in his inner circle, and even those had mostly been relegated to the dinners as they’d all gotten older and busier with work. Typically the chairs were higher off the ground.

Curious would have laughed at this for days. He set the thought aside, accurate though it was, and shot Spinner an expectant smile as the man picked up a pair of controllers and thrust one out at him.

“Are you sure it’s all right that I haven’t touched one of these since university?” Rikiya asked. He took the device and experimentally fit his grip around the handles, turning it over to examine the array of buttons and controls.

“It’s fine,” Spinner responded. “I’m pretty sure games like this all teach you how to play them as you go.” He sat down in his own rocker and angled himself slightly in Rikiya’s direction. “So wait, what did you play in school?”

Hardly something Rikiya had committed to memory, given how much else had been going on in his life at the time. He dredged up what he could anyway.

“Some sort of game where players would select a character to fight another player’s character. Martial arts-themed, as I recall. There was one that involved some sort of government agent killing zombies. And I had a friend in a study group who always going on about the last game in a series he enjoyed. Something with ‘Fantasy’ in the title.”

Spinner muttered something under his breath that might have been Oh, boy and might have been Normies, and turned on the TV, simultaneously pressing the center button on his own controller. As the screen blinked on, resolving into a home screen for the game console, he flicked over to an entry labeled Seed, the image a single bright red flower on a black background. A few logos later, they arrived at the title screen, which flickered periodically through homophonous kanji (Truth, Interval, Wait), and Spinner talked him through selecting New Game, Two-Player, and selecting himself as Player One.

The game began with a figure—small, features undefined beneath the hood of a simple blue robe—standing in a dim, firelit cave, a few shelves mounted on the walls. A simple tutorial involved moving about the cave collecting items off the shelves: a bag, a canteen, and a small spade. All basic joystick controls, a simple press-X-to-interact, and then the figure extinguished the fire with a spadeful of ashes and walked unprompted into the dim tincture of daylight on one side of the screen.

Outside, a short video showed the screen’s view expanding from the flat two-dimensionality of the cave to more sprawling environs of a lush forest, all dappled greens and yellows. Tangles of vines proved impassable as Rikiya wandered up to them, attempting interaction to no avail.

“It’s not full open-world, but there’s not a time limit or anything, so you can poke around all you want,” Spinner offered, watching Rikiya uncertainly steer himself around the screen.

“And the goal is?” A soundtrack had kicked in, a pleasant and melodic string piece, interspersed with birdsong when Rikiya passed close to a flash of feathers in the verdant tapestry.

“You’ll find out when you trip over it. Just look for anything interesting.”

Rikiya obediently headed down the way that seemed generally laid out, noting a patch of particularly sunny ground up ahead. “And where do you come in? Or do we take turns?”

“The two-player functionality is for later on.” Spinner shifted positions to tuck one foot under himself—less sitting, more perching—the controller tucked in his lap. “You’ll see.”

Rikiya hummed assent and returned his focus to the screen, where a button prompt saw the character stooping down into a kneel and using her—his? its?—tools to dig a hole, drop in a seed from the bag, and recover it before pouring a small measure of water over it. A circling motion of their hand followed, some silent little ritual, and in response, a flower bloomed up from the spot, small but brilliantly red.

The character didn’t immediately rise, but the screen shifted focus slightly, and when Rikiya nudged a joystick, they returned to their feet, and so he set out through the trees again. He spotted another sunny patch before long, on a raised bluff, which lead to a new button option that resulted in a quick climbing animation and, shortly, a yellow flower glowing in the sun.

As promised, the controls were intuitive, and soon Rikiya had planted two more seeds and been forced to leave one promising-looking spot alone when the character proved unable to make the necessary climb. The next wrinkle presented itself shortly after—an empty canteen. Further exploration yielded a small brook, glittering in the light, and the ability to refill his water supply. A line of stones offered passage across the stream, and Rikiya paused, considering the implicit invitation to press forward. But after a moment, he doubled back, watering the planted seed (a purple flower this time) before heading back towards the brook.

“You’re gonna be one of those 100% completion types, huh?” Spinner observed from where he’d been watching without comment since weighing in that the unreachable spot from before might be a New Game Plus thing.

Rikiya turned the phrase over in his head, then smiled slightly. “Probably,” he allowed. “Is that a problem? I could prioritize progress instead of thoroughness.”

“You’re playing, not me. Just play how you want.” A hint of rolled eye suffused the words, and the combination brought back the memory of Shigaraki on the stage—We’re gonna do whatever we want!—a study in contrasts: a hand-tailored black suit worn with ratty red sneakers, sprawled like a street thug in a chair that belonged in a gentlemen’s club, wrapped in bandages with one splinted leg, but still speaking in a voice so effortlessly confident it gave Rikiya chills to remember.

Whatever we want.

“Is that part of the exercise here?” he asked; his voice emerged strangely hushed to his own ears. That Shigaraki’s presence could have such an effect, even in his absence… Rikiya held back a sigh. Trumpet had given him a very sharp glance the last time he’d sighed over Shigaraki and it came out revealingly wistful.

He’d half-expected Spinner to respond in denial or confusion—real or feigned, he’d not decided—but Spinner only sat quietly for a long moment before answering with, “If that’s what it takes, I guess.”

“To get me to relax?” On the TV, the camera shifted perspectives—another video—to watch the character pass between two enormous trees, screen fading to black for a few seconds before returning to show a new landscape, the terrain hillier, the trees more sparse. For the first time, sky was visible, a patchwork field of blue tumbled over with clouds.

Spinner shifted in place, the movement bespeaking awkwardness. He tapped his claws over the controller in his lap, a drum of keratin on plastic.

“…Look, this is gonna sound pretty bad, but you’re—it’s like you’re on a commercial, all the time. Mr. Compress feels less fake than you do sometimes, and I haven’t seen his real face the whole time I’ve known him. The only time you feel real is when you talk about Shigaraki and how ‘liberated’ he is.”

“I believe it very much,” Rikiya offered, then fell quiet, because it wasn’t the right time to interrupt, and also, the wistfulness had just been waiting for him to speak again to leak out into his voice.

“Right, but—Shigaraki’s gone. For the next four months. We’ve gotta keep this thing together until he gets back, and—you know we’re the only ones who really care about it.” Spinner’s shoulders had gone taut, Rikiya found when he looked over at the other man, his scaled fingers wrapped around the game controller. “Shigaraki said something about you having an aneurysm, and I know he was just joking, but your whole thing is about stress. And if that’s why you feel like you don’t ever not have a game-face on, then.” He made a sudden frustrated sound, scratching at his hair.

“It doesn’t matter how you play the game,” he went on, just as Rikiya was opening his mouth to respond. “This isn’t the kind of game you can lose. You can just—play it how you want and nothing’s riding on it. So you don’t have to turn around and ask me what’s the right way to do it. Just—play it however feels right to you.”

On the screen, the little figure in blue with their inscrutable face had knelt, clothes moving slightly with a simulated breath.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much practice with—not having a ‘game-face’ on,” Rikiya said at last. He thought about debating the assertion that no one else in his erstwhile organization cared about the new venture, but it was true that his own closest companions were making little attempt to hide their dissatisfaction. Skeptic, of course, was quite vocal, but Trumpet, too, was entirely missing his usual charm around fellow warriors. As for Geten, well, it was only a wonder that none of the League had commented yet about how long the ice in their drinks could last before melting.

“Yeah,” Spinner said with a shortness that Rikiya translated to, That’s obvious. “But it’s just the two of us down here. I won’t tell if you won’t. Shigaraki’s the only other one who likes video games, anyway,” he added in a grumble.

“I’m surprised you all could find time for such things,” Rikiya said, which felt safer than anything else, to which Spinner snorted.

“We couldn’t. I think he’s too practical to lug around a game system when he’s on the run. What’d he even hook it up to? But he does that thing where he talks in gaming metaphors when he’s thinking about strategy.” A mix of exasperation and fondness colored his voice.

“Do you suppose he might join us for this”—Rikiya waved the controller vaguely at the screen—“when he returns to us?”

Spinner’s cheeks colored slightly, and with a plaintive note, he answered, “I have no idea. He—I don’t know.” Rikiya made a questioning noise, lifting his brows, and Spinner shot him a look of residual distrust before relenting. “He’s always either on or off. No in-between.”

A somewhat garbled bit of metaphor, but Rikiya understood, if not the sentiment, then at least the dazed origin. Still, he was learning things about Shigaraki Tomura, and there was a distinct thrill to that, to find a kindred spirit in this new cause, to see a look of mixed incomprehension and wonder in someone’s face that felt correspondent with his own.

“He’ll probably need some time to recover from the surgery, at least,” Spinner concluded after another moment on consideration. “I guess we can ask. The worst he can do is laugh at us.” A beat of silence, then he amended, “The worst he would do is laugh at us.

“What?” he asked, suddenly defensive as he looked into Rikiya’s eyes.

“Mm?” Rikiya blinked at him.

“You’re smiling at me funny,” Spinner accused, and Rikiya blinked, realizing the truth of it. He was smiling—still was, in fact, the expression oddly resilient even under the force of Spinner’s raised hackles.

“Apologies,” Rikiya murmured, still staring at the way Spinner’s beak twisted around an awkward scowl as he looked away, lilac pink eyes narrow.

“Just get back to the game,” he muttered.

“Ah, of course.”

———

It was a rather nice little experience, in the end. The game progressed through different environmental stages, growing more barren from forest to plain to desolate shoreline and eventually into an abandoned city, all shattered glass and cracked asphalt and dim skies, hinting at some sort of apocalypse. It encouraged exploration of its different areas, with well-placed lulls in activity to take in its vistas and views (and it really did have exquisite color design), and each new area requiring more ingenuity to find water or soft earth or even sunlight. In the third area, the second player’s role became clear, as the main character encountered some sort of wind spirit (hinted to be a ghost in the second-to-last stage) that could reach and manipulate areas and objects out of the main player’s grasp, as well give their jumps a modest boost.

