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the-queen-and-the-king · 3 months

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5-A long day

Summary: Some months have passed and Emily is now waiting the end of the day at Quantico when her lover is still working. Their life have changed a lot but no one knows for them. Yet.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss (and a tiny bit of JJ)

Contents: mostly introspective thinking (Emily's pov), mention of sex but it's trully a huge fluffy slice of life.

This text is a part of a "What if?" self-challenge named: Seven days only. The pitch is: "What if Aaron discovered all by himself that Emily was sent to France when she was under witness protection and decided to tell her the truth about his feelings for her?" I limited myself to seven texts for this AU in a nutshell. Hope you'll like it. :)

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

“Shall I take you home?” asked JJ, her bag already slung over her shoulder.

Emily looked up from her screen and, displaying her most sincere pained expression, replied:

“No, I have to finish this report. And since I need to get an answer to my e-mail for that, it's going to take a little longer.”

“Are you sure? I don't think anyone will mind if you return it tomorrow.”

“I know, but I need to get this thing done. Don’t worry. Go home and take care of your little puppy. And of Henry too.”

The former liaison officer laughed before resuming:

“How will you get home?”

“I’ll take a cab.”

The wiry blonde glanced in the direction of the desk that towered above all the others, and her interlocutor concentrated all her strength not to imitate her. Her friend turned her attention back to her and, smiling, wished her a pleasant evening.

“Send me a message to let me know if I should pick you up tomorrow,” she said as we pushed open the glass doors.

“Sure. Good evening, JJ.”

She watched her call the elevator and climb into the cabin, then huffed. It had been five months since the whole team had heard about her pregnancy – and she had received many congratulations for it – and two months since the same scheme had been repeated with the BAU’s new profiler. Since Emily could no longer see her feet, driving had become an impossible practice for her, and more dangerous than ever. Her colleague reacted exactly as she'd expected, taking care of her and advising her as much as she could through this adventure she'd been on before. Elizabeth Prentiss’ daughter appreciated these attentions, but regularly rebuffed them. Because she hadn't been entirely frank with her coworkers.

Indeed, she and Aaron had quickly established that, to avoid waves and preserve harmony within the group, it was best to keep their relationship a secret. So, for all of them, the babies' father was a Frenchman she'd met along the way, with whom she'd had a short – but intense – affair before their paths diverged. She found out afterwards that she was pregnant. And since she hadn't wanted to relive the trauma of her adolescence, she'd made the decision to keep it. Well, them. A story that left everyone feeling sorry for herself and discouraged the most curious from asking any more questions. They all immediately offered to help her in one way or another to face the ordeal ahead. All of them, including Aaron, who had had to play along to keep the illusion.

But it went much further than that. In the months since her announcement to her lover, much had changed for them without anyone at the FBI knowing. Officially, they still lived at their respective addresses – known to HR and Penelope, who kept an eye on the slightest changes in their personnel files – but, in reality, for the past three months they had been living in a larger apartment, much more able to accommodate everyone. They had prospected on their own, made visits in their spare time, and signed the papers in due form without sending them to their joint employer. And, despite the expense involved, they had not terminated their contracts for their primary living quarters, so that no one would suspect a thing. They even had their landlines transferred to their cell phones, so they could be reached even though they were in a different part of Washington DC.

All this had a cost, of course, and not just financial. This required them to perpetually juggle lies and maneuvers to cloud the issue. They'd lost count of the number of times they'd had to justify their absence when one of the agents had dropped in unannounced at their old addresses. Just as she'd lost count of the number of times she'd found herself at the foot of her old apartment building, calling out to Aaron to pick her up and take her to where she really lived. Or, conversely, all those mornings he'd dropped her off there before slipping away for JJ or Penelope to take charge of driving her to Quantico. So many twists and turns that were gradually eating away at her strength.

And then there had been all those convivial moments with the team – birthdays, lunches, dinners, brunches or simply stops at the pub to blow off some steam – when they'd been dying to hold hands, hug, kiss or do some activity together, but had had no option but to restrain themselves. They had agreed not to sit side by side, to watch their partner dance or sing with a third person, to refuse to join forces with their spouse to face the others and, above all, to continue to call each other by name. Every single time. Like before. When they were still guided by their professional conscience and feared that the mention of their first name would cause them to slip up. The few exceptions they had allowed themselves had only been for show and had frustrated them more than ever. Their feelings were incompatible with Bureau policy.

Fortunately, everything else was going well. Jack had known about it, of course, since the very next day, and had greeted the news with shouts of joy throughout the living room. His dream of being a big brother came true, twice. And the fact that it was she who gave him this gift made him very happy, because he loved her "very, very much". The implications of all this went right over his head, and there was something soothing about this viewpoint for the couple. He didn't call Emily anything other than by her first name, but Aaron had reassured her that things would change with the arrival of the little ones, and that one day, without anything announcing it and without it seeming strange to anyone, he would address her differently. She couldn't wait for this day to finally arrive.

Ada Hotchner and Elizabeth Prentiss also knew – and, by implication, so did the director's entire family, with news circulating at the speed of light among those closest to him. The two grandmothers-to-be had begun by reacting more or less positively to their relationship. Ada was relieved and pleased to discover her son's companion – of whom she had a better opinion than the first – while Elizabeth hesitated to express herself, having retained a mixed memory of the ex-prosecutor – efficient, for sure, but endowed with behavior that was strange, to say the least. Then they gave a pinched look when they heard about the surprise pregnancy. Their gaze instinctively turned to the only man in the room at that moment, as if he had been solely responsible. But both were wondering how the profiler could be three months pregnant with his child, while ninety days earlier, she was on a trip around the world for one and six feet under for the other. And that he was normally unaware of the details of her protection. The couple glossed over this aspect of the story to emphasize that the fetuses were doing just fine.

Which was the truth. This is all the more welcome given that twin pregnancies were subject to numerous risks, for both babies and mothers. When Emily had started her Internet research, she had quickly closed her browser to avoid further stress. Between placental irrigation defects, dominant fetuses that starved their roommates, strangling umbilical cords and premature births, she'd gotten her money's worth; something she'd immediately regretted. Especially since, ultrasound after ultrasound, all the tests had come back positive. Their creations flourished in their respective bubbles, pedaling happily in the amniotic fluid, playing with their neighbors, and growing serenely in that warm, protective womb. They now had less room to perform their acrobatics, but they were developing well.

Pleasant news that calmed the lovers, eager to see the newborns in the flesh, but also enjoying the calm before the storm. Because if there was one thing Emily's extra pounds hadn't stopped, it was their desire for each other. By Sunday, she'd moved in with Aaron to be by his side while they found the perfect place for a couple and three kids. And she had tasted the pleasure of this return to her love to unite with him as much as possible. In his own home, but also in others', discreetly slipping away from some informal gathering into rooms and miscellaneous parts of places that weren't theirs to indulge their erotic urges. And if the unit leader had been reluctant to take her out into the field – as he'd once done for JJ – he'd given in to the fact that if he'd bent for the blonde, there was no reason why he shouldn't bow for the brunette. It was a decision he'd taken reluctantly, but one he appreciated every night they had sex in the hotels reserved for their investigations. In turn, they quietly entered each other's rooms, celebrated the chance that had brought them together, or even booked another room at their own expense, away from those of their federal neighbors, to take full advantage of their partner's body. In short, they had fully enjoyed the presence of their accomplice.

And Emily had been waiting too long for the bullpen to empty so she could be reunited with her lover. She'd been looking forward to seeing him since this morning. He'd had to leave ahead of time for a meeting at FBI headquarters and had reappeared only briefly before the lunch break. She had hoped to have lunch with him – and the rest of the team – but he had been harpooned by the manager of an agency three floors below. He then spent most of his time in his den, either on the phone or by videoconference. JJ and Penelope had brought him food and water, but she couldn't wait to admire his figure, breathe in his scent, and feel his warmth beneath her fingers. And maybe that time had come. She scanned the surroundings. All the cubicles were empty, the screens off, and the coat racks bare. With her heart leaping in her chest, she stood up, slowly climbed the banister, and entered the room.

There he was, standing in front of his desk, his back to the entrance. He was absorbed in reading a file. She smiled and knocked on the open door. He flinched and turned around. His closed face immediately lit up with a radiant smile and she felt invigorated as never before. She moved towards him and placed a kiss on his lips. He held her and prolonged the contact, much to her delight.

“Are you all right?” he inquired, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Apart from the fact that I have two middle-distance runners in my belly, I'm fine.”

“Thank goodness it's almost over,” he said, his palm pressed against her distended skin.

“Don’t say that. They’re fine where they are.”

“Emily, you're eight months pregnant with twins. It's an achievement to have got this far, but now they'll have to get out.”

She pouted. She was becoming increasingly anxious about the forthcoming birth. So many things could go wrong that she struggled to sleep despite the diminishing activity of her tenants.

“Besides, you shouldn't even be here,” he reminded her, raising an eyebrow that spoke volumes.

“I know, but I don’t want to stay alone at home.”

She had already donated for seven months and didn't want to try again. Especially as the intensity of her contractions increased, it was reassuring to have people around her. To have him close to her.

“Are you almost finished?” she interrogated him, distancing herself a little.

“I still have to send this and then we can go home.”

“I can't wait,” she affirmed, her impatience undisguised.

“You should take this opportunity to finish what you have to do and put your things away.”

“Already done.”

He looked at her with undeniable pride and smiled before returning to his keyboard. Emily remained where she was. She still had a few concerns to voice.

“I think JJ is onto something.”

“What makes you say that?” he retorted, looking up at her.

The mother-to-be recounted the dialogue she'd had earlier with her colleague and, above all, the glimpse she'd cast in the direction of his lair.

“Honestly, I'm surprised we haven't been spotted already.”

“We covered our tracks.”

“And they're the best profilers in the country.”

She conceded that the argument weighed in the balance, though she was sure that their secret was still a secret. But a secret that was undoubtedly becoming too much for both of them to bear. We'd have to get to the bottom of this before the consequences of this decision caused major damage to the parents-to-be. They would need all their resources when the tadpole pair appeared.

“When do you think we should tell them?”

They'd had this conversation several times in the months leading up to it but hadn't really settled on an opinion. But, in her opinion, now that the impending birth was fast approaching, it was time to put things straight.

“I think when the little ones get here, it'll be the right time, said Aaron, resting his folder on his desk pad. And I’ll make the announcement.”

She understood that he intended to take all the blame for her and that he would face the flood of questions that would logically follow this revelation. So that she can calmly recover from her emotions – or potential complications – and receive only positive comments from her friends. A tried-and-tested tactic he used every time he wanted to protect his loved ones. She wanted to tell him she was perfectly capable of defending herself, but instead savored the sense of security his Prince Charming side brought her. She grabbed his tie as he returned from her side of the desk and pulled him toward her. He obeyed without reluctance and soon found himself pressed against the furniture, his companion in his arms and her lips pressed to his. Their kiss dragged on for a long minute, and Emily was the first to speak again.

“I want you,” she whispered in his ear.

“Me too, but I think, in your condition, it's inadvisable.”

“Please,” she simpered, running her hands up and down his shirt.

“I have no desire to explain to Strauss how your water broke on my office carpet.”

The young woman's shoulders slumped as she realized he wouldn't give in, despite his obvious excitement. She sighed and tucked her head into the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around his torso as best she could.

“Cuddle, then?”

“Go for a cuddle,” he agreed, hugging her back.

They stayed that way for some time, soaking up each other's warmth and intoxicating each other with the scent of their beloved. Until:

“One of the kids has just kicked me. I get the impression that cuddling isn't their thing.”

“It reminds me someone else…”

He smiled and kissed her, before taking up his documents behind his back.

“I’ll take care of this, and we’ll be off.”

“Okay,” she adjured, releasing him.

She watched him cross the room, her gaze lingering on his backside under his suit jacket and slim-fitting pants. In the workspace below, Aaron walked in a straight line towards the printer-scanner combo without noticing that one of the screens was still on.

___

Sorry to tell you guys, but don't expect to see more smut with this story anymore. Now, it's just slice of life more or less angsty/fluffy. ^^;

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it the same. :)

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#hotchniss #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #seven days only #fluff

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vaovalis · 1 year

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I’ve been doing a lot of wandering around Paragon City at night. I’ve made a few trips to other, relatively nearby cities, but I’ve not yet explored them to any substantial degree. Paragon City seems likely to be where I’ll be hanging my coat. This city of dreams is certainly busy at night. There is, of course, the busy that a city like this is supposed to be, and that seems to mostly occur during the morning, the day and the earlier half of the night. The back end of the night belongs to the darkness that lives here. It lurks in the shadows, it spies from the sewers, it struts around playing supervillain in back alleys, abandoned tenement buildings, seedy warehouses and dockyard warehouses. None of that concerns me. The more I learn about this whole ‘hero’ and ‘villain’ dichotomy that prevails in the hearts and minds of the many here, the more I know that I’m not interested in wearing either hat. Not openly, anyway. Nobody here really knows what I’m about. I’m not sure that any of my new friends know or even care all that much about what I’m getting up to these days and nights. I’m starting to get the notion that all of my anger and indignation about this and that, while completely expectable of me, is not going to be useful here. It won a lot of battles and ultimately won a war back home, but the rules were different there. I lost track of that along the way, and because I lost sight of how the game of thrones had changed all around me, I wound up getting removed from that board by the people I thought I knew well enough. So many mistakes to never repeat again. I’m not going to be taking up anyone else’s war here. I’m not going to be starting an obvious one of my own either. I do believe I’m going to be starting a different kind of war though. I’ll throw a few sparks into all this dry tinder I am surrounded by and see if all this fuel is something that will burn for me. My rage, my anger, my indignation; the barefoot fire-haired girl of old had her time. She fought her war. She is not the future. I miss her sometimes. I miss who she could have been more than anything. Today, I draw a line in that sand. She will not be my future. Like so many things, she too shall rest in my memory. It’s time to forge a new me. And in this world of masks and masquerades, I’ll play the game it demands be played. I’m going to take my time. I need not be in any hurry. I’ll build my friendships and cultivate my little garden of social seeds. I’ll go take classes at the Salamanca University. I’ll meet people everywhere I go. I’ve always had a knack for getting along well with most people most of the time, and that doesn’t seem to be failing me here either. I’m going to see just how many of this world’s functional slaves I can get to join me without knowing they’re joining anything more than classes and lessons on wilderness survival, self defense and how to thrive in the world around them. Maybe it won’t be many at all. Maybe it will amount to nothing but an experiment that doesn’t take off as I expect it might. But, I never the less expect it might. I think some of these people long for a kind of freedom their big politics and booming economies and corporate spreadsheets have deleted from their lives. I think more than a few will get a taste of what it’s like to not need the grocery store anymore; to not be AFRAID anymore; and I think this could become a thing indeed. The Autarchs of this world have a chokehold because these people don’t know how to live or do much of anything at all. They are slaves with golden cages. They could open their cages whenever they please, but where would they go? What would they do? How would they eat? Where would they get money? How could they survive without everything that is provided for them?

Lets find out, shall we? Lets see in the coming while just how many of these domesticated creatures I can breathe a little fire into. The Autarchs of this world clearly reign by owning and controlling everything that supplies the masses with their comforts, their luxuries and their necessities. It has been so to such an extent that, while these people seem to have had ancestors that could actually live in the world with great success, those skills and that know-how is pretty much gone now. Time to raise some kids and teach them how to feed themselves. I’ll start with that. If, along the way, they should just so happen to start figuring out that they don’t need their Autarchs anymore, well...what a shame that could be for this world’s Autarchs. What a shame it would be for all these fat little birds to figure out for the first time in their lives what it’s like to fly.

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bastillewolf · 4 years

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Shinigami Eyes (II)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Summary: After you distastefully kill Corpse in a game of Among Us, he wants you to make it up to him and invites you to come over for the week.

Notes: Thank you so much for the love on the previous chapter, I’ve never gotten this many notes before. I hope you enjoy, and maybe leave an ask if you want to? I can’t promise I have time to do them, but I’ll pick out a couple.

Also, I might rewrite this. I kinda rushed it because I wanted to finish it by tonight, but there will be a final and third chapter to this afterwards. Please do let me know what you think.

Tag list CLOSED!

Shinigami Eyes - Pt. II

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Impostor

You were teamed up with Sean.

Your fist violently slammed down on the desk. “Goddammit! I don’t want to be impostor anymore! This game has no compassion for my poor nerves.” It was the third time in a row now, and you were really craving to do normal tasks now without all the scheming. “Fuck it, I don’t care if they kill me. I’m just gonna do my thing without thinking about it.”