The whole thing climaxed in a grueling slog through a blasted wasteland, all pale ash and white-hot sunlight and scouring winds. As played by Spinner, the spirit pushed insistently at the main character’s back even as their steps began to falter, and when they finally collapsed, it was in the shadow of their own body that they planted their final seed. The wind spirit—now in ghost form again—pushed the ashes over the hole as the cloaked figure dribbled out the last of their water, then, together, they performed the ritual gesture, both hands moving as one. A long, tense moment followed—predictable in the cinematic sense, but by then Rikiya was far too absorbed to quibble—before the seed unfolded into a red flower. Seconds passed, and then another blossom found its way out of the sere earth some distance away from the fallen figure in blue. It was followed by others, and the whole time, the red flower grew and grew, until a graceful tree, branches draped in crimson, stood at the center of the field of brilliant colors.

The credits rolled over a sweeter, fuller version of the game’s main theme, and a final little scene showed the two characters at the entrance to the cave from the beginning of the game, the blue-cloaked figure watching the canopy of the forest as the wind spirit toyed with a swirl of leaves.

“Well,” Rikiya said. He and Spinner had not been entirely silent since the exchange about Shigaraki, but Rikiya had let him set the pace of conversation. That had led to Spinner asking again, during the first beach area, whether Rikiya really had no hobbies to speak of; when asked in turn about his own, he had—reluctantly at first, then with increasing enthusiasm—talked about his personal favorite games. Rikiya was left with the distinct impression that Seed was not the sort of game Spinner normally favored, which showed a generosity of spirit Rikiya thought best rewarded by not drawing attention to it.

“That was a very charming experience,” he went on, ordering his thoughts for discussion—and also stretching out what remained of his legs; he would need to make some time for physical therapy after this.

“Was it relaxing, though?” Spinner asked, striking Rikiya to a chuckle with his blunt focus.

“I think the ending was tense enough to keep it from being entirely relaxing,” he said after giving the question due consideration. “But it felt like the intention was more to be cathartic, and it was that.” Rikiya felt a rare lightness in his body—not as profound as Shigaraki overthrowing all his burdens, certainly, but—akin to it, perhaps. A sense of stress expunged that, prior to Deika, he had typically only experienced after spars, and it had been rarer and rarer for him to take part in those as the years went on, much less expend any significant amount of stress in doing so.

“It was a wonderful tone piece,” he went on. “I think it would have been that much just to watch it, but the interactivity gives it its real impact. I can see why it’s well-regarded.”

Spinner nodded, uncertainty lingering in his eyes. “So—do you want to try to do it again sometime?”

“I’d be happy to. You should bring some of the games you talked about next time.” He paused as Spinner first brightened, then visibly tamped himself down and turned his attention to the game, beginning the process of exiting and turning off all the various components with a cursory mumble of agreement to Rikiya’s suggestion.

Unfortunately, with Spinner once again getting cagey, the sense of the contours of the room was creeping back in. The transporting nature of the game was confined to the experience of playing it, and outside that, it really was quite a small room. And if they did convince Shigaraki Tomura to join them, all the presence and intensity of him in such close quarters… The thought tightened a cord around Rikiya’s chest, hope and fear mingled in the remembrance of the sublime.

If I’m going to have to keep having to deal with you, I want you wound down, not wound further up.

There is one thing you could ask for. It was a small thing to ask in some ways, a large one in others, and if he let himself linger on it, he would doubtlessly talk himself out of it, which seemed disrespectful to the amount of time and effort his companion had devoted to this whole endeavor.

“Spinner,” he said abruptly, and the man looked back over at him with a small, suspicious frown and wary eyes. “The next time we do this…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we might do it somewhere with windows?”

Should I explain? Would he even want to hear about something like that? Can I even talk about something like that?

Spinner studied him for a long moment, and Rikiya wondered suddenly how much more Shigaraki might have told him, about their confrontation, about the Claustro, about—well, about whatever conclusions Shigaraki had come to. As the seconds stretched on, he felt the tiny curve of a smile on his face, not the expression of someone brimming with happiness to be shared, but the resigned air of someone awaiting a trial. Not his best work, it had to be said.

“Yeah,” Spinner finally said. “That’s fine.”

The answer—Spinner’s decision not to press—felt like a weight lifting. A small one, to be sure. But it was…

Well, it was a start.

…And perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to look into finding a few video games to bring in himself next time, too.

——— ——— ——— ———

Seed may look like a complete rip-off of Journey, but it also takes some inspiration from Prune, Monument Valley, Flower and a dash of Gris as well. It's using the verb-form of its titular word, which in Japanese would be pronounced ma, as would be the other kanji mentioned. (The kanji for devil has the same pronunciation, but the game devs didn't include it.)

Thanks for reading, all!

#boku no hero academia #bnha #yotsubashi rikiya #re-destro #shigaraki tomura #iguchi shuuichi #spinner bnha #cw: claustrophobia #it's pretty mild in this chapter tho #my writing #ficcing

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dragonleesupporter · 4 years

Text

The Loudest Firework

AN: I’m SO sorry for making this so late. This was supposed to be done before the new years. Life’s been really kicking my a- ANYWAY Hope yall enjoy!

A sequel to this one: Checking It Twice

Ships: Intrulogical

WARNING: Remus, tickling, touch starvation, cursing and abusive Deceit

The duke was pouting. Not because he was bored, or because he didn’t get his way… he was just confused. As the chaos entity within Thomas, he loved causing confusion, but experiencing it himself? Ugh. Pass.

Logan had given him a gift for Christmas, but when the following days had come around, he had done nothing for or with Remus, scrambling his thoughts in the process. Logan liked to keep things consistent, so why was he just back to normal now? Did he change his mind? Or was it actually him who gave him the present? Yet, Logan would be the only one with enough specified categorizing to give him something so delightfully his style. The duke’s mind started racing, even more than usual. Had he wrapped the present for himself after all and just not remembered it? But what about Logan’s face that morning?? How insane was he becoming???

It was now New Years, and Remus felt like he was truly losing it. He sat on the couch, scratching his chin as his eyes twitched.

“Why the figuratively long face, Remus?” A calm voice started the green side from behind as he spun around.

Logan.

The cause of his confusion.

Remus’s pout morphed into a snarl.

“What do you want?” He snapped, nose wrinkled.

“Answer my question first and there’s an increase in probability I’ll tell you.” The teacher grinned slightly.

That SAME SLY GRIN! The same one he wore Christmas Morning! Remus’s eyes widened.

“Oh, I don’t know Logan, why IS my face so long?” He grabbed the bottom of his jaw, stretching it out.

“I said figuratively…” Logan massaged his forehead. “No matter, I shall answer your question. I want to see you happy.”

Remus had to slap himself. “Excuse me, what???”

Logan blinked. “Did I stutter?”

“I-I… n-n-n-no???” Remus looked up at him with eyes of constant changing dilation. Logan had to resist chuckling at his utter dumbfounded expression.

“It’s not all that hard to understand.” He offered, recognizing the look of panic crossing the poor duke’s face.

“Yeah, I know WHAT it is, you enema! I’m trying to figure out the WHY!” His eyes flared red around the edges.

“Sit down, and I’ll tell you.” The blue side offered.

“Hmph.” Remus sat as the teacher instructed, and waited for his overly complicated, boring explanation that would most likely only raise more questions or cause the master of chaos to fall asleep.

But instead of walking in front of him to teach him something or criticize something, Logan squeezed his way between Remus and the couch. The duke was about to ask what the fuck Logan was doing, when his breath got caught in his throat. Fingers were digging into his screwed-up back with the most impressing precision. He couldn’t help the loud moan that came from him.

Logan twitched irritably, convinced Remus had made that noise as some sort of joke, but when he leaned to stare at his face, Remus’s expression told otherwise. Eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, jaw slack.

He had not felt the touch of any of the other sides for years… The only faint memories he had of such a warmth and comfort was when from the times he and Roman were one side many, MANY years ago. After the split, he had only himself and the other dark sides… Which, in some twisted way, made him thankful for the times Dee hit him, because even though it was a slap or a punch, it was touch… and it hurt so good…

But this?!

Logan wrapped his arms around Remus to stable him, convinced he’d fall over otherwise. The poor duke was shivering and whimpering, turning to goo at Logan’s touch.

“Am I overwhelming you?” He asked sincerely, starting to pull away.

Remus’s top half snapped as he twisted his chest, arms and head 180 degrees to face him and grab at him. “No!” His eyes glistened with more tears that would soon add to the multiple tear streaks already on his face. “Don’t!” His green eyes were bright with his pupils pin pricks of desperation.

There was that terrible expression again, except this time, it was worse. The tears active, the wide-open eyes and brows pressing harshly into the tops of his irises… but most of all, that sad frown accompanied by gritted teeth of grief.

“Please, don’t let go!” Remus’s eyes popped out of his skull in agony and fear, his voice sounding completely different now.

Logan couldn’t help but stare, shocked, at what he could only describe as Remus’s true self. Broken and desperate. No bravado or pride in his work… just a lonely side with a craving for touch that hadn’t been satisfied in years.

Logan wanted to wipe off that pathetic look on is face so badly as the duke blinked rapidly, more tears spilling as silence pierced him. Dee always used to give the duke the silent treatment, and if he didn’t respond with ‘yes’ and kept quiet… it usually meant… no.

Remus started sniffling, Logan’s shocked expression sinking in as he made the connection that he probably just ruined any chance he had at getting more of that touch. He gave in, letting Logan go and sobbing into his hands.

The teacher couldn’t stand it. The expression, the shivers and now that AWEFUL sound coming from the duke as he wept like a slapped child. He rushed forward, hugging him fully despite his body being twisted around.

Remus gasped and hugged him back tightly, face utterly drenched as he begged.

Touch… touch, it felt so good.

“More… more…” He choked out, whimpering, rubbing his head against Logan’s shoulder as relief flooded his senses, soaking Logan’s shirt in the process from a never-ending stream of tears.