You decide to follow Toast for a bit to watch him do some task. You kill him in Laboratory. You vent back to Launchpad and take your time walking towards MedBay while the kill button restores. You meet up with Corpse, and follow him while pretending to do wires in the Y-hallway. You watched the green bar go up, and continued. Sabotaging and then fixing lights, you made sure your place with Corpse was settled. Then the body of Lily was reported.

As you expected, Corpse easily vouched for you as he’d seen you do a task. The round was skipped, though Rae was sussed for ‘chasing’ Sean, by his own words.

“Corpse, you’ve grown weak,” you muttered to chat.

You were in Greenhouse, and decided it would be best to kill him there and sabotage Reactor. “Sorry baby, but I can’t keep following you around.” You quickly set off Reactor and murdered him in front of the plants. “Your blood shall keep the plants hydrated.” You did an evil laugh. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works, though.”

You vented down to MedBay and as you walked out you met up with Rae. She’d be the vouch who would confirm you weren’t anywhere near Greenhouse. “I’ll just have to fix my own sabotage so they’ll never suspect me.” You helped her with the handprint, and noted Sykkuno and Felix being there. Sean sabotaged lights, you killed Sykkuno, and ran out to follow Lily into Laboratory. Felix reported the body.

“Holy shit,” Rae gasped. So far, five people had died. You only needed to kill one more person. “It was Felix!”

“Wait, what?” the man in question asked. “I was fixing Reactor!”

She mentioned that only you, Sykkuno, Felix and herself had been there and that you’d helped her do handprint. “Sykkuno must have fixed it, and then you killed him!”

Sean asked if you’d seen anything.

“No, the lights were out. I followed Rae into Laboratory after the scan.” Your voice didn’t tremble or raise, a tactic you’d taken up from the best lair in the group. Well, the one who was now dead. Oops. “I haven’t seen Felix this entire game, though.”

He was evidently at a loss for words, so the group was quick to vote for him.

Pewds was ejected.

Victory.

You thanked Sean for a good game who was laughing his ass off. “I can’t believe you did Corpse like that! Poor guy!”

“I deadass thought you were innocent,” Corpse replied, “I’m hurt.”

“Why do you still sound dark and menacing when you say something like that?!”

You agreed with Sean heartily, “He’s just salty I’ve bested him at his own game.”

“Hey now, no need to actually insult me.”

The group laughed. You decided to call it for the night, right before Corpse did the same.”

***

He was calling you again. “What is it this time, you salty?”

“Salty? Nah, never,” he said, but you weren’t convinced.

“Then why you calling?”

“What, I can’t call my friends after playing a nice round of Among Us?”

“Not when you lost the game and you call the person who you lost to. Kinda sus, dude.”

“Alright, maybe a little salty.” You smirked.

“Aw, you need me to make it up to you?”

He laughed. “What did you have in mind?”

A bunch of thoughts, most not rated PG-13, crossed your mind. You were suddenly starting to feel uncomfortable. This was probably just something innocent, which got twisted in your fucked-up mind. You shrugged, “Uh… I don’t know.”

“I got an idea.”

“What is it?”

“Come over this week. You said you needed a break, right?”

“That sounds more like you’re doing me a favour instead of me making it up to you.”

“I don’t have any friends. You’d be making it up to me by being the first physical person here in years. I usually don’t invite people over.”

“Wow, I’m flattered. So, you don’t consider me to be your friend after all?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he chuckled.

“Sure, sure. Tell me that again when my presence suddenly brightens your life making you not want to get rid of me, ever.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

***

You walk through the gates following a hoard of people, all the while still feeling drowsy from not getting any sleep during your flight. At least you didn’t have any turbulence and landed safely. Glancing around here and there with no result, you figured Corpse would be waiting outside, until you spotted a figure clad in black a little ends away by the escalator. You were glad you were still awake enough to have found him, because he appeared to silently linger halfway behind a fern.

At least, you hoped it was him. The only indications were his clothes, mask and dark hair. You saw him run a hand through it, and identified the chipped black nail polish and familiar rings. Oh yea, that was him alright.

He seemed to be paying more attention to the floor until he saw two feet appear in his line of sight. “Hey,” you awkwardly greeted. A bit taken a back, he replied, “Oh, wow. Hey.” A mask was covering the bottom of his face, but as far as you could see his eyes were a very dark shade.

“Wow?” you repeated. He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Yea, sorry. It’s a compliment.” You held your elbow out in a safe-distance gestured hello, but he shrugged you off. “You’re gonna be staying with me anyways.” Suddenly in a daze, you felt him wrap his arms around your waist and instantly hugged him back. His baggy sweater felt warm and soft to the touch, and strands of hair tickled your face. You very much tried to repress your smile and blush, but how could you? Hugging someone wasn’t supposed to feel this good. When he pulled back he reached down to take your suitcase from you. “I don’t own a car, is it okay if we take a cab?”

“Y-Yeah, of course,” you stuttered, “But it’s on me. Same with food and stuff.” “Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “No, you’re letting me stay with you and a hotel would’ve been a lot more expensive than this. It’s my treat.” “Yeah, we’ll see.” He gave you a look and even with the mask you could tell he was smirking underneath it.

It’s about half an hour drive to his apartment complex, and it’s rather nice. “All that YouTube money paying off, huh?” you asked in amusement. “You’d know,” he replied. You insisted on carrying your suitcase up the stairs yourself, which he silently shook his head at, until after a few flights he noticed you struggling and settled on carrying the thing in between the two of you. “How many clothes did you bring?” “Oh, it’s mostly filled with bricks I might need to throw at your head.” He laughed at that.

His apartment was simple, but cosy. “Home sweet home,” he said, almost sarcastically. You furrowed your brow at him. “I’m sure you could’ve had it a lot worse.” He reluctantly agreed.

He helped you set down your luggage in what appeared to be his bedroom, where the curtains were still closed and the black bedsheets fresh. He had a few pieces of fanart up on his wall, and some on his closet. You turned to him and gave him a look. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

He quickly shook his head, “You’re not sleeping there. If you won’t let me sleep on the couch I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“If you’re sleeping on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he murmured. “What?” “Nothing.”

He suggested playing video games as you were both too tired to do anything else. You’d landed quite late yet were still confused about what time it actually was. Flying is weird. You hopped onto his couch and grabbed a controller.

He sat down next to you, but suddenly seemed tenser than before.

“You okay? You can just go to sleep if you want to.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I don’t sleep a lot. It’s fine.”

You didn’t stop looking at him, though. He was still wearing that mask. “You don’t have to take it off, if you don’t want to. I understand if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that, I just…” He took a deep breath. You hadn’t expected him to take it off then and there. You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape, controller barely held by your numb hands.

“Disappointed?”

It was as if he was expecting you to make a face or something, but you didn’t give him anything, except for a blatant “Nope” and an “Are we gonna play now or what?”

“You don’t have anything else to say?”

You shrugged, and looked him up and down again. “You’re kind of what I imagined you to be.”

“What’s that?”

“Handsome.”

Neither of you could stop smiling for the rest of the night.

You eventually forced him to sleep in his own bed, even going as far as to shove him into the room and keep your weight against the door so he couldn’t get out, so he eventually relented. “Inviting you here was a mistake.” “How come? All I’ve done so far is look after you!” “You’re a nightmare.”

You mostly stayed in for the week, which you didn’t mind at all. Being in such a closed-off environment with someone you got along with was nice. He attempted to get you to lift the weights in his room and succeeded for around fifteen minutes until you nearly dropped a dumbbell on your foot. You ordered take-out from his favourite restaurant, watched horror movies until you adapted to his sleeping schedule because you were too scared to close your eyes now, and even streamed a bit together with your friends.

“Wait, is Corpse with you?” Rae had asked.

“No, I’m at Corpse’s. He’s sitting across from me so I can’t see his screen but we’re gonna have to share the Discord unless you want to hear an echo.”

“Ah, man! You got to see his face, too?” Sykkuno whined.

“Stop simping, Sykkuno. You get enough attention from him already.”

“Don’t worry, I still love you,” Corpse said.

“Huh?”

It was probably a good thing that you got teamed up again, because you could indeed start to see his hands shaking right as the word ‘impostor’ appeared on the screen. You reached over and stroked it with your thumb. He smiled gratefully back at you.

“Just please,” he pleaded later that day, “Sleep in the bed. If only for one night.”

“No. I’ve heard about and now seen your sleeping habits. If you take the couch you’re never going to get any sleep.” You made a real effort to show him how comfortable you were – even though your back had started to hurt already after the first night – by crawling underneath your blanket and rubbing your head into the soft pillow. He snorted.

Next thing, you feel yourself being lifted by an arm underneath your knees and one around your back. “Corpse! Put me the fuck down!” you shrieked. You knew he lifted weights, but how the hell did he still have the energy as an insomniac? He ungracefully dropped you onto the matrass and turned the lights off. “Good night.”

You quickly got hold of the back of his hoodie before he could leave and pulled. He fell down next to you with a low huff. “Fine, I’ll sleep in the bed. But only if you sleep here too.”

“I snore.”

“Don’t care.”

For some reason, there wasn’t any tension or awkwardness. You were comfortable, and the soft rhythm of his breathing seemed to soothe you. He called out your name, to see if you were still awake.

“Hm?”

“…Thanks for coming over.”

“Any time.”

This was how you would spend the rest of the nights, and whenever either of you woke up suddenly curled up around the other, you didn’t mention it or move away from it. It was the first time in years Corpse got a few nights of complete rest.

#corpse husband #Corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #youtube #youtube fanfiction #pewdiepie #jacksepticeye

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

When Will My Weight Be Too Much For You?

Barry Allen x Wondersis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.6 Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Author's Note: Based off this ask right here! Enjoy! -Thorne

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Diana said this is the way to leave my grievance where you can hear it instead of straight from my mouth. I must deliver it this way because if I were to see you at this very moment, I would say things that would be improper of a princess and a partner in our relationship. Bartholomew, I do not say this lightly, but your unattendance to the unveiling of the museum exhibit has wounded my heart. You promised you would make it in time to see me reveal it to the world. I know you are busy, believe me I know, but I had asked you multiple times to check your schedule to clear it. Please wait for me to contact you again, it should be within the next few days. I would like to exert this potent emotion from mind and body before we meet once more. And though this event has occurred, please understand that my love for you has not changed. I still love you very much, Bartholomew Allen and I always shall. Farewell. End of message. To repeat, please press the pound key.

Barry banged his head on the desk as the message ended for the eighth time that night. He felt like such a fool. Such a bumbling, moronic fool. (Y/N)’d called him the day before and reminded him and he still forgot about the museum exhibit being unveiled today. He’d been so caught up in the labs that day that by the time he’d actually gotten a break, it was past three—four hours past the event.

So much for having super-speed. He’d been late. Again. And this time, he’d upset (Y/N) so much that she didn’t even want to see him for a few days. And Barry wasn’t sure what he was more upset about—missing the event and hurting her or hearing the devastation in her voice from the message. Whichever it was, it hurt Barry to the core. The type of hurt that made even his chest feel sore and his eyes sting. And all Barry could do was sit and wait, planning out how to make it up to her, and hope that she still wanted to be with him after.

***

(Y/N) hefted the javelin by her head, cocking it back as far as she could before she threw it with all her might, taking out an entire tree in the backyard of Wayne Manor. It’d been four days since the museum event, four days since Barry hadn’t showed, and four days since she’d called in sick, instead of being at home, being at Wayne Manor. Oddly enough, it was the one place she could work out her emotion—there seemed to be no end to criminals and Bruce’s family didn’t seem too particularly bothered by an Amazon being present or watching her break the Joker’s legs—they enjoyed that.

With a heavy sigh, she collapsed into the grass, gazing up at the sky as she let her limbs sprawl out. She wasn’t angry or upset with Barry anymore. Well, there was a little annoyance, but the majority had been worked out. All that was left was the feeling in her chest that made her sigh all the time—exasperation. Barry was the greatest man alive, probably better than Clark Kent, but Gods if he wasn’t the latest man alive too. He was always late

Another puff of air escaped her, and she closed her eyes as the grass crunched near her. “Have you come to gloat?”

Someone chuckled. “You’ve been out here since four AM, (Y/N). Aren’t you tired?”

“Not particularly, Bruce.” She returned, cracking one eye open to see him dressed in his suit; he’d probably just gotten back from work. “Are you going on patrol soon?”

Bruce glanced at his watch. “It’s a quarter to six. Sun’s going down. I’m going to get ready.”

(Y/N) nodded, starting to rise. “Then I shall get ready too.”

“Actually, (Y/N), I think you should go back to Central City.”

She paused, looking down at him—though their height wasn’t much different, a few inches give or take—and asked, “Have I overstayed my welcome? I apologize if I have.”

He shook his head. “Never.” Reaching out, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “But I think you should go home and talk to Barry.”

An eyebrow arched on her head, though her heart was fluttering at the mention of Central City being home. “Why?” she was genuinely curious, or perhaps suspicious of his answer. It seemed like he wanted her to talk to Barry more than he wanted her to leave.

“Because Barry Allen is moping so much during League meetings that it makes me look cheerful,” Bruce scowled. “I’m sick of seeing the poor man so distraught over his mistake.”

(Y/N) frowned. “My intentions were not to cause such distress, I just—”

“You left him a voicemail that practically tore his heart out.”

“I just—” she stopped, gaping at him. “How did you know?”

Bruce blinked. “That’s not important. What is important is that you go home to your boyfriend and tell him you love him and that you’re not angry anymore.” He shifted his hands, grabbing her face gently but firmly. “For the love of God, (Y/N), please, forgive the poor bastard.”

(Y/N), with a pinched face, looked down on the man and grunted, “If you wish to keep your hands, I suggest you remove them. Now.”

“Just go home. Please,” Bruce griped, pulling away from her. “I’m so sick of looking at Barry moping like a lovesick drunkard.”

She waved in defeat. “I shall back my bag.”

Suddenly, her duffel bag was in her face. “Already packed,” he said. “Go home.”

“I am feeling the love,” (Y/N) laughed, tugging the tight strap over her body, and rose into the sky. “Until we see one another again, my dear friend.”

Bruce waved as flew off. “See you around, Vanguard.”

***

By the time she’d returned to Central City, it was well into the night, quite possibly the early hours of the morning. The city was asleep, few cars were on the road and even fewer skyscrapers were lit up with company. (Y/N) slipped into the apartment through the bedroom window, too lazy to walk up the six flights of stairs and through the front door like she knew she should, but no one was watching, so who cared?

Apparently, Barry did, because the moment her second foot touched the floor, she was being yanked to the ground, faster than she could realize what was happening. She thrashed beneath the weight pinning her to the floor, one hand wrapping around Barry’s wrist, the other his throat as she cocked one of her legs up underneath his pelvis and to her chest, shoving at him.

Tipping their weight, he went down, and she flipped atop him, then shifted her hand to grab his other wrist, holding them both beside his head.

“Peace Barry!” she comforted firmly. “It is me, (Y/N).”

Barry stopped squirming, blinking in the darkness. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes,” she answered, letting him go so she could reach up and flick the night-side lamp on. The room was illuminated with soft yellow glow, and she glanced down at him with an easy smile. “I cannot imagine how you heard me. I was dead silent coming inside.”

He blinked. “I was awake and rolled over. All I saw was someone in the bedroom.” Barry reached up, cupping her cheek. “You’re home.”

(Y/N) leaned down, brushing her nose against his. “I am home.” Smiling sadly, she added, “And sorry I left like I did…and for making you hurt. I hope you can forgive me, Barry. I should have acted maturely and not run from my problem like a child.”

“No-no-no-no,” he worried, sitting up, taking her with him. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“But I—”

Barry shook his head, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. “I broke my promise to you, (Y/N). You reacting how you did was understandable.”

“Perhaps to a human,” she argued. “But not for a princess. And especially one of Themyscira.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands and pressed her forehead to hers. “It was just a museum exhibit, Barry. You are more important to me than pieces of history.”

His blue eyes were bright even in the dull light and his smile was as wide as a mile. “I love you, (Y/N).”

She matched his smile. “I love you more, Barry Allen.”

“Well, I love you most,” he countered, and she giggled, shaking her head.

“Impossible,” she bantered. “My love for you knows no bounds.”

“Oh yeah?” he bet, wrapping one arm around her waist, whilst the other fumbled for the bedside, rising to his feet. “Hmm, my love is eternal.” He turned, (Y/N) sinking into the mattress as he climbed onto the bed, looking at her.