The dark blue side had never taken into account just how cold Remus’s body was. The teacher breathed deeply, holding the duke tightly as he slowly rocked them in their hold, letting his warmth spread to Remus’s deprived, starving form.

GOD, it felt so good it almost burned!

He sighed again and again as the waves of warmth fed him and filled him up. Making his barren heart full once again since god knows how long! When Logan turned to look at him, the duke was drooling slightly, eyes wide- almost drunk from the warmth and touch. His eyes sparkled, and his face owned a tiny precious smile, all for Logan.

Was it selfish to want to keep that smile all to himself? To hold it in his memory away from the others forever? Logan didn’t care at this point, this emotion felt too precious and fragile to give away just yet as he stared at Remus’s melting posture.

“Are you happy now?” He asked, smile smug.

“Gaaaahhh…” Remus couldn’t even speak, but nodded light-headedly, his heart beating harder the longer he stared at Logan. Eventually, it proved to be all too much for the poor master of chaos as he passed out in Logan’s arms, his heartbeat nearly showing through his chest.

***

“Jeez, where’s Logan and Remus? They’re gonna miss the countdown!” Roman searched through the house, looking for the teacher and his brother. He knew Logan wasn’t a big fan of jumping or shouting when it became a new year, saying something about it just being the inevitable passing of time, but his brother was also missing, which was strange. Remus wouldn’t dare miss out on an opportunity to be loud! So, where was he?!

“Looooogaaaan! Reeeemuuuus!” He called repeatedly throughout the mindscape, panicking as he realized New Years was now only 10 minutes away.

“Sh!” Logan poked his head out of his room and briefly hushed Roman before ducking back inside.

“Logan! What are y-“

“Sh!” Roman staggered back a few steps, surprised as Logan hushed a second time. He slowly walked into the logical sides room and had to rub his eyes a few times to process what lay before him.

Remus was sprawled out on Logan’s bed, every limb seeming to melt into the cushions. His expression contained a large genuine smile, and peacefully shut eyes as he breathed out little sighs of pure happiness.

“Which drug is he on?!” He whisper-screamed to Logan, who had to hold back a chuckle.

“None…” Logan smiled tenderly as Roman looked between his brother and the teacher. His eyes narrowed in realization.

That smile on Logan’s face… Remus’s relaxed posture… The look in the teacher’s eyes…

“You… and him? Logan, are you serious?” Roman whispered, eyes scanning Logan’s expression carefully, to make sure this wasn’t some sort of joke.

Logan just nodded his head. “How do you suppose we wake him up?” He murmured, gliding a hand along Remus’s arms which caused the green side to shiver in his sleep.

Roman opened and closed his mouth, sentence fragments almost spilling from his lips, but not quite, utter shock making him freeze in place as Logan’s hand wandered under Remus’s chin and a scratched a little.

The duke giggled, face turning slightly pink. Logan got an idea. Moving his hands and arms like snakes, he wiggled his fingers gently against the green sides neck.

The duke’s giggles got a little louder, his shoulder’s scrunching up to protect himself from the tickles.

“Care to join me, Roman?” The logical side looked at the prince, who was visibly excited, shaking in place.

“Oh god, it’s been years since I’ve gotten to do this…” His excited puppydog smile melted into a sly smirk. “I forgot about all the tickle fights we once got into… You know one place that drives him crazy?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, also smirking now. “Even more so than his usual crazy?”

Roman gently lowered his hands to Remus’s legs, nodding. He lifted one up and rolled up his pant leg. Logan did the same to the other side, watching with intrigue and copying every one of Roman’s movements on his side.

The red side suddenly dug his fingers into the back of Remus’s knee, causing the master of chaos to wake up screaming and cackling.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP THAHAHAHAHAHAT!” Remus kicked his leg wildly as if it were electrocuted. “BROHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” His maniac cackling sounded slightly different to Logan, still slightly sweeter and… cuter than his normal set of chaotic laughing.

Logan wanted to hear more of it, so, with a smirk, he dug his hand into the leg he was holding, copying Roman’s techniques.

“PAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! NOTYOUTOOSTAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHASE!!!! LOHOHOHOHOHOGYHYYHYHYHYHY!!!” Remus shrieked, wiggling, trying to get away from the maddening sensation, face fire-engine red with tears starting to leak down his face.

Logan stopped at that, not just because of the desperate pleas but…

“Wow, did he just call you a cute pet name? Pleadingly?” Roman teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Logan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t blame Roman. “I think that’s enough… don’t you?”

“Awww, please? Just a little more?” Roman whined, dinging a single finger into a special spot in the center of the knee, making poor Remus scream.

“Roman, he’s crying. Stop.” Roman looked up in surprise at Logan’s low, protective voice.

Remus sat up, panting and still giggling, trying desperately to rub away the explosive tingles still behind his knees.

“Bro, it’s almost time for the countdown…” Roman chuckled and cooed teasingly.

“O-Okay…” He got up shakily and was immediately supported by Logan, who helped carry the giggly duke to the balcony where the others were waiting for the countdown to see the fireworks.

Remus whined at the touch Logan was giving him, and was slightly scared he was still dreaming… As he thought this, the teacher wrapped his arms around him yet again, sending shivers up his spine.

The others started chanting… “10! 9! 8! 7! 6!” Logan inched his face closer to the duke’s, eyes shining with galaxies in them with a small gentle smile. The green side’s mind froze.

No… he wouldn’t… would he?

“5! 4! 3! 2! 1!” The rest of the ‘Happy New Year’ chant was suddenly forgotten by the duke as he entered another world, Logan pressing his lips passionately to his own. His pupils shrunk to microscopic size before widening so much his eyes was nothing but pupil. He clung to him, pulling him closer to himself as he kissed back, eyes squeezed shut with tears of happiness leaking, face flushed an even deeper shade than his brother’s sash.

Logan pulled away, much to the dismay of the other, who could’ve sit there kissing him forever, but what came next only made his heart rate triple.

“I love you, Remus.” Logan’s eyes went from tender to panicked as Remus shook madly in place, sparks flying off of him as his pupils became invisible to the human eye, a noise close to something like a kettle whistle coming from him.

“Oh shit, what did you do?!” Roman turned to look at the teacher, eyes flashing in worry.

“I-I…” The dark blue side stuttered, not being able to form a sentence in his panic, thinking he broke the master of chaos.

Remus lifted one foot and stamped the ground hard, sending his glowing form shooting high into the air, until he was nothing but a spec in the sky, he suddenly burst into a giant green firework in the shape of a heart. Logan looked around in the sky desperately just to find that the duke was lying on the ground, giggling with a hand pressed to his mouth.

“ Heeheeheehee… I-I love you too, Logy…”

@bexxbeauty @cefsticklestoo @thestarswelcomemewithopenarms

@did-he-just-hiss-at-me @all-my-fandoms-are-killing-me @ollyollyoxinfree

@cooliofooliosanders

#tickling #angst #touchstarvation #sanderssides #remus #intrological

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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

Text

Shadowed Hearts/Winter Souls (Chapter Eleven)

MASTERLIST

**********************

Breakfast was a rushed affair the next morning, supply lists drawn up and handed out between bites of toast and plans made around sips of bitter coffee.

Natalia turned over all her coin to Samuel and Ronin when they went to the rooms to pack their over night bags, but only after Tony pointed out that their show of wedded bliss would be more convincing if the rich husband was handing out the money.

“Antonio, I didn’t marry you for your money!” Natalia reminded him teasingly and Tony’s voice was just the edge of frosty when he replied, “No, you married me because I was pretty enough to be a convincing alibi and desperate enough not to ask many questions. My wealth is only a bonus, isn’t it?”

He smiled to soften the words but it wasn’t quite enough to erase the bite in his tone and Natalia pursed her lips in confusion, her next words carefully measured. “And what a lovely bonus it is, darling, though not the reason we want you to stay.”

“No, I’m sure that’s not the reason at all.” Tony’s eyes went to the door when James stepped through, his gaze lingering over the stretch of the soldier’s shoulders and down to the line of James’s hips. “Shall we be off, then?”

“Antonio.” Natalia put her hand on his arm before he stood. “Are you alright? I didn't mean anything by the comment about your money, but you seem upset all the same.” She inclined her head in the barest motion towards James. “Is there a reason you are being particularly stiff and irritable this morning?”

“Don’t be ridiculous." A streak of red painted Tony’s cheeks, but he still waved Natalia’s question off. "You’ve just forgotten how stiff my manners can be. I was raised practically noble you know. What you see as irritable, others see as evidence of class."

“Well, you were sort of a bore when I snatched you from that party, weren’t you?” Natalia’s mouth was still set in an uncertain line as she sent another look at where James was talking with Samuel. “But irritability or manners aside, no one expects you to put on airs today, not even with the amount of money you’ll be spending, do you understand? No need to pretend. About anything.”

“I’m not pretending about anything.” Tony slid fine gloves onto his hands and shrugged into his warmer coat. “And I think you should stop worrying.”

Stop meddling is what Tony meant, the censure evident in his posture. “Antonio.” Natalia tried again, keeping her voice low so it didn't carry to the men at the door. "I just don't want you to worry about James. He is more discreet than his terrible attitude would suggest and--” “Natalia.” Tony’s eyes flashed in a clear warning for her to back off. “I might be out of my element chopping wood and cleaning chamber pots around the manor, but there are several things I know how to do very well, including how to behave after a late night indiscretion. Please do not think I need any help navigating this sort of situation and please do not make assumptions about how I’m feeling.” To the men at the door, effectively cutting off any sort of reply from Natalia-- “Let’s get on. We have lots of supplies to purchase and if we want to be home again by dark, we need to move.” Tony’s tone was brittle and almost snappish, and while Ronin raised his eyebrows at the sharp words, Samuel simply slung a friendly arm over Pietro’s shoulder and said, “Pietro, come along with us to get the ammunition and nails and that sort. Leave the women to prance around with Tony in that ridiculous fur coat.” “This coat is worth more than your horse.” Tony informed him with a faux offended sniff and Samuel grinned back. “And you’ll be sorry when I buy Natalia and Wanda new dresses and you have to keep wearing the same ratty pants.” “Antonio!” Wanda’s eyes lit in surprise and hope. “Would you really buy me a new dress?” “I’ll buy you four if you like.” Tony said nonchalantly, a smile curving his mouth when the pretty girl flushed in pleasure. “Natalia as well. I’ve got the coin, we should spend it on something.” “Oy! I want to go along with Tony!” Pietro protested loudly and Samuel just clapped a hand on his collar and hauled him out the door behind James. "No wait! I want new things! I want new things too!" “My love.” Ronin bent to give Natalia a long kiss, then looked up at Tony, “Buy her something in purple. I like when she wears purple.” “Purple it is.” Tony nodded and looked away politely when Natalia kissed her love back. “We’ll try for two in the afternoon to meet? That should be plenty of time to do our shopping and to start back home again.” “I’m sure that’s enough time.” Natalia signed the same to Ronin and blew him another kiss as he left. “Now then, Antonio I was thinking we should--" She shut up abruptly when James came back, ignoring both her and Wanda in favor of coming round to Tony’s side of the small table and covering his mouth in a long kiss, burying his fingers in Tony’s hair to angle his head just right and murmuring against Tony’s lips-- “dobroye utro.”-- as they parted. “Good morning.” “Good morning.” Tony whispered back and James gave him one last kiss before straightening and leaving again, closing the door behind him and thumping down the stairs to catch up with Samuel and Ronin. Wanda was the one to break the stunned silence, giggling, “My oh my. Antonio, you two must have had a wonderful time together! I've never seen James smile in the morning, it must be the same smile you left him with last night!”

Tony turned positively scarlet and Natalia was quick to reprimand, “Wanda! You are too young to know about those sort of things!”

Wanda protested, “I’ve been grown for three years now! You can’t expect me to only talk about hair ribbons and pretty horses forever! Of course I know what happens in the bedroom--”

“No!” Natalia burst into laughter and waved her hands wildly. “No, child. I cannot believe that. Don’t hurt my ears with such talk!”

“You are as old fashioned as a grandmama.” Wanda informed her with a little huff, before turning frankly curious eyes to Tony. “Are you and James in love? Is that why he kissed you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There are a million reasons to kiss someone that have nothing to do with love or affection at all.” Tony managed, biting at his lips to hide a smile. “Let’s go please.” “But what about--” “Let’s go please!” Tony swept out of the room without another word, and Wanda hesitated less than a second before whirling around to ask, “Talia, why is he so surprised James wanted to kiss him after spending the night together? They are so obviously smitten, I’m sure they’ve kissed before!” “First of all, I'm sure neither my brother nor Antonio have any idea exactly how smitten they are." Natalia said dryly. "And second, I assume Antonio’s previous lover never initiated a kiss unless they were already in bed He doesn’t talk about it much, but it seems he and his lover only met on the other man’s terms, in a private place and never ever spent the night together. I can’t imagine Antonio has ever been kissed good morning.” “How sad for Antonio.” Wanda buttoned her own jacket then held out Natalia’s to help her into the sleeves. “I’ve never been in love and even I know it couldn't have been true affection.” “It’s always easier to judge a situation when you are on the outside looking in, darling.” Natalia retrieved her purse and checked the room one more time to be sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. “And you’ve spent years watching how Ronin and Samuel and I are together, the way our entire family loves so freely. James is the odd one out in that respect, and Antonio is the same. You recognize love when you see it.” “And you think Antonio doesn’t?” “I think he’s so jaded by what he thought was love, he won’t want to recognize it.” Natalia tsked sympathetically. “Shadows, Wanda. He has shadows in his heart and I’m afraid they are too dark for him to see anything at all.” “You’re worried James will be hurt.” “I’m worried they’ll hurt themselves and each other and not realize until it’s too late.” Natalia tucked a piece of red hair behind Wanda’s ear and smiled into the girl’s eyes. “Promise me you won’t go running after the first boy to smile at you. Or the first woman to call you beautiful. Please please be smarter than that. For me.” “Talia.” Wanda sighed and pushed her out the door. “I’ll be lucky if anyone gets close enough to even see me, what with Ronin and Samuel being so protective. There’s nothing to worry about, not for a long while.” “It’s terrible selfish of me to be glad for that.” Natalia linked their arms and hurried down the stairs. “Now come on. We don’t want Antonio to change his mind about buying us dresses, do we?”

****************

Natalia Romanova was born a blue blood, raised in a home that was damn near a castle and wed to a high ranking nobleman and yet she had never been treated with the respect just walking around as Tony’s wife gave her. Her father had been suspected of treason long before he’d ever been convicted and Natalia’s childhood had been full of snide remarks, of less than quiet comments and outright awful insinuations about her family and the lack of morals afforded the Romanovs.

As the young bride of a monster, Natalia was handed all the responsibilities of a noblewoman and was given none of the benefits-- no party invitations, no afternoons of tea with the other ladies, no dressmakers clamoring to create something lovely for the next ball. She had been isolated and ostracized, lonely and miserable and no one had ever cared. Talia was used to being looked down at, whispered about, having her money accepted only begrudgingly, as if even her coin was tainted and Natalia hated every moment of every interaction clear to her very soul. But around the city with Tony, Natalia was treated like a queen, shop owners opening their doors wide and eagerly showing the three of them around. The dressmaker nearly fell over herself calling for assistants to take measurements for Natalia and Wanda, promising to have several of the ready made dresses tailored immediately and sent out as soon as possible, holding up hats to model and pair after pair of delicate kid gloves, scarves, broaches and baubles. Shopping for food things and pantry items was the same, vendors happy to sell to Natalia now when in months previous they had sniffed and turned away. Tony ordered everything crated and delivered to their wagon with an itemized receipt, the finer things stored in the carriage and oh would there be hell to pay if he discovered even one item missing from the list. “We can carry some of the things, Antonio.” Wanda whispered and Tony hushed her with a lofty, “I’ve never carried a package in my life and I’m not about to start now. Next shop, please.” Clear on the other side of the town, James and the others were busy purchasing as much ammunition as they could, two new rifles and four more refurbished pieces they could tear apart and use to repair the pile at home. Nails of all sizes, a new saw, a new ax head as well, and the coin purse still wasn’t empty by the time they were done.

Ronin and Samuel stopped into a trinket shop to purchase a few gifts for Talia and the twins, and James privately purchased something he tucked into his pocket for later, something he'd give Tony if the time was ever right. “Everything alright?” Samuel asked James as he rechecked the supplies against the list Natalia had written. "You're quiet today." “I’m always quiet.” James countered brusquely. “Are we done?” I agree. Quiet. Ronin signed, and then, “We’re done if you are." “It was good to see you smile this morning.” Samuel spoke for both of them, shaking his head when Pietro looked like he was going to ask a question. “Been a long time since you managed that sorta thing for anything other than bloodshed.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” the big soldier tucked away a new pouch of tobacco and cloves. “So don’t.” “It’s not--” Samuel sent a glance over to Ronin. “--I mean, It’s been ten years, James. You don’t have to feel guilty for this sorta thing, for being with Tony? And he sure looked happy this morning so--” “I said don’t!” “Alright then.” Samuel wisely let the topic drop, handing Pietro the rifles and a sack of ammunition. “Let’s find the others.” ************ The ride home was spent with Wanda excitedly telling Pietro about her day, about the dresses they’d tried on and the ribbons Tony had bought for their hair and how she couldn’t wait to have an excuse to wear her new hat somewhere fun. Samuel rode along the other side of the carriage to keep an eye out for any danger, listening with one ear to the conversation and grinning over Wanda's glee.

Natalia napped in the carriage with most of the smaller packages taking over the seats, a blanket spread over her lap so she was warm. She was exhausted from the long day, from putting on the airs and manners she had always hated. It had been fun to be so spoiled, to be treated so well, but more than anything Natalia wanted to get back to their manor house, back home so she could sleep next to her loves and finish readying the house for the coldest months.

Ronin drove the heavily laden wagon with his horse tied behind, and Tony rode to the side as guard. The pace was slower this time around but the horses put in a valiant effort and Tony encouraged them with quiet clicks of his tongue and soft words. James trailed behind the group much like he had the first time, sweeping the surrounding woods for any sign of life, turning in the saddle to check behind to be sure they hadn't been followed from town. He hadn't seen a single soldier today no had he caught anyone looking at them with anything any other than generic curiosity, but that didn’t mean soldiers hadn’t been present, or that their family hadn’t been watched.

So James scanned the woods, checked the trail behind, looked as far ahead as he could to be sure there were no surprises ahead and his eyes only paused in their surveying when to settle on Tony’s back every few moments. The night between them had been… well, it had been surprising, to say the least. Their first real kiss had shocked James as much as it had seemed to shock Tony, the way their bodies suddenly yearned and clung and ached. James had tried to go slow, he had. It had been a long time for him after all, ten years since he’d lost Stevie and James hadn’t wanted anyone since that awful day.