An evil smirk crossed her lips and Barry’s body flushed with heat as his cheeks darkened, and before he could even blink, he was being flipped, staring up as she gazed down at him. “H-honey,” he stuttered as her fingers deftly undid the buttons of his pajama shirt, spreading it open to reveal his toned chest. He really flushed when she bent down and pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, ebbing upwards to his throat, only leaving a trail of crimson love bites in her wake.

“Your love is eternal, hmm?” she cooed against his skin, heatedly kissing along his jaw to whisper in his ear. “Prove it to me.”

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

A NEW WORLD – PART NINE

A QUIET PLACE 2 FANFIC

Pairing: Emmett x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst, Gore, Death, Murder, Attempted Rape, Aliens, Violence, Movie Spoilers, SMUT, etc…

DAY 764

‘Say Good Morning Mumma’ Emmett said holding up Charlotte as you came walking out of the bedroom.

‘I didn’t hear your get up. Why didn’t you wake me?’ you asked as you were still not used to Charlotte sleeping in a different room to you ever since Emmett cleared out the study room and put up a toddler bed for Charlotte.

‘I thought that you could use some extra sleep’ Emmett said as he took one of the wooden blocks away from Charlotte. You were up with Charlotte for two nights as she was teething and last night you finally managed to sleep five hours straight.

‘Not in your mouth, remember?’ Emmett said and Charlotte pouted at him, trying to get the wooden block back with her tiny little hand.

‘I asked Jeremy to pick up some children’s paracetamol and a teething toy on his run to the mainland today. Also, one of the women on the island found a baby monitor packed away in her garage. I will try and get it to work today. You might feel a bit less anxious about Charlotte being in another room if you can hear her through the monitor’ Emmett suggested as he handed you a cup of instant coffee.

‘Thank you’ you said with a warm smile and some guilt. You still haven’t told Emmett that he is Charlotte’s father. Yet, you could see an instant connection between them.

Emmett has never asked about Charlotte’s father and you never told him much about her and her birth. It was more that you could handle at the time especially since you thought that he was in a relationship with Nancy.

‘How come you and Nancy don’t share house?’ you eventually asked as you were making breakfast.

‘It’s complicated Y/N’ Emmett said, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him.

‘So, you aren’t in love with each other? Is that it?’ you asked curiously.

‘I don’t have feelings for her if this is what you mean. In fact, I believe that love in a world like this is a dangerous thing. It’s not worth it’ he said before putting his empty bowl into the sink and excusing himself.

It was obvious to you that he didn’t really want to discuss his relationship with Nancy.

***

Later that day you were invited to Nancy’s house to play cards and have some wine.

Reagan had kindly offered to babysit Charlotte that evening as Lucas and Marcus were out in the woods for the night, hunting animals for the community to eat alongside Emmett’s friend Morgan.

You had the feeling that there was something between Morgan and Evelyn, but didn’t dare to question it.

***

‘This is so strange’ you said as you took five cards from the deck and a glass of wine from the ones Nancy had poured and placed in the middle of the table.

‘Being here, on the island, you mean?’ Nancy asked and you nodded. You still struggled with the idea of being safe, of not being hungry and of having access to clean water simply to have a shower. The strangest of it all was that Charlotte’s father was with you now after you had expected to never see him again.

‘I think you just need to accept the fact that God chose you to be here. To keep you safe. It’s that simple’ Nancy said and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘I am sorry Nancy but I find it hard to believe after all the shit that has happened to me and my family and friends. I had to kill people to get here. I put a knife in the head of a close friend so that she would no longer suffer when she fell ill while we were at the bunker. I was almost raped by two men when Emmett saved me. Was all of this God’s plan for me?’ you sighed as you had lost faith many years ago.

‘Let’s not talk about faith, shall we’ Evelyn said and you all nodded in agreement quite quickly. After all, faith and believe had become a difficult topic and some people struggled more with it than others since the invasion.

‘Where is Emmett tonight?’ Adrian, one of the others, asked and Nancy rolled her eyes in response.

‘Who knows. He said that he needed space. He’s been acting strange ever since he got back from the mainland and my best guess is that he’s down by the old beach shag. That’s where he usually goes when he wants to be alone’ Nancy sighed somewhat disappointed. Clearly, Emmett has not let her into who he was and to who had become.

‘Hmm I wonder why that is?’ Evelyn said as she sipped on her glass of white wine while looking over at you with a smile.

You were surprised by the look Evelyn gave you. Did she know about you and Emmett you wondered?

***

After two games of cards, you helped Evelyn to take the empty wine bottles back to the kitchen in order to get some refills for everyone.

‘You need to tell him Y/N’ Evelyn said calmly as she started opening two more bottles of wine.

‘What do you mean?’ you whispered, looking at Evelyn with wide open eyes.

‘That Charlotte is his daughter’ she then went on to say.

‘How do you know?’ you whispered in a panic. You never had this conversation with her.

‘Lucas told me Charlotte’s birthday and he also told me that she came four weeks early and he had to help deliver her. Apparently, he is still a little freaked out about seeing his sister’s vagina’ she laughed before continuing on. ‘Emmett told me about you six months ago, about the night you spent together and how he could never tell Nora who the woman was he had been with that night. He still feels guilty about it all’ Evelyn whispered.

‘I remember when he called me the day after, telling me that what happened between us was nothing more than a mistake. But of course, he feels guilty towards Nora after all the crap she put him through that year’ you sighed, remembering how bad their relationship had become before the night in question.

‘No Y/N’ Evelyn said as she put one of her hands onto your shoulder. ‘The guilt he feels is towards you, for pushing you away the way he did after the night he had spent with you. He loved you. He probably still does’ Evelyn whispered with a smile.

‘He’s got a funny way of showing it. He had more than a month to say something to me before these things invaded our planet’ you huffed.

‘The morning after you had spent the night with Emmett, Nora called him from the hospital near her sister’s house. She was diagnosed with cancer that day. Her prognosis was good at the time but she never got the treatment she needed following the invasion. He chose his family Y/N. He had to’ Evelyn said with both of her hands on your shoulders.

‘I had no idea’ you said as your chin dropped and small tears began to form in the inside of your eyes. Emmett had never given an explanation to you as to why he acted the way he did and you immediately felt awful about what him and Nora must have been through.

‘I know. That’s why I am telling you now. You need to forgive him for what happened between you and let him be a father to Charlotte’ Evelyn said and you nodded in agreement.

There was nothing to say and, as soon as you returned to Nancy’s living room, you excused yourself.

You explained to the group that Charlotte was teething and that you were tired and wanted to get some rest. But the truth was that you had to see Emmett and clear things up once and for all.

***

As you arrived at the top of the hill which led down to the beach and the old beach shag, you could see Emmett sit on a large towel in front of a small fire place, starring at the sea.

Quietly and slowly, you made your way down the hill in between the bushes and approached Emmett from behind.

‘You scared the shit out of me Y/N’ Emmett said just after he startled as you tapped him on the shoulder.

‘I am sorry’ you smiled before kneeling down next to him.

‘What are you doing here?’ Emmett asked and, without words, you caressed his face with one of your hands and drew his lips closer towards yours.

‘This’ you whispered before your lips met in a passionate kiss.

‘Y/N, I am so sorry for…’ Emmett tried to say as your lips finally drifted apart.

‘Sshh. I know’ you said before pressing your lips back onto his one more time, even more desperate and passionate than before.

‘I love you’ you whispered after you had silenced him with your lips and, just as they parted again, he told you that he loves you too.

‘Didn’t you say that love in a world like this is a dangerous thing?’ you asked in between kisses and while your hands began to roam over each other’s bodies.

‘It is and I am afraid of it, but sometimes you can’t help it. I have loved you for years Y/N’ Emmett said, his deep blue eyes gazing into yours.

‘Oh Emmett’ you sighed, before you climbed onto his lap and pressed your lips against his again.

Your lips parted slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and start dancing with yours all while he began to unbutton your blouse.

‘We are on a public beach Emmett’ you giggled as his eyes wandered over your breasts which clearly had gotten larger.

‘No one ever comes down here’ Emmett assured you before guiding you off him and pushing you onto the towel beneath him, covering the sand.

After taking off his own t-shirt, Emmett rubbed both his hands along your thighs up towards the hem of your skirt. Then he moved his hands underneath your skirt and then back down towards your knees. As his hands made another pass over your legs and under your skirt, he reached all the way to the top of your thighs and his fingers felt around for your panties. Not finding any, he looked up at you and raised his eyebrows in a playful manner.

‘Shortage of underwear on the island’ you answered his unasked question with a little smirk and a flirtatious look in your eyes.

Emmett then started exploring you with his fingers. Finding you wet and aroused, he pressed one of his fingers easily into your opening and then slid it back out and rubbed it along your pussy lips and towards your clit. He repeated this process over and over again and you let out a soft moan every time his fingers made this journey along your body. Your eyes met and you bit your lip as he continued fingering you.

‘Oh my god, that feels so good’ you whispered to him and he smiled back at you.

You certainly didn't want him to stop, but you also wanted more.

After a few more minutes of this pleasure, you pulled him on top of you and your bodies were pressed up together. You could feel Emmett's hardness straining through his jeans against your thighs and you could help but moan at the sensation.

He then pulled your mouth to his in a passionate embrace. Your breaths were shallow as your kiss deepened, his mouth practically enveloping yours.

It wasn’t long until Emmett reached between you and unzipped his jeans before pulling them down along with his briefs.

‘Fuck I want you so badly’ you whispered as you pushed up your skirt and spread your legs widely, allowing Emmett to line himself up with your soaking entrance.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Emmett moaned as he thrusted his rock-hard cock into your very wet, swollen, and ready, opening.

You let out a long, low moan as he entered you. His cock felt so good inside you; like two puzzle pieces fitting together. You squeezed your muscles on him in response, sending a shiver of intensity through your body. With your left legs wrapped around him, he was pushing deep into you. With every hard and fast thrust, you would yell out, not afraid of making your noises heard on this darkened and empty beach. As he pounded into you, your hands slid, scratched and grabbed all over his body, along his back, onto his shoulders, and then down to his ass. You gripped his tight ass cheeks and pushed him in tighter on each thrust.

‘Don’t come inside me’ you barely managed to say and Emmett simply nodded as he kept thrusting into you deeply.

With all the thrusting, you eventually arched your back, changing the angle of his entry, and now his cock was hitting your very sensitive g-spot.

Your moans now turned to loud "fucks" and "oh gods" and you were soon pretty close to an explosive orgasm. Knowing that you were close to climax, Emmett sped up his thrusts which sent your over the edge.

‘Oh god, oh god, oh god...Emmett…fuck’ you moaned as a powerful orgasm rippled through your body and Emmett’s palm quickly came down on your mouth.

‘Shh’ he smirked as your pelvic muscles contracted and pulsed, tightening around his cock and then released. Spasm like shivers moved up to your shoulders and through your body and you let out a very long, satisfied exhalation.

‘Holy Fuck’ you said to Emmett, with an exasperated laugh in your voice once he finally removed his hand from your mouth.

He smiled back at you, then scooped his arms up under your back and lifted you to sit facing him. Still catching your breath, your mouths came together for a kiss, but you simply exchanged warm breaths into each other's mouths before your lips met.

As your body calmed from the orgasm, you brought your hand down to his cock. He was wet and sticky from your fluids, so you leaned down, bringing your lips to his cock, tasting yourself on him and began sliding your tongue all along his shaft, adding the lubrication of your saliva to him.

Your tongue made broad strokes along the underside of his cock and then tickled the tip and then back down again, adding more and more moisture to his cock with every lick. Now slippery with your moisture, you brought your hand to his cock and began moving it up and down, giving your mouth a break. As you squeezed your fingers and twisted your wrist on his cock, he brought his fingers back to play with your pussy. Still highly sensitive from the orgasm you had just experienced, you gasped at his initial touch and your muscles involuntarily squeezed and clenched.

He inserted his pointer and middle fingers into your wet opening, then dragged them out and up along your lips to your sensitive clit. You let out a loud groan as he did this, while your hand continued its work on his cock. Slowly, he continued moving his fingers along your wetness, along your lips and then he started finger fucking you, slowly at first and then faster and with more intensity. You matched his intensity with your hand on his cock. Faster and deeper he plunged into your warm tunnel, and faster and tighter you moved on his manhood. He took in a deep inhalation and let out a gasp and you knew he was close to release. His fingers were now rapidly pounding into you and you were moving your hand faster than ever on his cock.

‘I am close’ Emmett moaned, barely managing to speak and you quickly dropped your head down onto his swollen cock and he let out a loud, guttural exhalation as his warm and sweet cum released into your mouth.

‘Hmm’ you moaned out, squeezing his cock with your lips and sliding them up and down as he pulsed out more semen into your mouth. Once he was complete, she licked your tongue on his cock, before removing your mouth and swallowing.

You had never really enjoyed sucking off a cock and swallowing cum before, but with Emmett it was different and you were somewhat truly delighted in satisfying Emmett this way.

You sat up and looked at Emmett. His head was leaned back, his eyes closed, and a look of complete pleasure on his face.

‘Fuck…this was something else’ he whispered to you, followed by a deep sigh and a little contented laugh.

You smiled in return as he fluttered his eyes open.

It wasn’t long until your lips met again and, just as you heard some noises in the bushes besides you, Emmett quickly pulled up his pants while you buttoned up the blouse which never left your body.

Then, Emmett quickly put his t-shirt back on and, to your relief, two rabbits jumped out of the bushes making you both laugh and fall back against the towel which was barely covering the sand from the beach.

‘Emmett?’ you said as you rested your head on his chest while your eyes were gazing into the fire.

‘Hmm’ he said as he was holding you tight.

‘There is something I need to tell you’ you murmured.

Tag List (Cillian):

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #a quiet place #a quiet place 2 #a quiet place imagine #a quiet place fanfic #a quiet place smut #a quiet place ii #a quiet place part 2 #a quiet place part ii #Emmett #emmett x reader #emmett smut #evilyn abbot

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viking-raider · 3 years

Text

Hoist the Colours - Part I

Summary: Your father is given a governorship of a Caribbean island and you accompany him on the voyage, a new start, for the both of you. But, it doesn’t go as either of you planned, or well.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,841

Warning: Pirate!Henry, Fluff, Angst, Mention of death, Violence, Language, Kidnapping, Ransom

Inspiration: It’s Henry and Pirates! I got the idea after watching Pirates of the Caribbean one day!

Author’s Note: I wanted to post something new to treat the fandom. As always, thank you to the lovely @wondersofdreaming for helping me along with my stories.

The room creaked and groaned, swaying back and forth at a quick and nauseating pace, the booms and cracks coming from outside the door were muffled by the thick wood. He pushed you into the corner, panting, sweating and bleeding heavily.

“Henry.” You whimpered, trembling with fright and adrenaline.

“Sshh, it's all right.” He wheezed, breathing labored and sat down on the bed that was in the corner. “Here, look at me, my love.” He said, forcing a smile as he cupped your cheek in his shaking hand, leaving a bloody print with it. “We'll be all right, my sweet. The men are strong and capable, they'll rid the ship of these mongrels.”

“It doesn't seem like it.” You fretted, biting your lip and glancing at the barred door as something very heavy struck it.

Henry chuckled and kissed the corner of your mouth, you could taste the blood from the split on his bottom lip. “We've encountered worse on these seas, I assure you.” He groaned softly. “But, I must tell you, of all the treasures and gold I have plundered in my lifetime as a Pirate, you are the greatest of them all.”

3rd August 1686

It was a sunny morning in London, the sea air sweeping over the city, keeping it cool as Londoners and it's other residents went about their daily business. You stood on the balcony of your parents' home, taking deep breaths of the sea air and could hear your maid bustling about your room, packing your things for the voyage you and your father would be taking the next day. Your father, Thomas, had been appointed Governor of the newly colonized Lockemirth Island in the Caribbean, and you were to accompany him, with no other prospects for staying in London, and after the death of your mother the year before, he felt the both of you needed a fresh start in the world, and the governorship was that opportunity.

“Miss?” Your maid called, appearing in the balcony doorway.

You turned towards her, lifting a brow. “Yes, Jane?”

“Everything you've asked me to pack has been so.” She informed you, bundling the sides of her skirts and bowing softly to you.

“Thank you, Jane.” You smiled softly at her, saddened that you would be leaving the place that had been home all your life, away from your friends and all the seasonal events that kept London busy.

You doubted there would be such high society events like London's, on a teeny island in the Caribbean, expecting and loathing the boredom and loneliness that would no doubt fill your days there. Sighing and softly closing your eyes for a moment, you stepped back into the house as sweaty movers appeared in your room to collect the crates of the things you would be taking with you on the voyage, and taking them downstairs to the foyer, to later be moved to the storage haul of the HMS Kilmartin.