In reality, James had barely wanted at all since then, forsaking even the comfort of his own hand and drowning any lingering urge for pleasure in blood and pain until it didn’t exist anymore. But Tony had been nothing like Stevie. Shorter for one, and quite a bit smaller. James’s hands could just about fit around Tony's waist and the pretty brunette had made this gorgeous surprised noise that made James’s fingers tighten around the reins just thinking about it. And afterwards when they had held each other for just a few minutes, Tony had fit with his head tucked under James’s chin, their feet tangling beneath the covers and it had been damn near perfect. And Tony was soft, so soft. Not rows and rows of hard muscle, not arms strong enough to pick Bucky up and shove him into a wall, not thighs thick enough to clamp around Bucky’s head and nearly suffocate him as he tried to fit everything in his mouth. No, Tony was soft and breakable and for the first time in ten years James hadn’t wanted to break anything. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d tried to be soft. He’d tried to find the words to soothe Tony’s obvious embarrassment over expecting to be turned face down. It hadn’t been until after Tony had left the room, not until after the sun had risen that it occurred to James that at some point, Tony had always been pushed face down in bed. Who would do that, when there were such sweet lips waiting to be kissed and a mouth begging to be tasted and a blush red on porcelain skin and the chance to listen to every little gasp and pant and the way Italian slipped into Tony's words when he was overwhelmed? Who would want to miss that? Tony hadn’t said anything after their kiss this morning, in fact he hadn't said anything at all since leaving the town, only flashing James a quick smile before ducking inside the carriage to change out of his fancier clothes and into a shirt and coat he could travel in. Then he’d climbed aboard his horse--with a grimace and a wince that had made a very specific sort of satisfaction curl through James’s stomach-- and hadn’t said a single word. That was alright. They’d have time to talk tonight after the wagon was unloaded and supplies stacked in the pantry to be sorted through in the morning. They could talk and then they could-- James cursed out loud when he was suddenly physically uncomfortable in the saddle, shifting his weight and lifting up in the seat so there wasn’t quite so much pressure. Ten years of foregoing this sort of thing and now he was as eager as a young man, nothing more than a few thoughts needed to get him going.

Tony turned around at the noise, shooting James a concerned glance. “Alright?” “Saddle’s uncomfortable.” James said evenly, and then with a pointed look lower on Tony’s body. “How’s yours?” Tony lifted one shoulder in an approximation of the least concerned shrug he could manage and turned back around, being sure to muffle his whimper as his core lit up with a flash of pain, settling into a dull ache that made his cheeks heat and his heart race. All day he’d managed to keep his mind off of James and on the tasks at hand, but now they were only a few hours from home all Tony could think of was what would happen tonight. If anything would happen tonight. He couldn’t imagine wanting someone so soon again after a night together-- he and Ty had always gone at least a week between trysts, sometimes even longer. But James had come in this morning and kissed him in full view of Talia and Wanda, had kissed him and whispered soft things into his ear and last night he had asked Tony to stay for a few minutes so they could hold each other and oh Tony didn’t know what he’d do if James wanted him again tonight. That was absurd, of course he knew what he’d do. He’d say yes. **************** It was dark by the time they made it home to the manor house, and James sent Natalia and Wanda inside while the men carried everything through the house and stacked it in the pantry and around the kitchen. Samuel and Ronin took care of the wagon and carriage, sweeping out the dirt that had accumulated over the past two days and backing them each into the empty barn on the other side of the courtyard. Wheels were locked into position and any hinges or latches secured, then the barn doors were barred and left until next time. “I’ll get the horses.” James was already walking Zima towards the stables, so neither Samuel nor Ronin argued with him, eager to get upstairs and into bed with Natalia. Pietro didn't bother offering to help, the boy more than ready for something eat and to open the new novel James had bought for him at the bookstore. “You three start locking up the house for the night and I’ll be in soon. Be sure to secure the windows so the wind doesn't come through." Tony walked his mount to the stables next to James and and they worked in silence to get the horses all wiped down and given a quick brush, special attention paid to the team that had pulled the heavy wagon for so long-- hooves inspected and noses checked to be sure the bridles hadn't rubbed uncomfortably.

Clean hay was laid down on the floors and a handful of newly bought oats mixed in with the food for the night, water poured into the trough so there was plenty to drink. Tack was sorted and worked through with oil, saddles checked for burrs or thorns and blankets shaken out before being lain over the sides of an empty stall. When it was all said and done, James hung the pitchfork up along the wall and reached for Tony, dragging him up close for a kiss he’d been thinking about all day, greedy and grabby as he spun around to pin Tony to the stable wall, caging the smaller brunette in with his arms before taking his mouth again, thrusting his tongue past Tony’s lips without pausing for a breath. Tony gasped something coaxing and excited, then set his fingers to scrabbling at James’s shirt to yank it from his pants, dragged his nails along the flex of muscles and palmed confidently over the front of James’s trousers, getting his reward in the form of a burst of Russian profanity and an eager push of hips. It was dark in the stables, the scent of sweet hay and night wind and each other filling their heads and their senses and it was so easy to find release right then and there, rutting against each other and the wall, sharing messy kisses that were more teeth and tongue than lips, sharing air and breathing wanton, indecipherable things into each other’s ear, mouthing it into sweat warmed skin. James finished first this time, using the leftover oils on his hand to stroke them together, panting into the curve of Tony’s neck and shaking through his release. Tony followed a minute later, pushed over the edge by the added slick of James’s spend, by the way the soldier’s voice had gone hoarse and lazy and satisfied as he brought Tony over into pleasure as well. And then they stayed huddled together, Tony’s hand in James’s hair and James not willing to straighten up and pull away, breath slowing and bodies cooling until everything had settled into a low simmer of arousal and contentment. “So.” James finally lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple. “This is what we’re doing then?” “So long as it’s just this.” Tony said quietly, tucking himself back into his trousers and wiping his hands on a handful of hay. “You understand?” “Don’t worry.” in the dark, Tony couldn’t tell if James’s smile was amused or melancholy. “My heart is not involved, nor do I want yours to be.” “Alright then.” Despite their words, James’s arm wound around Tony’s waist as they walked from the barn, another kiss or two landing in his hair and before they climbed the stairs, once more on his mouth, James cupping Tony’s jaw lightly and kissing him sweetly before saying goodnight. And just as he fell asleep, Tony thought about the ice in James’s soul, the winter that drove the soldier to such violence. How could so cold a man could have hands so warm, how someone so brittle could make Tony feel hot and liquid with nothing more than a kiss? James lay in his bed across the hall and told himself over and over that their hearts weren't involved, that it was physical and nothing else...

...then closed his eyes and dreamed about all the way he could erase the shadows from deep brown eyes.

*************

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#ncts fics #winteriron #clintasha #widowfalcon #tony stark #james bucky barnes #natalia romanova #sam wilson #clint barton

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captainamericasbeard · 5 years

Text

Starry night

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 1.5k Category: fluff. just pure fluffy fluff Warnings: none

A/N: This is my entry for Day 5 of @ibwhellospring ‘s 31 day short story writing challenge. Today’s prompt was starry night. I’ll put links for each day on my masterlist if you want to catch up.

Masterlist

It’s 7:30 and you’re already clacking away at your computer at the Avengers Compound. Your desk is littered with files crammed full of analytics awaiting your attention. A fresh mug of coffee sits next to the now empty paper cup from your drive into work this morning. Your sweater and purse are slung over your chair and your shoes are kicked off under your desk.

You should be working on one of the files you keep pushing out of the way but instead you’re looking up times and coordinates for tonight’s meteor shower. You’re a bit of a space nerd and tonight’s shower is supposed to be the brightest one in a few years. You’re so engrossed in the screen in front of you, you fail to hear Bucky’s light tread enter the lab. He taps you on the shoulder and you scream, lifting out of your seat. You whirl around with a punch at the ready and it’s caught by Bucky’s metal hand.

“Jesus, Doll! You could hurt someone with that thing,” Bucky says with a smirk. Your hand is at your chest as you try desperately to control your breathing. A feat that’s not normally easy with the super solider around and now the adrenaline isn’t helping.

“Bucky! What is wrong with you! You can’t sneak up on someone like that.” Your hands are shaking and your heart is still pumping.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I honestly thought you heard me. I wasn’t trying to be stealthy.” Bucky takes one of your hands in his and massages it until it stops shaking and then does the same to the other one. You stand there stupidly, not knowing what to do with the extra physical contact. You shift on your feet and Bucky finally drops your hand. “Better?” He asks, his blue eyes searching yours.

“Yes, better.” Your voice is breathy and you know Bucky can pick up on your heart rate. He’s being very polite and ignoring your flustered state. Instead, he glances at the screen behind you. The Eta Aquariid shower? I was just reading up on that. Apparently it's going to be pretty amazing.” Bucky’s eyes lit up and he smiled like an excited school boy. “Are you going to watch it?”

“I’m thinking about it. It means for a pretty early morning, though.” Bucky’s shoulders slump a bit when he hears you wavering in your decision. You quirk an eyebrow at his reaction but don’t say anything.

“What if I promised you really good coffee and post meteor shower waffles?” He asks, blushing lightly. He drops his gaze and then tentatively looks up at you. Your heart had finally settled but now its pounding away again. Is Bucky Barnes asking you out on a date?

“Um, yeah? I mean, yes. That sounds like it could work.” Bucky’s eyes lit up and there was that boyish smile again. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. You were too afraid to ask but you were pretty sure you had a date.

“3 o’clock? I’ll bring the coffee. Meet me on the south lawn?” Bucky asks, grinning.

“Yes. That sounds perfect.” You realize your face hurts from smiling.

“Okay then,” Bucky starts to head for the door, “I’ll see you then.” He can’t bring himself to say the words. It's a date. He’s just too nervous. But he’s already planning out how to make the night perfect.

2:30 rolls around and your alarm is gently prodding you from your sleep. You look at the clock in confusion for a moment and then you remember. A night under the stars with Bucky. You move quickly out of bed and to the closet, pulling out a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. The man is handsome but you're not about to get dolled up for him at 3 in the morning. You have your limits. You splash water on your face and do something with your hair. Soon you're pulling on your boots and grabbing your purse as you head out the door.

You pull onto the driveway lining the south lawn and you have to rub your eyes at the sight that awaits you. Cozy blankets lay on the ground and folding chairs set up with more blankets drape over them. A tray with a carafe of coffee, mugs, cream, and sugar on a small folding table between the two chairs. A monstrous telescope with digital input for coordinates set up next to the blanket. And Bucky, bent over and fussing with the telescope. You walk up to the scene that awaits you and Bucky turns to you smiling. He’s wearing low slung sweats and a light henley and your heart flutters at the sight.

“Hey, darlin’” The term of endearment sets your heart racing again.

“Hey Bucky. This looks… you did all this?” You know you have a dopey smile on your face but you don’t even care.

“Yeah, I mean, I dragged you here in the dead of night, I wanted to make it… special.” He drops his eyes as he finishes. Oh god, you realize, he’s nervous!

“It’s perfect, Buck. I love it.” You give him the most sincere smile and he looks up at you and visibly relaxes.

“How about some of that coffee I promised? I think the shower’s starting.” Above you the night sky streaks with incandescent light, drawing your eyes upwards in wonder.

“Yes please,” you reply as you settle into one of the folding chairs and wrap a cozy blanket around your shoulders. You figure Bucky must have brought them from his room because his smell immediately surrounds and intoxicates you. You reactively breathe him deep; he’s all sunshine and the earth and spring rains. Bucky hands you your coffee, prepared just the way you like it you notice, and he settles into the seat next to you.

You watch the stars in silence for some time and then it’s small talk that you never get around to at your desk. Your family and his siblings, favorite things and funny stories, then a little deeper into tender hopes and unrequited dreams. The kind of talk that only happens in whispers in the dead of night. You gradually fall silent again. The shower starts to peter out as the sun starts to hint at its coming. You glance at Bucky to find him watching you and you grow shy under his steady gaze. You search around for something to say and land on the telescope.

“What’s the telescope for?” You ask quietly.

“Oh yeah!” Bucky pops up and grabs your hand, leading you to the machine. You nearly loose your footing at the feeling of his skin on yours. “Venus is really bright tonight. I thought you’d like to see it up close.” He drops your hand and you step up to the telescope excitedly. Your eyes are greeted by a surprisingly detailed image of the mellow little planet.

A laugh falls from your lips at the sight and you turn to Bucky. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t fathom and as you stand he steps closer and gently pulls your face to his. He pauses for a moment to give you a chance to pull away but when you don’t he lets his lips sink into your own. It’s gentle and quiet at first but quickly the storm brews. He places his hand at your lower back and presses you closer to him. Your hands move up his firm chest, around his neck and into his hair. His lips move faster now and his tongue begs for entrance at the door of your mouth, which you gladly grant him. The taste of him fills you up and leaves you feeling empty at the same time. You need more of him.

Finally gasping the two of you break away and Bucky presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed, delivering a few more light pecks to your lips and the tip of your nose.

“That was…” you trail off.

“Yeah,” Bucky supplies, “yeah it was.”

And then you’re both a fit of giggles under the lightening sky as the birds begin to sing their praises. You slide your hands down his arms to hold his hands and you smile at him contentedly. “I believe I was promised waffles?” You say coyly. Bucky just laughs.

“Yes you were,” he affirms, “shall we move this inside?” He clasps his hand firmly around yours and picks up the coffee tray, leading the way into the compound.

“I’ll follow you wherever Bucky, so long as you keep kissing me like that,” you say blushing.

“You can count on it, Doll,” Bucky responds with a smirk and a wink and you know you’re done for. All it took was one starry night.

#ibw: hello spring 2019 #ibwhellospringday5 #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel drabble #marvel imagine #Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky drabble #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky reader insert

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modernmisterdarcy · 4 years

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Trouble on the Horizon

As he sat across from Miss King, and the full implications of her actions began to dawn upon him. The scene had been ugly, and what was worse, there was a witness. Caroline had been quiet and fairly inconspicuous throughout the visit, but Adrian had known the King family long enough to know that the servant girl was a gossip. Though there'd only been four people present in the room during the scene, far, far more than that would know of it before the day was done. And likely the recounting of it would be embellished to sound even worse-- if possible- than it actually had been.

“No, no! Please, do stay. If you’re feeling up to it, that is,” said Miss King.

Adrian considered. While he felt more well than he had in perhaps a week or more, the shame he felt was sickening in its own right. It settled in his stomach, burning hot as any fever, and whatever appetite he might've had, had vanished utterly. He did not touch the scone offered to him, and instead demurred.

“I beg your pardon, Miss King, I have but little appetite these days,” he said stiffly.

The conversation seemed to be taking a turn for more pleasant topics, but Adrian found he was in no mood to continue. In fact, the longer he sat with Miss King, the lower his heart sank, until it resided somewhere around his ankles. As if reading his thoughts, Miss King abandoned her diatribe about agricultural chemistry to address the more pressing topic.

“Please forgive my behavior. I know I shouldn’t have, but I simply couldn’t help myself. It pained me to see the way he regarded you, and I knew you would not mar your reputation while in my presence. Yet, it was not my place; I am sorry if I offended you in any way,” said she.

Adrian forced a tight-lipped smile.

“I am well accustomed to my brother's penchant for bad behavior,” said the Duke. “However, Miss King, I must admit to being shocked at your apparent willingness to sink to his very level.” The forced smile turned a bit sad, and he met her eyes. “Forgive my saying so, but I must confess, though I believe Toby rather deserved some abuse, I am disappointed it was such a fine lady as you whom meted it out to him.”

With that, the Duke took up his walking-stick.

“I believe I have overstayed my welcome today, Miss King. I should be going.” He stood with a little trepidation, and took up his hat, bowing and tipping it to her. “I wish you good day, madam. I shall... show myself out.”

With that, the Duke went out to his carriage, feeling far heavier in his chest than he would have thought possible. During the short ride home, he reviewed the ugly scene in his mind, wondering what had caused Toby to suddenly behave like a commoner in a pub, and why on God's green earth did Miss King respond in kind? And further, why was Adrian so upset about it? He felt near tears when he arrived at his own home, and immediately sat down at his writing-desk to pen a note to the Earl. Rather he hear it from a friend, first, before the gossip reached him.

My dear Alexandros,

I am compelled to write you on a very serious and unfortunate matter. It so happens that, during our visit this afternoon, words transpired between my brother Tobias and your daughter.

My brother was behaving in his usual manner, though something about Miss King's presence inspired in him even greater depths of vulgarity and insolence. Truly I have never witnessed him behave so badly in mixed company before, making remarks of such a base and sexual nature as to shock me to my core. I declare I nearly fainted.

Even more shocking, however, was that Tobias provoked your daughter to respond in kind. Having thought her a charming and genteel young lady, I am perplexed by her behavior this afternoon. She behaved almost as badly as Tobias, in the end. I can only think that her rearing in the country was far coarser than we can imagine.

I implore you, my dear friend, to have a very serious talk with Miss King. I confess I had come to admire her, however, my admiration has been dimmed. I cannot abide by such shocking behavior, even in such an intimate gathering as we had. Your maidservant, Caroline, was witness to the entire affair. I thought it best you have the news from me before it reached you via the usual gossip channels. No doubt the story will be distorted as it travels. One can only imagine what people will hear transpired today.

Be well, my friend,

Sincerely,

Adrian

The Duke had his note to the Earl posted immediately, and retired to the library to rest, and read, and try for a time to forget the whole ugly affair.

Meanwhile, in a pub across town, Tobias was very drunk, and having a very good time recounting the tale to a group of lascivious listeners. For his own part, Toby was deeply upset by the whole situation, and could only cope by making light of it.

For he had, at first, hated Miss King. He thought her a dull and simpering sort of creature who only wanted to impress the Duke because she knew he was a bachelor. Then, he had seen a glimmer of genuine caring for Adrian, a sort of tender response to the Duke's condition, a genuine regard for his personage, which was bad enough, to see a lady beginning to feel something for his brother. But then he had seen Adrian respond to her, with sparkling regard in his eyes, and how the Duke paid her more mind than he had paid any girl in ages, and it inspired in Toby a perverse species of jealousy. How dare she earn his brother's positive regard when Toby, his own brother, never had it in the first place? It wasn't fair, and it was this twisted jealous feeling which had provoked his wretched behavior.

Then, to make matters worse, Eirene had gone and endeared herself to Toby.

It was the most baffling thing. One moment, he had halfway hated the girl and cared not a whit for her; the next moment, after she showed her razor-sharp wit and positively wild disregard for social custom, Tobias felt a glimmer of positive regard for her in his heart. He felt it even more keenly when he saw how shocked and appalled his brother had been. He thought of how angry Eirene had been, how positively incensed, and Toby wanted nothing more than to see her again, and see how quickly again he could bring out that careless, rebellious streak in her.

The pub patrons roared with laughter as Tobias recounted the rather bawdy exchanged between them, embellishing, of course, wherever he could. It kicked off a round of the other patrons telling their favorite stories of vulgar flirtations with their favorite belles, which carried them well into the evening. Around seven o'clock, however, Tobias made a point of going home, for he wished to see Adrian before he went to sleep, anticipating a rousing fight with him.

But Toby returned to find his brother so distracted and depressed that he had but little enthusiasm for fighting with Toby.

“I am but deeply, desperately disappointed in you, boy,” said the Duke, gazing into the fire. “I have never been so ashamed to call you my brother.”

“I'm sorry--” Toby began, but Adrian cut him off with a sharp shake of his head.

“You can say nothing to mollify me. Get out of my sight.”

Get out of my sight, cut Tobias like a knife. More often than not, Adrian was more than willing to fight with him, but to be cast aside like a bit of rubbish was almost more than Toby could bear. He had hoped for a rousing argument, but instead, got nothing. Tobias skulked off to his room, and settled into bed with a nip of brandy, dozing off far earlier than usual.

Over the next week or so, there was a pall over the Wolfe house. Adrian's depression never lifted. In fact, the closer they came to Miss King's party, the less enthusiasm the Duke had for anything.

Truly, Adrian was dreading the party. He hadn't the nerve to call on Miss King in the interim, and he would've preferred not to attend at all. But he must. He and the Earl were close friends, and for Adrian not to be in attendance at his daughter's coming-out party would have raised far too many eyebrows. It would have been presumed there was something amiss between the Duke and his friend, rather than the Duke wanting to avoid the daughter.

Instead, Adrian promised himself he'd only speak to Miss King as much as decorum dictated he must. He would be civil, he would be gentle, and he would not, under any circumstances, allow her to cause certain feelings to be rekindled in his heart.