“Ma'am.” One of the movers tipped the brim of his sweat stained and worn flat hat, as he and the other mover muscled the heavy wooden crate out the double doors of your room.

“Sir.” You nodded your head politely to him, then they were gone, grunting and groaning down the spiral staircase. “I shall miss this place, Jane.” You sighed, sitting down on the edge of your bed and stared out the window. “I heard the island region is prone to hurricanes, that kick up tremendous winds and rain, capable of flattening everything in its wake.”

“Gracious.” Jane gasped, sweeping the dry packing straw that had fallen to the floor, while things were being packed into the crates. “Sounds frightening.”

“It does.” You agreed with her, a knot of fear in your stomach at the thought of being caught in such a storm.

What would you and your father do, if such a storm hit the island whilst you were there? Even worse, what if one happened, while you were still sailing to the island? It would undoubtedly cause the ship to sink, taking you, your father and everyone aboard down with it!

“And the pirates, Miss.” Jane added, after a moment of silence.

“No pirate is stupid enough to attack a ship of His Royal Highness, King James II.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at her. “It would be a grave mistake on their part, the King doesn't suffer pirates, nor does my father for that matter. It's part of the reason he was appointed Governor of the island, to prevent pirates from getting their greedy and filthy hands on it.”

“Like they did with Nassau.”

“Of course.” Jane nodded, shyly.

You sighed again, but deep down you were concerned about the pirates, your father had mentioned only the night before that one of the royal ships had been attacked and boarded by pirates on their way to Port Royal. They had taken most of the cargo and killed several of the crew members, before finally returning to their own ship and vanishing on the horizon. You tried to soothe your own fears by repeating the same you told Jane inside your mind, that no pirate would attack a royal ship. But, it barely eased that fear and anxiety.

If anything, it made it worse.

The next day, Jane woke you earlier than usual and helped you dress, before you went downstairs for one more breakfast in the house. Your father was already sitting at the table, a steaming cup in front of him and the daily newspaper in his hand. He set it down as you entered the room, standing to greet you with a smile and gently kiss your cheek, before you took your seat at the table and Jane laid out your breakfast before you.

“Thank you.” You smiled at her, picking up a fork.

“Are you ready for our voyage, my dear?” Your father asked, sipping his tea and regarding you over its rim.

“As I can be, father.” You replied, picking up your own cup of tea. “How long will it take?”

“With good weather and wind, hopefully no longer than seven weeks.” He informed you, setting his cup down on its little saucer. “With terrible weather, it could be as long as three months.”

“Let's hope it is the former, instead of the latter, then, shall we?” You smiled over at him, nervously.

“Don't worry about the journey, my sweet petal.” He said, smiling at you in a way parents did, when they were trying to be reassuring, while also hiding their own fears and worry.

“All will be well.”

You didn't argue with him.

Besides, your father had far more sailing experience than you did. He had once been a member of His Royal Majesty's, King Charles I's Royal Navy, reaching the rank of Captain, before meeting your mother, retiring and trying his hand in politics, quite successfully, at that. You on the other hand, had never been on a boat, unless you counted the little rowboat James Turner took you in to cross a small river to a picnic spot he had set up for you, during last year's social season, with Jane as chaperon. You had wondered then, as he half struggled to row the vessel, why you were doing so, when there was a small, and perfectly useful, foot bridge not ten meters away from the small dock he had pushed off from.

But, just like now, you didn't argue or question it, he wanted to be romantic, and your father was trying to be protective and reassuring.

Your father took his pocket watch out, the highly polished gold cover popping open, its soft ticks reached you as he frowned down at it, then snapped it shut again and tucked it back into his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he downed the rest of his cooled tea, neatly folded his half read newspaper and rested back against his chair, quietly regarding you across the table, while you finished your breakfast.

“Edward, have the carriage readied, we must leave in no more than twenty minutes.” He called out to his servant, before rising to his feet.

He bowed politely to you and left the room, you knew where he was going, to your mother's rooms. Your father had shut up her rooms the day of her funeral, not wanting a single item inside to be disturbed out of the places she had put them in. She had been sick for some time, but in the last month of her life, she had gotten far worse. Your father employed every respectable doctor London had, even the physician the King himself used. But, all of them had a different diagnosis and treatment for what supposedly ailed her, and none of them worked, most of them only made her worse. So, she wasted away until there was nothing left of her, but skin and bones, and she passed away. Your father was understandably distraught and brokenhearted by her death, only mechanically doing his obligations, always standing, motionless, in her dark and tomb-like rooms, as if he stood there long enough, time would rewind and bring her back to him.

There was no doubt in your mind, that's where he was going, to say one last good-bye to her, before you both set sail for Lockemirth, for what would likely be several years, if not forever. You had already sneaked into her room, during the night, taking a ruby necklace that she loved to wear, as a token to remember her by and to feel as if, in a way, she was accompanying you both on the journey.

“Are you ready, my dear?” His voice asked as he descended the staircase to join you in the foyer, lifting a graying brow at you.

“As I can be, Father.” You replied, stomach clenching inside your corset.

He smiled at you, fingertips gently brushing your cheek, while Edward opened the front doors. “Into a brave new world, my loving daughter.” He said, looping his arm with yours and escorted you out into the rising morning sun, the family carriage already waiting for you both, door open and horses patiently standing at attention.

Your father helped you inside the carriage, then followed after you, rapping his knuckles on the door to signal the driver to move forward. Both of you watched as the beloved house slowly disappeared from view, soon falling away to the wharves of London harbor. The sea air was even stronger on the wharves, mixed with the strong scents of seaweed, fish, the unwashed bodies of sailors long at sea and hot tar. The HMS Kilmartin was easy enough to spot on the wharves, its masts standing tall amongst the others, rocking in the gentle swell of the waves coming off the ocean, it glittered in the rays of the new day, showing off its blue, white and gold paint job, it was immaculate. It gave you a great measure of relief to see it, it seemed infinitely more steady and reliable than the other ships in the harbor.

“Shall we find out if you have sea legs like your dear father?” He teased you, as you approached the gangplank leading up onto the deck.

You tried to give him an amused smile, before following him up the swaying plank, but you weren't truly amused at the prospect of finding out if you were prone to seasickness or not. You dearly hoped you wouldn't be though, all you needed was this voyage to be even longer and more miserable then it already would be without you losing your stomach with every movement of the ship.

Stepping onto the deck, you clutched your father's arm tighter and planted your feet against the unaccustomed sway. Your father chuckled and helped you steady yourself, standing there for several long minutes to allow you to acclimate, then started forward again, slowly, baby step by baby step. A pair of doors swung open and a man appeared out of them, dressed completely in Royal Navy attire, giving away his station as the Captain of the ship.

“Sir Thomas.” The Captain smiled at your father, striding over to you both with the confidence of a man walking on land, instead of on the swaying deck of a ship. “This must be your lovely daughter.” He smiled at you next, sweeping off his hat and bowing to you.

“Indeed, sir.” Your father smiled, looking at you with all and more pride. “My dear, this is Captain Davis.”

“My lady.” Captain Davis greeted you, taking your offered hand and kissing it. “It is a pleasure to have you aboard my ship.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain Davis.” You replied, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks.

Captain Davis's smile broadened at your words, before letting your hand go and looking back to your father. “We have your cabins ready for you, sir. The things you've asked to be taken into them are already there, awaiting you both.” He explained to your father.

“So, shall I show you to your cabins?”

“Please, lead the way, Captain.” Your father nodded and gripped your hand tighter, following Davis into a dim passageway and down a small set of stairs, to the second level of the ship.

“Sir Thomas, your cabin is here.” Captain Davis said, leading the way down a narrow hallway and motioned to a door on the left. “My lady, your cabin is just through there.” He pointed to a door across from your father's. “I do hope the both of you find comfort in them. If you are in need of anything, please inform myself or my Chief Mate, Mr. Gray.” He instructed the both of you.

You and your father thanked him and entered your respective cabins. Your cabin was narrow in length and just wide enough that your fingertips, with your arms stretched out from your sides, barely touched the walls, it reminded you of your closet at home. Sighing, you approached the bed to one side, it was built into the side of the ship, for obvious reasons, with a feather mattress laid into that, and a lip, to keep the bed's occupant from being either rolled out or tossed out with the ship's movement, no matter its speed and the type of waves it was sailing through. There was a porthole across from the bed, where you could only see the side of a ship that was docked beside the Kilmartin.

At the other side of your room was a heavy and deep chest, a chest full of your things, clothing to change into, toiletries and some other home comforts to keep you company, like a book or two. Sighing, you sat down on the bed and stared out the porthole, to what teeny strip of blue and cloudy sky you could see at the top of it.

“I already miss home.” You frowned, chewing on your lip.

It was three weeks into the voyage to Lockemirth Island from London, and you had, more or less, gotten your sea legs; as your father put it. You had only spent the first day and a half hanging over the railing of the main deck, spilling any substance you put in your body, that wasn't already there to start with. All things considered though, you found yourself rather enjoying the life on board the ship, watching the crew go about their duties, pulling and tying ropes as thick as your arms, climbing the rigging like monkeys in trees; you marveled at their ease of doing it without falling or getting tangled up. You would join your father every evening or morning for a row around the main deck, keeping each other company and sane on the long journey.

But, on the second day of the fourth week, as you woke and dressed that morning, something felt different, off to the normal air and movement of the ship. Frowning, you made your way to the top side and heard all the noise and ruckus that was going on. You had grown used to all the noise that came with the ship, but there was more of it, frantically yelled orders and every crew member was in a manic rush to and fro, carrying this and dragging that, not even looking or uttering their usual greetings to you.

It frightened the wits out of you.

You quickly found your father in Captain Davis's quarters, both frantic as the crew, but also angry. Angry at each other, something else or both, you couldn't tell, but you knew the look of fear on your father's face, you had seen it only in times of great peril and strife.

“Papa, what's the matter?” You asked, moving forward to rest your hand on his arm, trying to give him some type of reassurance.

He started, feeling your warm touch on his arm, his billowing sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “My petal.” He gasped, blinking as if it was the first time he had ever set eyes on you. “You should go back down to your cabin, Petal. It's not quite safe for you, just now.”

You frowned at him, increasingly concerned. “Why?” You asked, blinking at him and glancing down at the map on the Captain's vast desk.

“My--” He paused and let out a harsh breath through his nose, a clear sign he's annoyed and at a stalemate for what to do and say. “It's nothing to be concerned with, my Petal. The dear Captain believes he saw an...unfriendly...ship on the horizon this morning.”

“Is it a pirate ship?” You let out in a rush, eyes wide with alarm.

“Of course not, Petal.” Your father chuckled, shaking his head at you. “It was flying the colors of a French flag.”

“It's easy enough for a pirate to fly a false flag in place of their own, until they get close enough to fly it, and at that point, it would be too late for us to escape their guns or their attempt to board us.” A man standing on the other side of the desk said, pessimistically.

“Mr. Gray!” Your father roared, slamming his fist down on the desk and causing several small, lead figurines to jump and fall over. “I would request you holding your tongue with such talk in front of my daughter.” He growled, dangerously.

“Bad luck to have a woman aboard, as is.” Mr. Gray continued, ignoring your father and glaring at you with unmasked distaste.

“It seems the only bad luck on this ship, Mr. Gray,” You hissed back, jaw stiff. “is your attitude.”

Your father repressed a snort of proud laughter into his fist, covering it up with a clearing of his throat. “Be it as it may, Mr. Gray. My daughter is on this ship, and if there were anything of luck to be had, it would be with her.” He told the First Mate, but smiled adoringly at you. “You have nothing to fret over, my Petal. All will be well. That French ship was most likely just sailing back to her home port with merchant goods.”

He took your hand from his forearm and escorted you to the open door of the Captain's quarters. “Didn't you start that lovely needle point work, just yesterday?” He inquired, stepping out of the quarters with you and closing the door behind him. “I simply can not wait for you to finish and show it to me, my dearest.” He told you, sounding most interested and desperate to see the finished product.

“I did.” You nodded, still uneasy about the information you received.

“Then, go back down to your cabin and work on finishing it.” He brought you to the doorway of the passage that led down to your cabins. “I'll be down shortly and we'll take our customary round about the deck. How does that sound?” He asked, grinning at you sweetly, too sweetly.

“Of course, Father.” You acquiesced with a soft sigh, you could tell he was overwhelmed with worry and frustration and didn't wish to add to it, so you conceded, bowing your head obediently to him.

“That's a dear girl.” He smiled at you, kissing your forehead, then returned to the Captain's quarters. “So, who do we think it was?” He asked, leaning against the desk and surveying the map, the knocked over figurines having been put back in their places.

“This time of the year?” Mr. Gray replied, stroking his smooth chin. “It could be anybody. Actual French, the Spanish, but more than likely, pirates.”

“Oh, come off it, Richard.” Captain Davis huffed, mopping his sweaty face with his handkerchief.

“I'm serious, Godfrey.” Gray huffed back at him, angered that his word wasn't being trusted. “It's hurricane season in the Caribbean, the Spanish and French, unless on official business wouldn't be sailing out here. We only are because we must get the new Governor and his daughter, to Lockemirth, or we too would be anchored in London Harbor. The only people crazy enough to sail in these waters are those and pirates, that know other ships will be anchored in harbors, or trying to reach harbor before a storm brews in, so they could take advantage of their desperation.”

“It was sailing clear in the other direction, Richard.” Davis answered, shaking his head at his First Mate's paranoia. “That was at first light this morning. If it was a pirate seeking advantage, we would have seen the change of course and reappear in our wake.”

“That was four hours ago.” Thomas replied, pressing his lips together. “They wouldn't have been able to stay in our wake and out of our sight for that long, in fear of losing us.” He explained, trying to be rational with the two of them.

“Sir Thomas is correct, Richard.” Davis agreed, dropping into the chair behind his desk. “They would have been re-spotted in some capacity. They have not been, so it can only be a French ship returning to her port, most likely a head of any storms that might form.” He said, pressing his fingertips to his thumping and sweaty temples. “I have Mr. Michaels on watch duty, he'll tell us if another, or the same ship, is spotted in our wake. So, until then, gentlemen, I recommend not wasting your energy and strength of fretting about it.”

Looking at each other, Sir Thomas and Mr. Gray nodded their heads at the Captain and excused themselves from his quarters, returning to their usual morning places. Your father came down to your cabin and after answering several of your worried questions, the pair of you went up onto the deck and started doing your rounds about it, the crew was in less of rush and panic, now that Mr. Gray had given them orders to ease their distress, greeting you and your father as you passed by them.

The two of you were having lunch together with Captain Davis, when Mr. Gray came barreling into the room, out of breath and only making the smallest apologies for barging in without knocking or ceremony. Captain Davis wiped his mouth and dropped his silk napkin beside his plate with a deep air of irritation, then pushed his chair back and stood.

“What is this about, Mr. Gray?” He demanded, rounding the table to stand face to face with him.

“The ship, sir.” Mr. Gray wheezed, gulping thickly and trying to regain himself. “The French ship has been spotted again, six leagues behind us, Sir.” He informed his Captain, taking a deep gulp of air into his burning lungs.

Captain Davis's head snapped over his shoulder to your father, who was instantly to his feet and going out the door with Davis and Gray. You looked out the large bay window behind the Captain's chair to the endless and sparkling track of ocean and sky, but saw nothing in it, but choppy waves. Jumping to your feet, you rushed out of the room, catching your father's coat tails as he ran up the staircase leading to the upper deck, where the helm was stationed. Captain Davis snatched a folded spy glass from the helmsman, extending it to full length and spied out over the ocean, where Gray was pointing his finger, supposedly where he had seen the ship in question, not moments before.

You watched Davis's stiff shoulders slowly melt, making your anxiety spike, knowing if there was nothing of alarm to be seen, his shoulders would have stayed stiff, but they relaxed, like he was in agreement that there was something trailing behind the ship, and it was nothing good. You looked up as your father looked back at you and saw the same language of Davis's body, in his face.

“There's still no evidence the ship is sailed by pirates.” Davis said, handing his spy glass to your father. “There could be any number of reasons for her to turn back.”

“Why are you acting as if nothing is possibly afoul?” Gray asked, his teeth gritted as he tried to hold his temper with his commanding officer.

Captain Davis did not reply, his unfocused eyes stared off in the direction of the quickly growing black spot, you could now see, on the bright horizon, chewing on his lip as he tried to come up with something to do, some action to take against not only the possibility of the ship being indeed French and either in need of their help or sought to harm them, or if it was a pirate ship sailing under a fake French flag for evil pretenses, such as boarding, plundering and scuttling them.