“Upon my word, Tobias,” said Adrian, in the carriage on the way to Miss King's party, “I can smell the wine on you already.”

“I must take it for my nerves,” said Tobias, joking, but without mirth. “You ought to try it sometime, it'll loosen you up, old boy.”

“What? And risk acting like you? Not hardly,” the Duke sniffed.

“No need to be unkind, Adrian,” said Toby, sipping from a flask he'd stowed in his jacket. “Would you like a nip? You look pale.��

“I always look pale, you great ruddy git,” Adrian snapped, feeling rankled far sooner than he ought to have. It had been a trying week on his nerves, and Toby reminding him that he was ill and pathetic helped him not at all. “Please keep your remarks to yourself if you cannot say anything polite or useful.”

“Oh, but wouldn't that detract from my roguish charm?” said Tobias.

“It'd detract from your reputation of being an utter ass,” parried the Duke. “Do please try tonight, Toby, I beg of you. Be on your good behavior. Do not embarrass me!”

“Would that I could promise you anything of the kind. But I've told you before, old boy, I... I cannot control myself.” Toby gazed out the window at the approaching King house. “When I go out, my tongue runs riot, and it is as if I am watching from outside myself while every wrong word comes out of me. At times, I wish I were dead rather than go on this way.”

“Tobias! You mustn't say such things,” Adrian scolded, discomfited by his brother's sudden vulnerability. “Pull yourself together, we're here.”

With that, the carriage came to a halt. The footman opened the door, and held the Duke's arm to steady him as he disembarked. Toby came behind him, and they were shown up the front steps of the King house. The Duke, for his own part, was determined to recover the lost goodwill between himself and Miss King to whatever extent possible, while Toby, with his blood already warm, sensed that he was about to do or say something disastrous. His hatred for Miss King, his complex and amorphous hatred of her beautiful face, her charming laugh, her vivacious personality, and her love for his brother, was coiled within him, like a snake. He could sense it within him, waiting to strike, and that wretched propensity to say and do the wrong thing in every moment sat beside, the perfect co-conspirator for trouble on this very important night.

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fanesavin · 5 years

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In the confinement of the keep spirits are stirred by House Kesley and Lady Lacroy, a rumoured witch, is accused culpable of the High Raj’s passing.

@faye-andrews / @mayaparker / @bumblingbrujo / @cassiegermaine

Faye had stayed mostly to her rooms since meeting with Ciara previously. She didn’t wish to be seen wandering the streets alone, looking as if she was confused as to where she should be. Taking refuge in a balcony overlooking the markets. The air was brisk here, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Every moment she was in the city was another moment that she had no idea what would happen next. She wanted to flee, but that would only make her look guilty.

The clamor came gradually, bits of sound and scuffling from the lower regions of the keep. Raised voices and the smell of burning pitch carried on the wind blowing through the walkways of the keep. A trio of minor lords, their faces angry and their weapons ready to be drawn, marched with a small group of frightened looking servants up through the keep to find the first file of guards protecting the inquisition chambers. “Step aside and let us pass,” the man in charge of the small table told the guards. “There’s treachery gone unpunished within these walls, and we won’t stand by any longer and watch these… these monsters bewitch our lords and ladies. Poison our brave men. Plot to wield their dark craft to take our souls and murder our children in their beds.” The lords behind him rallied the same cry, while the servants stood nervously, holding kitchen knives and rolling pins. Anything they could grab as they’d been sussed out of the kitchens. The guards merely looked on impassively. “Go back to your chambers, my lord. Before there is trouble.”

Miguel noticed the smell first. Anything that obscured the smell of sea breeze bothered him. But that wasn’t the worst part. The clamor, the sounds that came before the clash of metal-on-metal came. And Miguel followed it quickly. It was those damned House Kesley troublemakers, and a couple other minor Lords. But there were only two guards at the door to the Inquisition Chambers - and three angry looking men. Miguel could help a bit, though it seemed they were past the part where he crossed his arms - one hand went to the hilt of his sword, and the other behind his back - itching to grab one of his obsidian daggers. “Is there a problem here?” he asked.

Maya left Lord Savin’s chamber. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself for the moment. Luckily, the sounds of someone shouting drew her attention. Slipping a hand into her pocket to grip the handle of her stiletto, she followed the noises. As she got closer she realized that it was folks from House Kelsey trying to stir up trouble. She didn’t get there first though. That honor went to the younger Lord Cardero. “And you lot,” she addressed the servants as she approached the crowd as well, “trying to get yourselves thrown into cells as well?”

The smell of torches hit Faye like a hammer. One never forgets such a thing, even years later. She peered out the side of the balcony to see the small horde tromping towards the top of the keep, yelling for blood. Witch blood. She pressed herself back against the wall, breathing hard and hoping they wouldn’t see her. Meanwhile, the lords turned to Miguel. “The problem is that those two witches are still running free! Doing who knows what with their evil influence. And none of you are doing anything about it!”

Miguel chuckled, it would either agitate them or break the tension. He didn’t mind either way. “And you think, what? They have control of every House? And why are you immune to their charms?”

Fane heard the commotion going on outside from his descent of the staircase, his head turning a little. But the call from below was rather clear. Frowning his hand went to the pommel of his blade as he cut out across one of the corridors followed by two of his own swords. It was upon emerging that he noticed Faye pressing herself into the wall breathing hard and looking on the verge of panic. “Lady Lacroy?” He heard Miguel’s voice nearby and hoped the young Lordling had a handle on the situation.

“We’re immune because we’re aware of their trickery!” the lord yelled over the rest of the voices. The servants at the back glanced towards Maya as she spoke the them. “We just do as our lord say, m'lady…” one of them pleaded. “We don’t want no trouble..”

Faye heard her name called and looked up to see Lord Savin looking at her. She shook her head, insisting that he just leave her be… that she was fine.

Miguel laughed. A harsh sound from deep in his chest. “The arrogance of House Kesley knows no bounds. If they were truly witches, you would be hexed just as much as the rest of us. But alas, you’re stupid enough to believe otherwise.” He glared at them, his dark eyes just as hard and sharp as the obsidian he and his brother carried. “And what, pray tell, is your plan now?”

Maya nodded, “I understand. But if your lord decides to start a fight, you all are more likely to executed than he is for it.” She gestured with her head towards the hallway behind her, “Let’s start with giving these lords a little space to work it out.”

The lord that seemed to be leading the charge stepped slightly forwards, his eyes bright with purpose. “House Kesley is the /only/ house that sees the truth. Open your eyes! The city is under siege from within! Our Raj is dead… at the same time as these creatures are allowed to roam the halls. Sit on the council!” HE looked desperate, but still frighteningly angry. “Our plan is to make the High Inquisitor interrogate these witches, and if he won’t see reason, if the rest of you won’t see reason….” He shook his head, touching his own blade. “Then measures will be taken.”

Fane had been about to ask Faye to come with him away from the area, but one of the Lordlings in the little congregated mob noticed him above, and, with whom he was stood. “Look!” he called to those rallied with him, “the Inquisitor has the witch!” As the call went up from below Fane cursed a blue streak under his breath.

Faye shook her head, silently pleading with Fane to leave her and go. She would be fine as long as she stayed hidden. The servants were already looking to ease away from the ruckus, drawn by Maya’s good sense, but then… Faye’s blood ran cold.

Miguel’s jaw clenched and his hand tightened around his weapons. He wouldn’t be the first to draw his sword, but he so badly wanted to. He wanted to wipe the useless House Kesley off the face of the earth for what they did to his poor sister-in-law. As they saw Fane and started yelling, Miguel got ready for a fight. There was no way he saw this turning around, not when they were so adamant for witch blood. Not when Miguel had promised to support Faye if things came down to it.

Maya’s gaze darted to the Lords and Lady who now had the attention of the crowd. “If she is a witch, that’s not a fight I would want to get in to,” she said, again talking only to the servants. She understood having to serve one’s master, but it wasn’t worth losing your life over. Especially not when House Kelsey wasn’t going to come out of this Inquisition well after all they had done. At least, perhaps, she could save a few people from harm.

Faye knew not everyone in the city hated her. She knew that her presence was only a bad omen for a few. She knew that there were people here who would be her allies if it came to it. But it only took a few to incite panic. To incite enough violence that one life - however innocent - wasn’t worth the trouble. So as one of the lords moved towards the Inquisitor, sane enough still not to draw on the man, Faye stood and backed away. “Put her in irons!” the man yelled. “Question her like all the others! The deadwoods woman too!”

Fane looked between the scene unfolding below and Faye, he grimaced especially as she moved away. He turned to look at her his expression reading one that ultimately said, trust me. Before he turned to one of the approaching lordlings. He stood his ground, firm and unmoving “my lords, I advise you to consider carefully what will happen should you choose to draw weapons on not only the High Inquisitor and his men, but a Prince of the realm… I can assure you, it shall not end well for you if you decide to take this route.”

The lord balked as the Inquisitor warned him of the consequences. By this time, most of the servants had been able to slip away in the ruckus, leaving the three lords looking murderous. The one standing before Miguel seemed to be the most blood-crazed, and as the prince set his hand upon his blade, he flinched, hand setting to his own blade, ignorant of the Inquisitors words to the other lord. Faye could only stare with wide eyes at Fane as he asked her to trust him. What he said to the lord was true. If they drew on him or the prince… there would be bloodshed. “How can you defend her!? She’s bewitched you, hasn’t she?? HASN’T SHE??!!!” The lord took a lunging step towards the Inquisitor, trying to reach past him for Faye, to snatch her from the alcove.

As one of the servants passed her, Maya asked to borrow their frying pan. She’d already caused enough problems, but a frying pan was far less lethal than her stiletto. Luckily too, no one was paying her much attention. She weighed the frying pan in her hand as she listened to the Lord accuse Lord Savin of being bewitched by Lady Lacoy. As the man from House Kelsey took a step forward Maya hurled the frying pan, hitting him square in the back. “Now, you can’t be that dumb, sir,” she said.

Fane sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered moving with swift precision, and while he was relatively only lightly armed he was quick to duck under the lunge. The Lord, equally distracted by being hit with a frying pan began to turn, only to be bowled onto his backside by Fane’s tackle.

Miguel The man in front of Miguel perceived the clamor he heard from his peers as the start of the fight, and quickly drew his sword. Miguel on the other hand, who was facing the clamor - was impressed by the possibly noble servant’s bravery. But annoyed that this seemed to be a ‘take them alive’ kind of battle. While one hand stayed on the hilt of his sword, the other let the dagger fly, into the thigh of the Kesley in front of him.

Faye flinched back as the man lunged for her, but there was a solid thunk to his back and he stumbled forwards only to have the Inquisitor take him to the ground. She looked over Fane’s head to see Maya standing there, she looked to where someone had just screamed in pain near where Miguel was standing. She looked at the fleeing servants, the fluttering torch in the hand of the lord who had been in the middle of everything… Faye ran. But someone caught her arm. And then the other. Guards coming up the corridor after news of the ruckus spread. They held her tight, not letting her leave even as she struggled. The Lord that had started it all let out a cry of pain as Miguel’s dagger planted itself in his thigh. At the clear sign of agression, and roused beyond reason by everything, he pulled the dagger from his leg and swiped at the prince.

Maya saw the man go for a dagger and shouted, “Knife,” in an attempt to warn the Miguel. She didn’t know if it was fast enough to properly warn him, but at least she had tried. “So you are that stupid then sir,” she said. If there weren’t so many guards around she would’ve thrown her stiletto too, but all things considered she should probably let someone else handle it.

Fane looked down at the Lord on the floor, who upon hearing his compatriot cry out in anguish seemed to become incensed. He rolled over and staggered to his feet, drawing his sword clumsily from his belt. In the time he was trying to draw his blade, Fane kneed him and struck him across the temple with the pommel of the short blade. Promptly dropping him down to the floor and turning to the third man in the fray who had a sword in one hand and a torch in the other. “Now, do you have more sense?” Fane asked his answer came in the form of a arcing strike of razor edged steel.

The damn Kesley couldn’t just stay down. But that was fine by Miguel. There were no doubts now, about who the aggressor was. He dodged away from his own dagger and finally pulled out his broadsword - obsidian with the sharpness of the mineral, but with a gleam of gold in the middle, that shifted like lava inside the blade as he swung it. The Kesley raised his sword to block, but the dark enchanted blade left a nick in the steel. While Iann was being a bit hyperbolic about the blade from the Forty Isles cutting steel like butter, it hadn’t been a lie.

Faye watched it all escalate into chaos. Swords and blood and violence… as it always was. Even though the group was small, only three men, it seemed so much more than that. She sagged in the grip of the guards, hot tears tracking down her face as the men wouldn’t stop. All because they wanted her. “Stop! Please! Enough bloodshed!!” she cried out desperately.

Fane weaved his way out of the deadly arc, letting a couple of his guards intervene. The man was pommelled in the face and shoved to the ground, the blades levelled at his chest leaving him with the clear incentive that if he moved again he would be run clean through. He looked over to Miguel, curious to see how the young prince fared.

Miguel was a little too slow as the Kesley boy pulled his sword back and pushed forward, aiming for his face. There was a sharp pain in his cheek, but he swung as well, and his blade buried itself in his opponent’s side, between two ribs, under his armpit.

The Kesley dropped his sword and Miguel pulled away, taking his blade with him - leaving an open wound that bled freely and brought the Kesley to his knees.

The fallen man looked up at Miguel, holding a hand over the blood that was rapidly seeping from the wound. “I have… become… a martyr. You will… see.” He coughed bloody foam. “You will… all… see…”

Maya muttered something about how she wasn’t sure that was how matyrdom worked. Now that the scuffle was over though, she finally stepped closer to everyone else. She pulled a kerchief from her pocked as well and offered it to Miguel.

Fane was impressed, the young prince knew how to handle himself. He gave a short nod of his head, indicating the guards to pick up the other assailants and move them to kneel in a line near the man Miguel had felled. The sound of Faye crying though gave him pause and he looked over to Miguel. “I leave it to you m'lord, to decide what justice they are served…” He returned his dirk to its scabbard and frowned at the guards securing her. “Release Lady Lacroy at once, she’s done nothing wrong here… And if another person so much as dares lay a hand on her without her express permission I’ll see to it you face my own brand of personal justice.”

Fane waited and once the guards had released her from their hold stepped in slowly hands out to help steady her if she required the assistance. “Faye?” it was perhaps the first time he’d used her actual name, not that he noticed particularly.

The wounded lord crumpled into a heap, breathing fast and ragged as his lifesblood ran across the stones. In his mind, he had done what was needed. Sparked the first flames of true justice in the keep. Even if that was far from the actual truth.

Miguel smiled at the plucky girl who had used the frying pan, but shook his head. He didn’t want to bloody her kerchief. He also wasn’t going to argue with a dying man. So he let the Kesley bleed out without a word, instead he wiped his blade with his sleeve - but didn’t sheath it yet. The Inquisitor was handing him entirely too much power, and he didn’t want it, not yet at least. Not when Iann could argue it in an hour or so. “I think Lady Lacroy has been upset by enough bloodshed today. Take him somewhere to be held until the Quiver can meet again and decide what to do with him,” he told the guards, making the decision not to decide. It would be a different matter if the events had transpired on his ships, or his land, or anywhere but the castle really. But the circumstances as they were…

Maya only shrugged and pocketed her kerchief again when Miguel refused it. Her attention was much more taken by Lord Savin and Lady Lacroy. There was something else going on there although she couldn’t yet put a finger on what. Still, she raised an eyebrow when Lord Savin used the woman’s first name. She thought too that he was going to have to question Lady Lacroy anyway, at least to prevent another scene like this one. However, that was council she would keep to herself in mixed company.

Faye: The guards released Faye as their leader commanded it, giving a dip of their heads as they turned her to his care. They turned to the prince instead, gathering up the remaining Kesley dissenters and dragging them away to be imprisoned. Faye simply stood there, watching the dark run of blood over the stones ,trembling slightly. When Fane’s hands brushed her arms,she flinched, butupon seeing him she just shook her head in a small, barely there gesture.

Miguel looked over the Plucky One, once the the Kesleys were cleared from the scene. “Are you alright?” He asked. “And what is your name?” He wanted to stop having to refer to her as the Plucky One in his head. “And did anyone ever decide on what title manners dictate for you?” He remembered some of the drama surrounding her and the Red Priestess the night before, but had deemed it unimportant at the time.

Maya turned her attention to the youngest of House Cardero as Lord Savin led Lady Lacroy away. “I’m perfectly alright, thank you sir,” she replied. She turned a little more to face him, no longer sure exactly what the answer to that question was. She stood perfectly straight, eyes still dark and stoic. “My name is Maya and I am still merely a servant in Lord Savin’s household,” she settled on, “Any other titles I might’ve had are irrelevant.”

Miguel nodded. If she didn’t want to accept any titles, that was her business. Maya would suffice. “Maya, I’m happy to drop the formalities, if that would make you happy. You handled yourself marvellously. I would like to thank you for your help.” He bowed his head slightly, respectfully.

Maya “I don’t know if happy is the world I would use, but I don’t mind,” Maya replied, “Does this mean I should refer to you as Miguel from now on?” She nodded at his thanks and said, “It seemed an awful waste for more innocent blood to be shed.”

Miguel chuckled. Maybe he would keep thinking of her as the Pucky One in the privacy of his own head, that was the best title for her. “If you want, you can call me Miguel.” He agreed with her. “And unfair to the servants who were just following their sorry excuses for Lords.” If there was any justice in the world, maybe he could get the Quiver to revoke the rights of House Kesley, they had shown themselves useless at governance, and unfit to lead. “Do you often fight by frying pan?”

Maya half smirked, “If I want. Interesting.” She nodded her agreement that it was unfair to servants to be punished for the behaviors of their masters. “I try to avoid fighting if i can help it,” she said, “But a frying pan works as well as most things in a pinch.”

Cassie had heard the noise and discord outside. Her initial response was to go and investigate, but when she saw the Kesley sigil and swords drawn through one of the large stained glass windows, Cassandra stepped back and watched the scene unfold into inevitable bloodshed. The few surviving Kesley’s were dragged away, and that’s when Cassie approached Miguel and Maya. “So the Kesley’s are official suspects then?” She asked gravely, “Is everyone alright?”

Miguel laughed at Maya’s comment about the frying pan. But she was right. A heavy frying pan made as good a weapon as any. Miguel visibly relaxed in the presence of his sister-in-law: he sheathed his sword, and his shoulders dropped. “Yes, thanks to Maya here, there were very few casualties. Only the damn Kesleys got injured.” And then one hand went to his cheek, which was still bleeding. “Well, I got a scratch, but nothing to concern yourself over.” He wiped the blood away and glanced between the two women. “Lady Lacroy seemed… emotionally perturbed by the fighting.”

Maya curtsied when Lady Germaine joined them, a force of habit. She noted the way Miguel relaxed in the presence of Cassandra. “I think anyone would be emotionally perturbed by being accused of both witchcraft and of the murder of the High Raj,” she replied. Although Lady Lacroy’s obvious distaste for the violence lowered her potential as a suspect in Maya’s mind. Whoever killed the High Raj had to have known that whatever the outcome would be it wouldn’t be peaceful.

“Lady Lacroy was accused?” Cassie had not been present for that moment, and crossed her arms, “So it’s turned into a witch hunt then has it?” But that wasn’t Cassie’s main concern, her eyes narrowing slightly on the slice in Miguel’s cheek. “The Kesley’s are a plague. They’ve certainly proved we’d all be safer without them around.”

Miguel nodded in agreement. “The Kesley’s are a plague. And none of them have any sense. The next time the Quiver meets you should bring up getting their House rights revoked.” It would come easier if Cassie suggested it. If she was the one that voiced it, then Iann would happily throw his weight behind her.

#got scene

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