“Captain!” Gray roared in his face, patience lost. “Orders!”

Davis snapped out of it and his face turned into an expression of hardened steel. “Let out the sails, catch as much of the wind as we can, try to get ahead of them as much as possible, but run out the guns in case we can not!” He snapped, then pushed aside the helmsman manning the ship's wheel.

Gray rushed to the railing overlooking the main deck and shouted the orders down to the crew, who paused for a moment, looking at each other as alarm and the urgency of it set in, then started running around to fulfill the orders. You stood frozen in place, you weren't part of the crew, those orders meant nothing to you in the slightest. So, you knew not what to do with yourself, other than stand there and watch that black spot steadily take the shape of a ship, and a mighty looking ship it was, even at such a distance, you shuddered to think what it would look like even closer still.

Your father clapped shut the spyglass and turned towards you, he looked ashen as your eyes met, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped down his own anxiety and fears, getting a handle on his resolve like a hand snapping closed around something valuable. He blindly held the closed spyglass out to the helmsman, who took it, and strode over to you with deep purpose, catching your elbow in his hand and turning you down the stairs.

“Sir Thomas!” Captain Davis yelled out, catching your father's attention. “Take her into my quarters, she should be safe there!” He said and the two men nodded heads at each other and your father helped you down the stairs and into the Captain's quarters.

“Papa?” You huffed as he escorted you inside, then turned on his boot heels and started out again, without a word to you. “Father!” You snapped, annoyed with him, and truly frightened.

“My Petal, fret not! All will settle down.” He told you, stopping in the doorway. “Once we out run that ship.”

“And if we do not?” You asked, brows lifting at him.

“We will.” He replied, sounding as if he was trying to convince both of you of that fact, before going out, closing and locking the quarters behind him.

Huffing and shaking your head at the door, you paced the room, trying to calm your nerves. Your father never lied to you, so if he said the Kilmartin would outrun the ship, then that's what it would do, and when it did that, it would no longer matter if the ship had good or ill deeds as its intentions against your ship, they would be lost behind and likely give up the chase. Sighing, you sat down on a padded bench under the long window at the back of the ship, staring at the ship that grew closer still.

Within the hour, the ship was considerably closer to the Kilmartin, so close, you could see the little dots of crewmen scurrying about the rigging. It did nothing to ease your anxiety and fear, if anything it made it worse, and knew your father had to be feeling the same way. With another hour or two, the ship would no doubt be alongside yours, then the real trouble and anxiety would set in.

What would they do?

What did they want?

All questions that kept circling your mind as you watched the gap between the two ships narrow more and more as time passed.

You hadn't realized you had dozed off, lulled by the rock of the ship, until you heard a loud boom and a splash of water, making you jerk and gasp. Your eyes snapped out the window and a strong dizzy spell made the room spin a full three hundred and sixty degrees, before steadying on the sight of the ship that had been chasing the HMS Kilmartin for the last several hours, you could see the bow of the ship now, clear as day, as well as the ship's figurehead, a lion's head with a rose in its mouth.

The noise that you had heard was the ship firing one of its cannons as a warning shot, an aggressive suggestion to stop trying to run and yield to them. But, you could tell by the pull of the ship, it hadn't let up an ounce of its speed, still trying to outrun them. You watched two more sails drop into place on their masts and knew, in that instant, that the pursers hadn't been using their ship's full strength to overtake the Kilmartin, they had been toying with them, the whole time.

The ship gained considerable speed in only a few minutes, leaning slightly to the starboard as it was maneuvered to pull alongside the Kilmartin. You jumped up onto your feet and looked out the windows to the side of the ship, watching as the ship slid into place beside yours, you could see the open cannon ports and the guns in place, ready and waiting for the ship's captain to give the order to open fire.

The doors to the quarters burst open and you yelped, startled, but sighed, seeing it was just your father. He gave you a half sympathetic smile, but his expression was agitated and frantic, sweat pouring from his brow and his usually immaculate clothing disheveled. He strode over to you, pulling you bodily away from the windows, eyes darting between you and the ship outside them.

“Get away from there.” He snapped, hastily. “It isn't safe.”

“I thought we were to out run them.” You said, gripping his hands in yours.

“So, we thought we would, but it seems these people are not to be underestimated.” He replied, squeezing your trembling hands. “Stay away from the windows, and no matter what you hear and what happens, do not come out of this room, until I come for you. Do you understand me?”

“If you--”

“Do you understand!” He barked, hotly.

You drew away from him, surprised at his temper towards you. “I do.” You replied softly, brows creasing.

“Good.” He nodded, letting go of your hands and left you locked in the Captain's quarters, yet again.

It wasn't twenty minutes later another shot rang out, this time from a musket, instead of a cannon. You weren't sure what ship it had been issued from and weren't sure it even mattered, it wasn't a good sign by and by. Your heart was hammering against your corset strings, there was a battle coming, even you knew that much. You dared to peek out the window again and regretted it, as the guns from both ships opened fire. Yelping, you dropped to the floor and scurried over to the Captain's desk, taking cover underneath it.

There were reports from cannons, muskets and pistols, mixed in with shouts of orders and insults, the screams of the injured and dying, the shattering and splintering groans of wood as cannonballs ripped through both ships. It felt like forever since the battle started, soon joined with the resounding clang of metal as the men from the other ship managed to board the Kilmartin and a battle of swords broke out. This was all the worst case scenarios that your father and the Captain had been trying to avoid since first spotting of the ship that morning and all you could think of was the image of your father laying on the deck bleeding to death or already being dead.

You peeked at the door from over top the desk, not willing to come out of your hiding place, once you heard the sudden and unsettling silence that fell between the ships. Had the crew of the Kilmartin won at defending their ship, or had the other ship won? Maybe, neither ship won and they had all killed each other! What would that mean for you, being the only one still alive? You couldn't sail a ship on your own, even if you knew how to. Did that mean you would be left here to starve or feel the mercy of whatever the sea and weather threw at you. Maybe you would get lucky and another ship would pass by, investigate why two ships were motionless in the middle of the ocean and would save you. Or the ship would be pushed in the direction of some spot of civilization, saving you that way.

But, the more your mind came up with these possible scenarios and questions, the more and more outlandish and infinitely impossible they became.

Sir Thomas, your father, and Captain Davis watched as the ship not only dropped two more sails, but also lowered the French flag it had been flying since it had been spotted that morning.

“Please, not a red one.” Thomas muttered under his breath. “Please, not the red.”

“What's the matter with a red flag?” A deckhand, who had been standing behind him asked.

Thomas half turned to him, lifting a brow at him. “New to a ship, I'm supposing.”

“Aye, sir.” He nodded, looking even more nervous.

“Pirates flags are signals to those the pirates are pursuing.” Thomas replied, pushing his jaw forward. “A black pirate flag means that anyone who surrenders will be allowed to live. But, a red pirate flag means, 'no quarter given'.” He explained, but saw the naive look in the green deckhand's eyes.

“In layman's terms, no matter what, everyone on board will die, despite them surrendering peacefully or not.”

The deckhand's face drained of all color, as the true gravity of the situation struck him, before he bolted for the railing and vomited over the side. Thomas shook his head at the boy, turning back towards the gaining ship, just in time to see the pitch black flag unfurl at the top of the main mast, baring a white skull with a red rose in its mouth, letting out the teeniest amount of tension from Thomas's body. He and Davis exchanged looks with each other, the same thought going through their minds at seeing the black flag, instead of the red one.

A moment later, as the ship pulled alongside the Kilmartin, a musket shot went off, whizzing past Thomas and Davis, and struck the green deckhand between the shoulder blades, knocking him over the railing and into the ocean with a splash. Thomas looked across the small gap between the ships, his eye meeting the eye of the man standing beside its wheel, as he lowered the smoking musket from his shoulder, a smug and unapologetic expression on his face as the crew of the ship lined the railing closet to the Kilmartin, their own weapons loaded and ready for whatever was to come next.

“Surrender now!” the musket wielding man shouted across. “No harm will come to you or your crew!”

Captain Davis took a step forward, resting his hand on one of the handles of the ship's wheel, grasping it so tightly his knuckles turned bone white. “I haven't surrendered to a pirate's demand in the twenty years I've been a Captain.” He hissed, under his breath and between clenched teeth.

“I don't bloody intend to now.”

“Captain, we can not afford to fight these men.” Gray hissed back at him.

“This is His Majesty's Ship and it shall stay that way.” Davis snapped, turning his head to glare at his First Mate. “Pirates be damned!” He roared out loud, turning his venom back to the other ship.

“Fire!” He ordered aloud.

There was a momentary lull, before the firing started, blast after blast of cannon fire from blew the ships' decks and the firing of muskets on deck. Men taking cover between shots to reload their guns, then popping back up again to return fire. The splashes of missed shot and dead bodies falling into the raging sea between the ships, splinters of wood rained down on top of them as balls smashed through railings, masts and hauls. A scurry of men on the pirate ship climbed the rigging with ease, grabbing onto loose lines to swing across the no man's land between the ships and boarded the Kilmartin, pulling their swords and cutlasses, cutting down any poor fellow in their way, before they themselves could pull their metal, and swept through the deck.

The Kilmartin was soon overwhelmed after that, forcing Captain Davis to wave a white flag and surrender to the organized and clever pirates. A gangplank was laid between the bobbing ships, but no one crossed it, instead, a tall and bearded man stepped forward, his hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, he wore a dark brown jerkin over a billowing white shirt and tight leather pant; lifting a brow and tilting his head at the assembly of the remaining Kilmartin crew, before settling his piercing blue gaze on Davis.

“You are the Captain of this ship, I presume?” He asked in a deep voice.

“I am.” Davis replied, not hiding his disgust with the man, whose clothing was stained and spotted with the blood of his men. “Who might you be, then?”

“I'm the Captain of the Crimson Jersey.” He replied, jerking his head towards the other ship.

A low murmur went through the Kilmartin men, their fright became even more profound hearing the name of the ship that had attacked them, side eyeing each other and their captures. The Crimson Jersey was one of the most feared Pirate Ships on the high seas, there was only one other ship feared more than the Crimson Jersey and that was Black Beard's Queen Anne's Revenge, and even Black Beard had a measure of respect for the Captain of the Crimson Jersey. While the Captain of the Crimson Jersey, Henry the Red, rarely left people alive from his attacks on their ships, he was well known for attacking well off ships and taking either people or materials as captives, until a set ransom was met, if the ransom wasn't met, then he would kill the captive or keep the materials to sell to the highest bidder at one of the Pirate Ports.

“We have nothing of value on the ship.” Captain Davis said, narrowing his eyes at the other Captain.

“Then, what is the HMS Kilmartin doing out so far from her beloved port?” Henry the Red asked, lifting a suspicious brow at Davis.

“His Majesty the King has ordered us to sail to Port Royal to retrieve the Governor there and bring him back to London, for personal commendation.” Davis told him, lying easily to the Pirate Captain's face.

“It must be some commendation for him to order it this late in the year, the threat of hurricanes are quite common about this time.” Henry replied, sensing Davis's lie, but his eyes moved to Thomas, noticing his shifty behavior and the way he kept trying to subtly look towards the doors of the Captain's quarters.

“Is there something bothering you?” He asked, stepping closer to Thomas. “Like a secret you know.”

“I know nothing of what you speak.” Thomas replied, glaring back at the man.

“Is that so?” He replied, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Then, you'll have no quarrel with me going to have a look.” He said, striding over to the locked doors of the quarters.

“Don't!” Thomas suddenly shouted, his resolve breaking away to his fear of the pirate finding you inside.

Henry turned back to Thomas and laughed at him, more than sure now there was something of great value inside. Taking a step back, he kicked the doors open with a crash of his big boot and entered. At first, he didn't see anything of value inside the room, but he didn't get deterred easily, especially when there was the prospect of treasure involved. He searched the room and as he neared the desk, saw the hem of a dress underneath it and grinned, knowing now what that treasure really was.

“Well, well.” He cooed, stepping around the back of the desk. “Who do we have here?” He laughed, watching you draw yourself further underneath the desk.

Bending down, he reached underneath the desk and grabbed a hold of your arm, yanking you halfway out before you sank your teeth into his meaty forearm. He hissed as you broke his skin and the copper-y taste of his blood touched your tongue, but his vise-like grip didn't relent, he only gripped you tighter and finished dragging you out of your hiding place.

“Oh, feisty and pretty.” He chuckled, surveying you with an unguarded eye. “I like that.” He smiled, then grunted as you stomped on his foot. “Watch yourself, wench.” He hissed, knotting his hand in the back of your hair and painfully jerking your head back, making your vision swim. “Try such a thing again and you'll lose something precious to you.” He warned, then dragged you out of the quarters.

“Let her go!” Thomas roared, taking a step towards you both, only to be stopped with a punch to the gut.

“Father!” You shrieked, jerking against Henry, only to be yanked backwards against him and his free hand wrapped around your throat.

“Father?” Henry mocked, smiling between you and Thomas. “Is this your dear daughter?”

“Let her go.” Thomas wheezed, straightening himself up. “I'll give you anything you wish, just please let her go.” He begged.

“She's all I have left in this world.”

Henry grinned at your father and turned his face into your hair. “I'm sure you would give me anything in the world to have her back.” He whispered against the skin of your temple. “So, tell me, what is it you're willing to give me for her back?” He asked, looking at your father from the corner of his eye.

Thomas floundered, his heart racing as he held your terrified gaze. “I'm on my way to take my station as Governor of Lockemirth Island, in the Caribbean.” He gasped, trying to get a hold of himself. “That is the purpose of the HMS Kilmartin being at sea. Once there, I will be in command of a very large sum of money and goods, I will give you half of it, for her safety and return.”

Henry pursed his lips and clicked his tongue as he considered the offer, then shook his head. “Three fourths of it.” He demanded, twisting a lock of your loose hair around his finger. “No less, Governor.”

Your father floundered for another moment, before his shoulders dropped and he nodded his head. “Fine.”

“Excellent.” Henry grinned, gripping your arm again and pushing your forward, towards the gangplank bouncing up and down between the ships.

“Wait, no!” You shrieked, turning and trying to get back to your father. “Father!”

“It'll be all right, Petal!” He shouted back, blocked by three of Henry's men.

“You can't!” You protested, pushing back against Henry as he hustled you forward.

“I can and I am.” Henry laughed, grinning at you, then tossed you over his shoulder and stepped onto the gangplank.

“Papa!” You screamed, flailing on Henry's shoulder.

Your father shouted your name back, but it was lost in the wind. The pirates disembarked from the Kilmartin and back onto the Crimson Jersey, careful that the Kilmartin crew didn't try to storm them and try to return the attack, in an attempt to rescue you. Once everyone was onboard, the gangplank was drawn back and the ships were separated.

In no time, the HMS Kilmartin was starting to disappear in the dying light of the horizon.

Henry kicked open the door of his quarters, then kicked it closed again, before setting you down in front of his desk. He crossed to one side of the room, plucking a bottle of dark green glass from a table, uncorked it and poured a brown liquid from inside of it into a goblet, tossing it back and poured himself another.

“You monstrous swine!” You growled at him, sneering at his broad back.

He turned towards you, lifting his glass in salute. “Aye!” He laughed and downed his drink again, before pouring yet another drink. “You'll be kept here, in my quarters, with me.” He informed you, sipping this glass.

“I would rather rot on deck.” You barked at him, upper lip twitching with disgust.

“Oh, that can be arranged, if my lady wishes it.” He chuckled, swirling his drink. “But, I must inform you, pet.” He set his drink down and approached you, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger and tipped your head back to look up at him. “It's been several months since my men have set a foot on land, so it's been many a month since they've had the pleasure of a woman's warm body.”

You gulped, your stubbornness starting to fail you.

“While I am far more educated and in command of myself, my men are not.” Henry continued, seeing the blooming realization and fear in your eyes. “So, you can take your chances with them, which you will have none, or you can stay in the relative safety of my quarters.” The register of his deep voice lowered. “Here, my men know better than to enter and anything inside is purely mine, under my protection.” He let go of your chin and strode to his door, yanking it open.

“Your choice.”

You stared at him, gulping and biting into your lip, but didn't move from the spot he had dropped you in, seeing the validity and safety of staying where you were at. A smile crept over his lips and he slammed the door shut again, seeing you had made your choice to stay in the safety only he could give you on board. He moved back to the table, pouring a drink into a second goblet and held it out to you, but you didn't move or say a word. He shrugged his shoulders at you and downed it instead, before taking up his first one around to his desk, settling himself in the high backed chair, to do the needed paperwork that came with piracy.

“Sit down.” He ordered you, motioning to a chair beside you. “Now!” He barked, when you didn't move.

Huffing at him, you pulled the chair sideways and dropped down into it, refusing to look at him or acknowledge his presence. None of which bothered him in the slightest, he was content in the quiet privacy of his mind and work, not paying you all much mind, other than making sure you stayed where he told you to be. After sundown, a soft knock sounded at his door and, at Henry's permission, opened to a crew member, who entered with a silver tray laden with food. He set the tray down on his Captain's desk, nodded his obedient head at him and left. Henry picked up one of the plates on the tray, then pushed the tray towards you.

“If you wish to starve, that's on you.” He commented, when you didn't move. “But, don't whine about it later.” He told you, tearing off a chunk of bread and popped it into his mouth.

Rubbing at his eyes in the dim candle light, Henry stacked his papers together and put them in the bottom drawer of his desk, locking it up with a key that hung around his neck, then stood. He toed out of his boots and crossed the room, hanging his sword and pistol on a hook by the door, removed the brown leather jerkin he was wearing over his shirt and hung it up on the same hook, then locked the door with the same key that was around his neck. He turned and regarded you, still sitting, motionless and sulky, on the chair in front of his desk and rolled his eyes.

“The stubbornness of women.” He huffed to himself, going to a set of heavy curtains to one side of the room.

“The ilk of men.” You growled back at him, angry eyes burning holes into his back.

Henry laughed, jerking back the curtains to reveal a bed behind them, then turned around to grin at you. “Something we agree on, pet.” He chuckled, amused, then sighed and reached behind his head, tugging loose the tight leather string that tied his hair back and shook his head, setting free a mop of dark cinnamon curls, that softened his look considerably.

“Lay down.” He ordered, jerking his curly head to the large, curtained bed.

You snorted at him. “No.”

“That wasn't a question, pet.”

“Don't call me that.”

“I'll call you what I want, now lay down.” He barked at you, eyes hardening.

You turned your own hardened eyes towards him, but didn't budge.

Growling deep in his throat, Henry took several long strides towards you, yanked you out of the chair and back over his shoulder, unphased by you beating on his back to be put down, then dropped you, bodily, onto his bed. With you where he wanted you, Henry turned towards the large bay window behind his desk and made himself comfortable on the cushions there, stuffing one of them behind his head, before dozing off.

You laid there, surprised he hadn't tried to force himself on you or the very least crawl into bed beside you. You half expected him to wait until you fell asleep to try something, but his soft snores soon reached you. Biting your lip, you sat up at the edge of the bed and looked over at him, he was laying half propped up, the quarter moon illuminating one side of his face. He wasn't faking, he was actually asleep. Sighing, you laid back again, your mind spinning, trying to work up the nerve to steal that key around his neck and escape. But, where would you go, once you did have the key and the door open? You had a ship full of his men, on an open ocean, where the ship had already put countless miles between you and the Kilmartin.

Perhaps, you could buy your time, until and in hopes, they made port, to wait for your father's word he had the ransom, then steal away, finding safety somewhere in the port until your father and the Crown could rescue you.

“Pirates.” You huffed, then drew the bed curtains closed, not wanting that bloody pirate to be the last face you saw before you managed to fall asleep.

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ghostwise · 3 years

Text

not a homecoming, but something like it

There are two men arguing in front of her home.

This is a nuisance, but not an uncommon one. Her neighbors are colorful and loud, so she’s used to people being in her way. Gente estorbosa. Normally she would’ve simply pushed past them to get to her gate. However, these are no neighbors of hers, and that makes her hesitate.

The two men are not speaking Antivan, but she knows enough languages to follow along, even with the street’s lively background chatter.

“This is a mistake,” one of them says.

“At least it’ll be in character, then,” the other replies.

Adelmar shifts the grocery basket on her hip, waiting. They’ll move on their own soon enough, she suspects. Or perhaps they’ll notice her and confront her for eavesdropping. Oh! Then they’d get an earful.

“I am being serious. Why would she remember me, hm?”

“You remember her.”

“That doesn’t mean anything—”

“I think it means more than you expected it to. I think that’s why you’re trying to back out at the last minute.”

Adelmar is not sure what the men are arguing about. She’d assumed their relationship to be contentious but now the shorter of the two steps close to his companion, looping an arm around his waist in an unmistakably supportive and affectionate gesture.

“If you really think this is a mistake, then let’s go, vhenan.”

Neither of them moves.

Adelmar clears her throat. Fascinating as the conversation is, she doesn’t have all day. She has dinner to get started, and her basket is getting heavy.

They turn to look at her, and she drops everything.

Tinned coffee and spices, parcels of lamb, and oranges, which roll out across the cobbled street.

“¿Zevran?” Adelmar’s voice is uncertain. She never expected to speak that name again, but those eyes and that hair…

“Zevran… Chivito. No puedo creerlo.”

The man Zevran is with has begun to pick up her groceries, although somewhat haphazardly, dropping one orange for every three he grabs. “You see?” he calls out, darting after a can and swiping it before it gets rolled over by a cart. “I knew she’d recognize you!”

And Zevran, the little boy she’d read stories to in the brothel, the same brown eyes, just taller, smiles at her like she’s singing a song and he’s in her lap again.

The scene, with all its noise and shouting in the background, and fruit rolling this way and that, feels briefly absurd. Is she imagining this? She has to make sure. She needs to just look at him. Stepping across a gap of decades (but it’s really only a few feet), she reaches for Zevran. She touches his face. Notices his tattoo. Frowns.

“Ay,” she murmurs, removing her hand. It is him.

He bursts out laughing.

“Qué gusto me da verte.”

Close by and with the biggest smile, Hamal Mahariel watches, holding the basket with all the groceries Adelmar has dropped.

It had come up in conversation, casually, a few days earlier. They had been investigating a mark, and Zevran, in the midst of planning and preparing, mentioned, “You know, I grew up near here.”

Hamal blinked. Sometimes he suspected that growing up meant something different for Zevran than it did for him. Did he mean he’d become a Crow here, just thirteen when he’d first killed?

When asked to clarify Zevran gestured at the map before them. He pointed a finger just a few centimeters from their present location.

“Rialto. I lived there before the Crows… acquired me.”

“Mm,” Hamal said, mulling it over. It was always a careful balance on his part to gauge whether it was alright to press for information, or better to let Zevran share at his own pace. But he was curious. Zevran seldom spoke of his early years.

“I’d love to see it, if you’re up to visiting,” he said finally.

“Perhaps. If we have time.” Zevran smiled warmly at him. “But really, amor, the place means very little to me. I have no childhood home, unless you count the brothel my mother worked at. I had no family. No friends. None that would remember me, anyway.”

Then why bring it up? Hamal wondered.

“Consider it a sentimental request from your husband,” he said.

Zevran rolled up the map quietly. He planted a quick kiss on Hamal’s cheek.

“That, I can do.”

Adelmar’s home is small and welcoming, with a tiny patio separating the living area from the kitchen and washroom. Her husband is away for a few days. Her children, grown and gone. She has all the time in the world. She wants to hear everything.

“How did you find me?” she asks, looking at Zevran with wonder. A part of her still can’t believe he’s here.

“We happened to be in Rialto. I… asked around.”

“You went to El milagro,” Adelmar guesses.

Zevran gestures noncommittally.

“I haven’t been there for years and years. It feels like a lifetime ago. I’m surprised anyone remembered, or knew enough to send you my way,” she said. “I’m surprised you looked for me at all…”

Adelmar takes a deep breath. She’s stirring up memories—old thoughts and feelings, few of them pleasant, otherwise she would find it nostalgic.

Quickly, she catches herself and shakes off the gloom. She sets a hand on Zevran’s shoulder.

“But I’m glad you did. I really am so happy to see you. Look at how you’ve grown.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should come,” Zevran admits. “My husband convinced me. He’s nosy. It is why I keep him around.”

He chances a glance at Hamal, who is staying well out of the way. His Antivan still being rather rusty, he’s left Zevran and Adelmar to their conversation, and is currently helping chop vegetables for a stew.

“Well I’m glad for that,” Adelmar says, looking between the two men and beaming. Little Zevran—at her kitchen table and married no less!

“I never forgot you, Zevran,” she tells him. “If I had moved a little faster, saved a little more money, I would have left and brought you with me. You were so smart. You were always moving, running around, playing. In the end, it seems we both escaped to better circumstances,” she says finally, closing her eyes and sighing.

“Thank the Maker,” Zevran adds solemnly. Adelmar smiles, pleased at his manners.

“I’m so glad you’re doing well. So tell me,” she scoots closer and looks at him eagerly, “What sort of life did you have, after you were adopted?”

“Adopted?”

By the kitchen counter, Hamal catches the subtle edge in Zevran’s tone. He pauses, holding the knife in his hand as a lull falls over the kitchen table, but he doesn’t know enough Antivan to guess what’s happened.

What’s happened is this: Zevran and Adelmar came from the same place, and know enough about that life to instantly understand that a lie has been told.

“Oh,” Adelmar breathes after a moment. “You… you weren’t adopted.”

Zevran lets out a laugh. It’s his ‘stalling’ laugh, and now Hamal is looking over, arms crossed, searching his face for clues.

“I was not adopted,” he says. “But do not trouble yourself over that.” Then, smoothly redirecting, he gets up and locks eyes with Hamal.

“Shall I boil some water?” he asks, switching out of Antivan.

The tense moment is gone. Hamal nods, glancing at Adelmar. “I’ll start the fire.”

There’s a reason why the kitchen is kept apart from the rest of the house. While the soup simmers, they bring their visit to the adjacent patio, where a cool breeze offers relief. Tree branches from the outside—from a tamarind tree growing in the street—have stretched out over the wall and blessed Adelmar’s patio with shade and fruit.

Hamal makes a face when he tastes it. Glancing at Zevran, he holds his gaze and waits just long enough to make it clear he’s less than partial to the flavor.

“So delicious, vhenan.”

Zevran laughs. “Wait until you try it in drink form.”

“If you make it, I am sure I will enjoy it.”

Adelmar, knowing she’s touched upon a shared hurt between her and Zevran, makes up for it by talking about anything else. She is particularly interested in their wedding, and is scandalized when she hears they’ve only been married a few weeks.

“I missed it!” she exclaims.

“It was quite sudden, my friend,” Zevran says, as if there’d been a chance of her attending. “Spontaneous. Just the two of us. Very romantic.”

Hamal taps the handcrafted silver band around his ring finger. He gestures at Zevran. “Él lo hizo,” he says in the most accented Antivan ever. “Muy, muy… bello.”

Dinner is delicious. Despite some language barriers, their conversation is easy and effortless. It’s also, intentionally, vague. Adelmar learns that they met in Ferelden, that they’re on an important journey, and that the journey is a dangerous one.

Most importantly, she also learns that Zevran’s heart has survived its rocky passage into adulthood, whole, if not unscathed. The core of the little boy she’d known in the brothel is there, even if he himself does not realize it. It brings her immense comfort.

The visit ends all too quickly, and though she asks them to stay the night, she isn’t surprised when they decline.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Hamal tells Zevran, who relays the message to Adelmar.

“You and Hamal are welcome, always,” Adelmar assures him. “Will you visit again?”

“If it is less dangerous,” Zevran says. “We were not followed here. But repeated visits might be difficult. Risky.”

“I understand. Not right away, then. When you can. We still have so much to talk about.”

“I would like that,” Zevran agrees.

They share one last hug, the three of them, and Adelmar watches them slip into the night.

“I need to brush up on my Antivan,” Hamal says. “But I enjoyed meeting her.”

“She liked you a lot,” Zevran says, smiling. Hamal laughs.

“You talked about me?”

“Of course. I had to show you off.” He winks at him. Then, with a soft intake of breath, Zevran looks away with his brow furrowed, the lines of his tattoo tense.

“… They told her I’d been adopted. All these years, and she had no idea. I’m almost sorry she had to find out otherwise.”

They’ve traveled for hours, leaving the city behind. Bright points of light shine overhead. The night sky of Antiva smells of jasmine and the distant sea.

“That’s awful,” Hamal says, looking at him.

“What a farce,” Zevran says bitterly. “Just like everything the Crows do. Operating in the open, but hidden from view. Buying children and lives while people look the other way.” Earnestly, his brown eyes black in the dark, he shakes his head. “It must end. It must.”

Hamal touches the lines of his tattoo, calloused fingers grounding him.

“Ma nuvenin, Zevran Arainai. It will.”

A short piece to introduce my OC, Adelmar Provencio. If you ever read my WIP For Suffering is Such a Part, you’ve met her through flashbacks already. While I love the idea of Zevran taking down the Crows alone, please consider, Zevran taking down the Crows with the support of a community, strengthened by the bonds he’s made in his life...

Adelmar plays a further role in the story, so hopefully I can write more for her!

#dragon age #zevran arainai #mahariel #zevran x warden #rinnywrites #oc: hamal mahariel #oc: adelmar provencio

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floresmarique · 3 years

Text

Hello! This is the first one shot i wrote that you can find on my Wattpad too! Also, sorry if there are some mistakes, i'm italian so sometimes i still struggle a bit with my english but i hope you like it ♡

Plot; You are a new pupil in the Cobra Kai dojo and to impress John Kreese you fight with his best student, Johnny lawrence. But Johnny will develop some special feelings towards you...

WARNING: This one shot will contain smut and a bit of violence.

Tags; oral, swallowing, a little bit of bully Johnny at the beginning and a tiny bit of fluff.

Enjoy!

Since (Y/N) was a kid, she always wanted to enter the fascinating world of Martial Arts but never had the economic possibility to afford the lessons.

But now that she was in California and her parents had a new well paid job, they encouraged her to join a Karate school and she couldn't believe that when they first told her about it with smiling faces.They always knew that (Y/N) wanted to learn Karate as a child and, with the new money they were making, her parents supported (Y/N)'s passion, which made her happy.

Everytime she came back from school, she always stopped by that dojo called 'Cobra Kai'. (Y/N) couldn't stop looking at the perfect moves of those boys, at their amazing grit.

But there was a thing that worried her; she never saw a girl inside the dojo.

Not having girls was kinda old minded and sexist in her opinion.

It's the 80s, for gods sake!

She thought.

But trying wouldn't be too bad, right?

So one day after school, she finally decided to enter inside that place and the first thing her ears heard were some screamed words by the boys. They all looked like soldiers and the Sensei looked like the captain.

"Strike first, strike hard, no mercy!" They shouted in unison and (Y/N) furrowed her brows.

What kind of motto was that?

She didn't know what she was supposed to do, so she just cleared her throat to catch their attention, hoping to not get humiliated by them or the Sensei.

The Sensei looked very rough and rude and the girl noticed that he had a cobra tattooed on his arm, he was the only one with a black gi while everyone else had a white one.

She always wanted to wear one.

The tall man walked towards her, trying to intimidate her with his glare but (Y/N) kept her head high and stared him in the eyes with a straight face.

"How can i help you?" He spoke with a slight grin on his face.

"I'd like to join your dojo."

After her answer, everyone bursted in a loud laugh and (Y/N) started to feel uncomfortable, especially with the man's glare on her.

"We do not accept girls." Was his simple response and she wasn't surprised about it, but disappointed for sure.

"Why not? Girls are capable of kick asses just like boys."

She didn't expect to be that bold, but did she care? No.

She wanted to challenge herself and demonstrate to those immature people that girls can be just as strong.

"That's very brave of you..." He started to slowly walk around her in a circle, only to stop again in front of her with his arms crossed. "I could give you a chance."

(Y/N) smirked, proud of herself while she took off her shoes to stand on the tatami. She was so excited and loved to see the disappointed looks on the boys faces.

"Let's see how good of a fighter you are, shall we?" The Sensei said and she nodded, repeating in her head the techniques she found in some martial arts books.

She felt ready.

"Lawrence, come here."

A blonde, tall boy with a muscular figure stood on the Sensei side, his expression was filled with anger. (Y/N) also noticed that he had a black eye and a black headband wrapped around his head. She couldn't deny that he was pretty hot, but she was too determined to get distracted.

"He's one of my best boys." Sensei smirked and the boys shared an amused look while sitting down on the tatami in a circle. "Good luck."

The man walked away and she and the boy remained at the center of the tatami in the attack position.

The blonde smirked before speaking.

"I'm gonna go easy on yo-" Before he could finish his sentence, (Y/N) kicked him right on top of his stomach, which made the boys howl in amusement. She was the one smirking now, standing again in the same position as before.

"I'm not gonna go easy on you, blondie." (Y/N) stated, and that was where the boy lost it. He started attacking her with punches and kicks that she perfectly shielded, just to punch him right in the face and kick him on his black belt, making him fall on his back.

Before he could stand up again, (Y/N) positioned herself on his lap and bent forward to put her hands under his shoulders to block him with her dead weight. She once saw that position on a book and it was kinda awkward to do since it looked like she was hugging him.

She could smell his sweat and a little bit of perfume, but she also could feel his warm breath against her forehead and it made her shiver a bit. He was attractive and being that close to him clouded her senses so much that she didn't hear Sensei's voice.

"Enough, you can stand up." He demanded.

When they both stood up, the blonde guy adjusted his gi and looked at her dead in the eyes while (Y/N) observed the shocked expressions of the other boys.

"What's your name?" The Sensei asked, walking towards her again. She tried to catch a little bit of breath before answering.

"(Y/N) (L/N)."

"Well, (Y/N), you're in. Consider yourself lucky, this is a privilege."

(Y/N) couldn't contain her happiness and a smile formed on her lips. She was proud of herself and she was sure that even her parents would have been.

"Thank you, Sensei." She said, but before he could respond, she heard the boy behind them speak.

"What?! Is this a joke?!" The same blonde blue eyed boy spoke. "I let her win, obviously. I bet she is not gonna resist a week here."

"Johnny, i'm the one who makes the decisions here."

So his name was Johnny.

Johnny Lawrence.

She heard of him at school, he was considered the 'bad guy' along with his mates but (Y/N) wasn't intimidated by them.

(Y/N) smirked and held out her hand for Johnny to shake.

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Johnny Lawrence."

He looked at her hand and then stared into her eyes with a killing glare.

"The pleasure is all yours."

Johnny refused to shake her hand and walked away, but that didn't wash (Y/N)'s smirk off her face because she had him exactly where she wanted.

She liked some rivalry.

Or so she thought.

For the next weeks, Johnny made her life a living hell.

He would tease her at school or he would start fights while she walked home, fights that (Y/N) either refused or won. Johnny had enough of that. He couldn't believe that a girl, a so innocent looking girl, could always beat his ass better than him.

On the other hand, Johnny also knew that he could hurt her bad if he wanted to, but the truth was that he didn't want to make her suffer. He didn't want to ruin her pretty face with a kick, so in a certain sense he let her always won.

Johnny knew about her even before she came into the dojo that day, he saw her multiple times around Ali or during P.E.

And he wanted her.

His friends thought that he still had his mind set on Ali, but he moved on as soon as he saw (Y/N) at school and when he saw her enter the dojo, his heart was beating so fast that he was afraid she would actually notice it. When she got on top of his lap to block him, Johnny smelled her hair and felt all of her warmth on his body.

And he got a boner too in that exact moment.

There was something about that look on her innocent face, about her fake naivety that he just loved and needed in every sense of the word.

He teased her only to be around her, only to hear her voice again even if it was just to tell him to fuck off.

But he wasn't the only one who was crushing hard on her.

Bobby, his mate, always talked about her to Johnny.

"I want to ask her on a date." He once told Johnny and the rage he felt inside was about to explode, but he couldn't let them know his feelings.

Not yet.

"Why would you do that mate?" Johnny scoffed. "Our plan is to kick her out of Cobra Kai. She will only cause trouble to our dojo. A girl, please, i don't know what Sensei was thinking. Everyone will laugh at us at the tournament because of her."

Johnny was talking bullshit.

She was perfect for Cobra Kai, she had determination and strenght that even some boys would envy.

She would kick everyone's ass at the tournament.

But he couldn't let Bobby ask her out, because he was sure that she would say yes. They always chatted a bit at the dojo during stretching and they even had two or three classes together.

"Johnny, i think you are exaggerating a little bit. She's a badass and god, so pretty."

And after that, Johnny knew that he had to make her his before Bobby would find the courage to ask her out.

And that time came soon.

After another lesson, (Y/N) went to the changing room to take a shower, as always. She was very surprised that there was a changing room for girls since she was the first one that was accepted, but she never questioned it and was pretty happy to have a whole changing room for herself.

She had plans tho, about revolutionating the whole Cobra Kai so that other girls could join in. She also wasn't a fan of their 'no mercy' motto, honor was much more important to her.

While cleaning up her body under the water, she mentally repeated all the things she learned during the last lesson so that she wouldn't forget them and she got so concentrated that she didn't hear steps inside the changing room.

She hummed 'Girls Just Want To Have Fun' while wrapping a towel around her wet body and stepped out of the showers while looking down, adjusting the towel.

"Ohh girls, just wanna have- what the fuck are you doing here?!" Looking up, she saw Johnny completely relaxed on the bench of the changing room, his hair were still a little damp and the blue tight sweater he was wearing perfectly hugged his muscles.

"So is it true, you just wanna have fun?" He raised an eyebrow and gave her a cocky smile.

(Y/N) blushed and wrapped the towel even tighter around her body, embarassed.

"Johnny, what the fuck are you doing here?" She repeated, her cheeks were flushed, both for the rage and embarassment. "Can't you read? It says girls changing room."

"I'm exactly where i'm supposed to be." He stood up from the bench and towered over her figure. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and started brushing her hair while looking into the mirror. "I just wanted to see my dear friend."

(Y/N) widened her eyes and scoffed, shaking her head.

"Friend?" She scrunched up her hair and stared at Johnny's reflection in the mirror. "Since when?"

"Since today." He crossed his arms and observed her, amused by the situation.

"Ok, well, friend" she turned around and sighed. "Can we be friends after i get dressed? We'll talk about this later outside of the changing room."

"Change here, i don't mind. You will not need clothes anyway pretty soon." He nonchalantly said, trying to hide his grin.

"Well i do mind actually, what the hell are-" before (Y/N) could finish her comeback, Johnny pressed his lips on her soft ones, completely shocking her. It was a short kiss, just to see her reaction.

When he pulled away, he stared into her eyes and saw shock in them, but also something that made him smirk.

Lust.

She didn't slap him or even tried to back off. Her slightly open lips and her red cheeks said it all, Johnny didn't need words.

He kissed her again, but in a more ferocious way, and she did the same thing. All the attraction they had for each other was coming out from their bodies and actions.

Johnny backed off while taking her with him, so that he would sit on the bench with her on top of him. She gripped his large shoulders and moaned a little bit when she felt his boner against her thighs. Johnny groaned and held her neck with one hand while the other easily took off the towel from (Y/N)'s still wet body.

"I've wanted to do this for so long." He sighed into her mouth and deepened the kiss. His hands were roaming on her body, not knowing where to stop. He touched her shoulders, her breasts, her arms, her legs.

Her skin was soft and the smell of her was driving him crazy. (Y/N) kissed his cheeks, his forehead and then his lips again, with a desperation that made Johnny even more turned on.

"I always wanted you too..." (Y/N) softly said and caressed his cheek while leaving wet kisses on his jawline and neck. Johnny closed his eyes and then opened them again, he needed to see her desperate for him. He needed to remember her face, her body, the pretty shades of her skin. He wanted her to be printed in his mind for the rest of his life.

"Yeah?" His voice was a lot deeper than usual and also rough. "Fuck, come here."

He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, feeling her little fingers on the buttons of his blue jeans. He knew that she wasn't as innocent as she made people think. And he loved it so much.

"Wait-" He spoke with a ragged breath. "Am i- am i your first?"

He searched for her eyes and when she kept looking down, he raised her chin with two of his fingers so that she could look into his blue eyes.

"Y-Yes." She stuttered.

She was ashamed, but Johnny felt like he was touching heaven with his fingertips.

Because she was the first one for him too.

"You are my first too." He admitted and lightly kissed the top of her nose.

"What about Ali?" (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows in disbelief.

"We never did anything like this, only some make out sessions...but never like this." He caressed her lips with his fingers and bit his lip, staring down at her naked body.

He thought she was perfect, every curve on her body was, and he felt lucky to have her in that moment. To even speak to her. She was a goddess for him and he knew he needed to keep her in his life forever, because someone like her would be too hard to forget.

She was something else.

"You know, we don't have to rush..." Johnny calmy said, his voice was soft now and he made sure to keep eye contact with her.

He cared.

"I know, it's fine, i want to do it." (Y/N) said, confident about her decision.

"You want to do it... in a changing room?" Johnny raised his eyebrow and (Y/N) giggled at his shocked expression while caressing his golden damp locks.

"Well, wasn't it your plan?" She asked with a grin and Johnny rolled his eyes, a slight blush was appearing on his cheeks.

"Sort of..." He sighed "I just, i don't want our first time to be here, i want it to be more intimate and special."

(Y/N) thought about that and realized that he was right. They didn't even have condoms and it would have been too uncomfortable to have sex for the first time on a bench, considering the pain.

"I guess you are right." She nodded and gave him a peck on the lips. "But... we could do something else..."

Her fingertips traced the line of his abs, covered by his tight sweater. Johnny inhaled some air and rested the back of his head against the wall, grinning at her.

"Well, that was what i had in my mind in the first place..." He winked at her and took her hand that was placed on his belly, just to place it down on the buttons of his jeans. "Let's see how good you are now..."

(Y/N) felt a certain warmth in her stomach at his words and stared at his eyes while unbuttoning his jeans, her fingers were fast and almost desperate to feel him. Johnny eagerly helped her lower his pants, his white boxers showed the prominent boner under them.

(Y/N) slowly got on the cold floor, on her knees between Johnny's legs. Her heart was beating fast against her chest, she felt heat all up in her body and a deep desire for Johnny. She never saw a dick before, except for that one time in her old city where one of her friends had an adult magazine at school and showed it to everyone, and (Y/N) was pretty grossed out by the view of a penis.

"Do you want it?" Johnny deeply asked, his eyes were filled with desire and lust.

"Yes." (Y/N) said and slowly lowered the waistband of his boxers, only to display his full hard lenght.

She didn't feel grossed out now.

Johnny noticed her surprised expression and softly laughed.

"Like what you see, baby?"

(Y/N) shivered at the pet name and nodded, taking his member in her hand to observe it better. Johnny slightly panted at that and gulped, wanting to feel her hand around him.

"Stroke it slowly, baby..." Johnny placed an hand on one of (Y/N)'s shoulders to keep her going.

She did as she was told and observed his eyes and expressions to understand if she was doing it the right way and, judging by his heavy pants, she was.

"Like that?" She innocently asked, pressing her palm on his lenght while stroking it.

"Fuck, yes, like that" Johnny was already a moaning mess, (Y/N) never saw him look more vulnerable than that and she liked to be the one that made him feel that way. The skin of his dick was smooth and warm and it was probably 7 inches long. The head was red and wet with pre-cum that (Y/N) decided to taste with the tip of her tongue, causing Johnny to groan.

"Oh, god- yeah, keep doing that baby..." (Y/N) smirked at his desperation and pressed her tongue on the head of his cock, licking it up and down. Her eyes never left his face, he looked completely gone to the pleasure.

He looked at her with half lidded eyes, his mouth was in a 'o' shape and he was starting to sweat, (Y/N) could see it on his forehead.

Johnny caressed her hair, encouraging her to take his lenght inside her mouth more. His legs were tensed and (Y/N) gripped his toned thighs while going down on him.

"Mmh..." Johnny closed his eyes and thrusted his hips a little forward, but still carefully and slowly to give her time. "Keep stroking it while you suck it, baby..."

(Y/N) welcomed his thrusts into her mouth and wrapped one hand around the end of his dick, stroking it a little faster. The changing room was filled with Johnny's moans and the sloppy sounds of (Y/N)'s mouth wrapped around him.

She could feel herself getting wetter by the second and felt the urge to touch the area between her legs for some friction.

"Oh shit, yes, yes, i'm so close, love-" Johnny took her head in his hands just to feel her movements and opened his eyes to stare down at her. The sight of the pretty girl he wanted for months on her knees with her swollen lips around his dick, were too much for him. "Baby, i'm about to cum-"

(Y/N) looked up at him and managed to show a little grin while staying on his cock, bobbing her head up and down faster than before.

Johnny took the hint; she wanted him to cum inside her mouth.

"Fuck, you want it don't you?" Johnny bit his lip and rested both of his hands on the sides of her face, his cheeks were flushed and his forehead was wet with sweat. "I'm coming, oh fuck, (Y/N)!"

(Y/N) stopped her movements but kept his lenght inside her mouth, she felt his dick contract various times and then a salty and warm liquid squirted on her tongue. His thighs tensed even more and he never left his grip on her face while riding off his orgasm. (Y/N) made sure to swallow everything till the last drop before letting his dick out of her mouth.

Both of them were breathing heavily and Johnny looked high, still trying to recover from the intense pleasure.

"Fuck" he sighed and smiled softly while watching her standing up. She had messy hair and flushed cheeks, her lips were pink and swollen and Johnny couldn't help but to kiss her. "You are incredible, baby..."

"Well, thank you!" (Y/N) giggled and Johnny stood up, kissing her again but only to make her sit on the bench, on the same place he was some seconds ago.

"But i can't let you go like this..." Johnny was now on the floor, gently opening her legs while staring into her eyes. (Y/N) was dying of embarassment, no one ever saw her intimate parts and she felt self conscious about it.

"Shh, don't worry, let me admire you..." Johnny could see that she was nervous and it was important for him to reassure her. He slowly parted her legs without breaking eye contact. Once he saw how wet she was, Johnny licked his lips and slightly smirked at her, amused by her embarassed expression.

"Do you want me?" He whispered, leaving a wet trail of kisses along her thigh. His blue eyes never left hers while doing so. (Y/N) tensed, feeling him that close to her private area was making her sweat. "Tell me."

"Yes, Johnny." She gulped. "I want you."

He took both of her legs and rested them on his shoulders, getting closer to her pulsating pussy.

"Even out of this changing room?"

(Y/N) smiled and nodded, but Johnny wanted to hear her.

"Tell me." He kissed her inner thigh, getting even more closer to her vagina.

"Yes." She panted. "I want you, always."

Johnny grinned and before (Y/N) could blink, he pressed his entire tongue on her aching pussy, making her moan. He kept looking at her, holding her legs with his strong arms and he started to move his tongue in circular motions on her clit.

"Oh, Johnny..." She gasped and tugged at his blonde hair. Everything was new to her, she never felt something like that and she would have never imagined it to happen with Johnny. She for sure dreamed about it, but never expected it to become reality.

"You like it, baby girl?" He asked her, his voice was deep and his lips red and shiny because of her fluids.

"Yes, Johnny, so much!" She moaned when the blonde started sucking on her clit like he was hungry. He was breathing heavily against her, she could feel his warm breath on her pussy and it made her crazy.

"You taste so good, love..." Johnny whispered and reached one of her breasts with an hand to gently stroke her nipple. "You're so beautiful, fuck."

With his other hand, Johnny teased her entrance with one of his fingers but never left her clit untouched. He slowly inserted the tip of his finger inside of her, feeling how tight she was. (Y/N) let out a light squeal at that.

"How do you feel?" He asked her and slowly pumped the tip of his finger inside her.

"It kinda burns, but it's okay." She panted and nodded.

Johnny repeated the same action and watched as she threw her head back in pleasure. He smirked and added a little bit more of his finger inside of her while applying pressure to her clit with his tongue. He felt her legs shake a bit and heard her ragged breath and he couldn't help but think that she was absolutely perfect in those conditions.

She was close and he could see it and feel it.

"Please, Johnny- Oh!" Hearing her moaning his name made him pump his finger faster with the movements of his tongue.

"What do you want?" He groaned against her.

"I want to cum, fuck!"

"Look at me." He demanded. He needed to have her eyes placed on him, it was like a kink for him. "I want you to look at me while you cum on my tongue..."

(Y/N) looked at him but keeping her eyes open was an hard task with that intense pleasure. She wondered where he learned to do that since he said it was his first time, but he probably just was a natural talent.

Just like her.

(Y/N) felt a weird sensation build up in her stomach, a very heavy feeling and she knew what that meant.

"Johnny, i can't!" She panted and tugged harder at his hair, making him groan.

"Cum then, cum for me (Y/N)..."

And she did.

She did while moaning his name repeatedly, trying to look at him while her toes curled behind his back. Johnny had a proud smirk on his wet swollen lips and licked her fluids with pleasure before standing up to kiss her sweetly on the lips.

(Y/N) still had a ragged breath and was recovering from her orgasm, but she was also scared.

What if he's gonna be an asshole again now and this was just a joke for him? She thought.

They both silently fixed themselves and (Y/N) finally got dressed. Her hair were almost completely dry and she didn't know how to act and wondered why he was so silent now, fixing his hair and clothes infront of the mirror. He looked like nothing happened while (Y/N) was still shocked.

"Will you go out with me this Friday?" He asked and turned around, resting his back against the wall. (Y/N) felt better after his question and gave him a smile.

"Well, usually, boys ask a girl out before they finger fuck her in a changing room-" she grinned and Johnny crossed his arms while letting out a laugh. "But sure, why not."

"Always a tease, aren't you?" He hugged her from behind and (Y/N) felt butterflies in her stomach while he rested his chin on top of her shoulder. "We could go to the Arcade, mh?"

Before she could respond, they heard the voices of the other boys outside of the changing room.

"Johnny!" They shouted. "We have to go, where the hell are you?!"

Johnny sighed and shook his head before speaking again.

"Seems like we are gonna need another shower when we get home, don't you think?"

(Y/N) giggled and gave him a fake disappointed look.

"Yeah, you jerk!" She laughed while putting on her shoes. Johnny gave her a peck on the right cheek and then proceeded to walk away. "Wait, Johnny, have you spied on me while i was under the shower?"

Johnny chuckled and turned his head to look at her.

"Doesn't matter anyway, now."

And after winking at her, he left the changing room with a big proud smile on his face. His mates were shocked when they saw him get out of the girls changing room and howled like little kids.

"Man, what did you do?!" Tommy asked while patting Johnny's shoulder.

Johnny shrugged and smirked.

"Nothing impressive, i'm taking her out on a date on friday."

Bobby was confused and Johnny could see the disappointment written all over his face.

"I thought you wanted to kick her o-"

"There are a lot of things you still don't know about me, dear Bobby" Johnny gave him a friendly slap on the cheek and then saw (Y/N) getting out of the changing room. She waved at everyone and gave a particular smile to Johnny, which he returned. "A lot of things."

#johnny lawrence #karate kid #cobra kai #80s #billy zabka #smut #johnny lawrence smut #one shot

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onlyfreds · 3 years

Text

Closer | F.W.

Title: Closer (High School!Au)

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: Fred Weasley is one of Hogwarts High’s most popular students. On the other hand, Y/N L/N is the school’s smartest. After the latter starts tutoring Fred, he starts to wonder why he had never noticed her before.

“I love you! No time to explain!”

Those were the words that started my relationship with Fred Weasley.

Nobody really expected that school’s smartest student would end up dating the most popular one.

But let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

It was started on a Monday morning at the Cafeteria.

“I thought you were supposed to call me?” My best friend, Jennie, said as she sat in front of me.

Unfortunately, I was too busy staring at the most popular (and most handsome) student in school, Fred Weasley.

I was pulled out of my trance by Jennie snapping her fingers in front of my face, “Hello? Are you even listening?”

I gave her a blank look, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I thought you were supposed to call me?” She repeated.

I smiled sheepishly at her, “Sorry, I was in such a rush this morning that I forgot.”

“Now that’s resolved.” She said with a small smile, “Who were you busy staring at?”

My eyes widened at her words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jennie playfully rolled her eyes, “You fully know what I’m talking about.”

She then turned to look behind her, exactly in the direction I was looking at earlier.

“Ooh.” She mused as I felt my cheeks heat up, “You were staring at Fred.”

I looked down at my hands, “I wasn’t.”

“Come on.” She said, slightly leaning forward “It’s not like I’m a stranger. You know that you can tell me.”

I looked up at her, “You promise you’ll keep it a secret?”

Jennie laughed, “When did I ever share your secrets to anyone else? I didn’t even tell anyone about the party you threw while your parents were away.”

“Fine.” I said, “I have a thing for Fred.”

She squealed, “Do you want me to put in a good word for you? He’s in my friend group.”

“What? No.” I said a little too quickly, “Besides, why would he be interested in me?”

“Why not?” Jennie said, giving me a look, “You’re practically the smartest girls in this school, not to mention the prettiest one too!”

I scoffed, “The prettiest? You flatter me, Jennie.”

“What?” She said, “It’s true.”

I rolled my eyes at her, “Come on, we’ll be late for class.”

“Fine. Fine.” She tutted, “But I can always- “

“Jennie!”

“Okay! I get it, you think that you’re not good enough for him.”

I sighed, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder, “It’s not that I think that I’m not good enough for him. It’s just that there are so many other better options that someone like him can choose from, and I’m not one of them.”

“Fine. Whatever you say.” She said as we entered the classroom.

Our Biology class was already dismissed for the day; I was packing up my stuff to leave when our professor called for Fred.

I already slung my bag over my shoulder, and I was about to head out of the door when our professor called me, “Miss L/N, can you stay back for a minute?”

I stopped in my tracks, turning around and slowly walking towards the desk where Professor Lupin and Fred were standing.

“Yes Professor?” I asked, slightly aware of Fred’s gaze on me.

“Mr. Weasley here may be having a bit trouble with the subject. Since you’re the best student in my class. I was hoping that you could tutor him?” He explained.

I swear that my heart started beating faster the moment he said that. He and Fred were looking at me in anticipation.

“S-sure.” I managed to stutter out, “T-that’ll be great.”

Professor Lupin smiled, “Brilliant. Just coordinate with each other what times would be convenient for the both of you. Now, you’re both dismissed.”

Fred and I headed out of the classroom together, walking in comfortable silence.

“Thanks.” He suddenly said, “For willingly spending some extra time so you could tutor me.”

I looked up at him for the first time since leaving the classroom, “Of course. Anything to help.”

He smiled, handing me a piece of paper, “My number’s written there. Maybe we could start this Friday, after class?”

I nodded, “Sure.”

“I’ll see you then.” He said before leaving me to go over to his friends.

I suddenly felt an elbow rest on my left shoulder as I gazed at the direction where Fred had gone.

“So,” A voice spoke, “Spill the tea.”

I turned and saw Jennie, sporting a grin.

“What tea am I going to spill? Chamomile? Mint?” I teased.

She rolled her eyes, gently pushing me as I laughed, “No silly, I’m talking about the tea on you and Fred. Though mint doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Well, Professor Lupin asked if I could tutor Fred and of course I agreed.” When I looked at her, she was gaping at me with anticipation.

“Go on.” She urged, “Continue.”

I shrugged, “That’s it, the end.”

“No way!” She said, “Come on, I know there’s so much more to that story. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“That’s really it.” I said.

She huffed, “There’s no fun in that.”

Friday came faster than I expected.

I walked into the cafeteria, where I was supposed to meet up with Jennie after I spent free period in the library.

I saw Jennie, talking to Fred, twirling her hair around her finger while she laughed.

On the other hand, Fred smiled at something Jennie had said.

The exchange went on for a while, Fred tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, to which she giggled.

I turned my back at the sight, shoving the hair out of my face as I started to make my way out of the canteen.

I just couldn’t believe it, after everything Jennie said, she was the one who had a thing for Fred all along.

I rushed to the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror, gathering up my composure and making myself look as presentable as possible before heading back to the canteen.

I saw Jennie sitting by our spot, once she spotted me, I gave her a small smile and sat right across her.

“Hey.” She said, “Where did you go? I saw you already arrived then the next minute you were gone.”

“Oh, I just went to the bathroom for a sec.” I said.

She studied me for a minute, “Have you been crying?”

You really can’t hide anything from your best friend, Jennie knew me too well.

“Yeah.” I admitted quietly.

She reached forward and squeezed my hand gently, “Why?”

“Because, um, remember the book that I read last week that made me cry?” I lied.

Jennie laughed, “Let me guess, you read it again?”

I chuckled, avoiding her gaze, “Yeah. I did.”

“Why did you reread it? I told you not to read it again.” She asked through fits of laughter.

“I’m sorry.” I said giving a chuckle, “I couldn’t help it.”

Jennie shook her head teasingly, “What am I going to do with you?”

I sat down at the far end corner of the library, tapping my fingers against the desk while I quietly hummed along to the song I was listening to.

To live for the hope of it all. Cancel plans just in case you'd call, and say, "Meet me behind the mall”.

I felt a small tap on my shoulder, I immediately pulled out one of the earphones and turned to see Fred standing behind me.

“Hey Fred.” I greeted as he sat down in the seat next to me.

“Hey.” He said, “So, can we get started?”

I stowed away my earphones in my backpack, “Sure. So, what topics do you need help with?”

He shrugged, taking about his textbook, “Our most recent lesson, the one about reproduction.”

That’s when we started.

“Mitosis basically involves the division of body cells and it produces two diploid somatic cells that are genetically identical to each other. On the other hand, meiosis involves the division of sex cells and it produces four haploid gametes that are genetically unique to each other.” I explained.

The ginger nodded, “So, mitosis produces identical cells while meiosis produces different ones.”

I smiled, “Exactly.”

Three hours later, Fred was able to grasp the concept.

“Thank you so much Y/N.” Fred said as we walked out of the library.

“No problem.” I said, “If you have any more questions, you can ask me anytime.”

With that note, we went on our separate ways.

The following weeks happened on the same routine, every Friday Fred and I would be at the library after class, working on whatever concept Fred couldn’t understand.

Later that month, we had a surprise pop quiz in Biology.

I was standing by the courtyard, taking a photograph of the sun as part of my project for photography club when I suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist and lift me up in the air, spinning me around.

“Woah.” I said with a small laugh as whoever it was had finally put me down. I turned and saw Fred behind me, a big grin gracing his features.

“Hey Fred.” I said, hopefully that he’ll mistake my red cheeks for the heat, “What’s up.”

He grinned even wider, before pulling a piece of paper out of his bag and handing it to me.

I looked down at it, realizing that it was the pop quiz we had in Biology. And next to his name was the letter A in red ink.

“I got an A on the test.” He said, “I have never gotten an A before!”

I smiled at him, “Congrats! After all the hard work you’ve been doing, you totally deserve it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have done it without you.” He said.

I chuckled, “I only helped you understand it, you were still the one who answered the test.”

“But I wouldn’t be able to answer it if you didn’t help me understand it.” He insisted, “And as a token of my appreciation, I got you this.” Fred then handed me a red box which contained chocolates inside.

“Thanks.” I said, looking up at him.

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “No, thank you.”

(Fred’s POV)

It’s been a month since I started having tutor sessions with Y/N. I know that she’s one of the smartest people in school, but I don’t know why I didn’t notice her before.

My siblings and I were hanging out by the courtyard, talking about the Biology lesson that had been discussed an hour ago.

“That lesson had been the easiest one ever.” George said.

“Yeah.” Ron agreed, “I have no interest in biology whatsoever, but I have to say this is the concept that I was able to grasp in one lecture.”

“How about you Freddie?” Ginny asked, “What did you think of the lesson?”

I nodded, half of my mind in a daze, “Yeah, it was easy.”

Then I saw Y/N passing by, unaware that I was cutting off a conversation my siblings were trying to get me engaged in, I called out her, “Hey Y/N!”

She turned her head towards me, “Yeah?”

“Can we meet up this Friday? I kinda got confused with the lesson today.” I requested.

She nodded, offering a small smile, “Sure. I’ll see you then.” She said before walking off to her best friend.

I couldn’t keep the smile of my face as I turned my attention back to my siblings, who were now gaping at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You just said no more than five minutes ago that you found the lesson easy and now you want to meet up with Y/N a.k.a. your tutor?!” He asked.

I felt my cheeks heat up as I looked down at my hands, not answering the question.

My sister nudged Ron, “Honestly Ron, are you that blind? It’s obvious that Freddie’s in love with Y/N.”

“Aaw.” My twin cooed, reaching forward to ruffle my hair, “Freddie’s in love.”

I swatted his hand away, “I’m not in love.”

Ginny snorted, “As if we’d believe you Freddie. With all the gifts you’re giving her? The chocolates? The flowers? You almost decided at giving her a necklace at one point. Don’t tell me that it’s ‘just a token of your appreciation’.”

“And the way you would never shut up about her? Please Fred, you could do some much better than that.” George chimed in.

I sighed, feeling the blush on my cheeks transition to a darker shade, “Okay fine. She’s this wonderful angel that I’m pretty sure dropped straight down for heaven. I’m such an idiot for not noticing her sooner. And, with prom coming up next week, I’ve actually been meaning to ask her.” I confessed.

(Reader’s POV)

Fred and I were sitting in the library, chatting with each other and not really getting any work done.

“Okay. Okay.” I said after recovering from a laughing fit after Fred told me a story of him and George during their younger years, “But, we have to start on whatever you don’t understand because that’s what we’re here for.”

Fred smiled, “Actually. I understood it just fine.”

I gave him a confused look, “Then why did you asked to meet up?”

He smiled, taking out a bouquet of roses and handing it to me, “Well, since prom is happening in a week. I was wondering if you would be my date?”

I stared at him, awestruck. The Fred Weasley, the most popular guy in school, wanted me to be his date for prom?

“As a friend?” I asked.

He licked his lips, fiddling with the end of his shirt, “Well, I was wondering if you could actually be my date. But if you want to go as friends then it’s fine.”

I grinned, standing up and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I would absolutely love to.”

“Great.” He said, his cheeks being painted with a shade of crimson, “I’ll pick you up at eight?”

I giggled, “That sounds like a great idea.”

“My girl’s already grown up now.” My mum cooed, as my father put an arm around her while I walked down the stairs in my y/f/c prom gown.

“How do I look?” I asked nervously, biting my bottom lip.

“Sweetie, you look absolutely wonderful.” My father said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

We suddenly heard the doorbell ring.

“Oh, he’s here!” My mum said as she opened the door, my father following suit.

From my spot at the staircase, I caught a glimpse of him. I swear, I could’ve fainted from how handsome he was.

“Is Y/N ready?” He asked, the grin evident in his voice.

My mum nodded, “Y/N, honey! Fred’s here!”

I came into view, Fred’s jaw visibly dropping as he saw me.

“Hey there beautiful.” He said, his eye dropping into a wink.

I smiled, looking down at my feet, “Thanks.”

He then offered his arm, and I took it as my mum said, “Have fun you two!”

Fred grinned, “We will!”

We both arrived at the venue an hour later.

We had a great time dancing the night away with no one else but each other.

Then came the moment wherein they would announce the prom king and queen.

“Now, I don’t want to keep you waiting anymore.” Professor Lupin said as one of the members of the student council handed him an envelope, “And the tonight’s prom king is none other than: Fred Weasley!”

A roar of applause echoed through the hall as I gently nudged Fred towards the stage as he was awarded with the sash and the crown.

From the rumors that I heard, Jennie was in the leading position for prom queen. So, I would exactly be surprised if she won.

“And now.” Professor Lupin continued as the roars and cheering died down, “For this year’s prom queen, it is none other than: Y/N L/N!”

What? I was prom queen? How did that happen?

Ginny nudged me gently, snapping me out of my thoughts, “Go on.” She urged, “They’re waiting for you.”

Fred was looking at me with a huge grin as I made my way to the stage, last year’s prom queen giving me the sash and the crown.

After the pictures has been taking, it was time for Fred and I to lead the first dance.

He lifted my hand and grazed his lips along the knuckles, “May I have this dance, my queen?”

I giggled, “Yes you may.”

As it grew deeper into the night, Fred and I were walking through the gardens under the starry sky.

“Thanks for being my date.” He said with a small smile.

“Of course, thank you for asking me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “Well, can I confess something to you?”

I nodded, “Sure.”

Fred turned to face me and suddenly said, “I love you! No time to explain.”

Before I could even open my mouth to say ask what he meant, he suddenly crashed our lips together, my waist fitting perfectly into his hands as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Be my girlfriend?” He asked as we pulled apart.

I smiled, “I would want nothing more.”

Fred grinned as he started to attack my neck with open-mouthed kisses, “Think we should go somewhere private?”

“Absolutely.”

It was a week since prom, and it just proves that news and rumors travels fast around school.

“So Fred,” Jennie asked, twirling her hair around her finger, “I heard you have a girlfriend, who is the lucky girl?”

Fred caught my eye from across the way, beckoning me towards him.

“C’mere baby girl, don’t be shy.”

I smiled, walking towards him as he placed an arm around my waist and pressed a kiss on my cheek, causing my best friend’s jaw to drop.

Fred grinned, “I actually like to think that I am the lucky guy to be dating not only the smartest, but also, the prettiest girl in the school.”

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

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#fredweasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasleyimagines #fred weasley fluff #fredweasleyfanfic #fredweasleyoneshots #fredweasleysmut #fred weasley angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley headcanons #hpimagines #hponeshots

158 notes · View notes

naruto-scenarios-plus-akatsuki · 3 years

Note

Are you going to make a part 3 for the Neji one where he has a crush on the branch member and ten ten and Lee find out. You don’t have to but I really enjoy it!😁

Well it took me a lot longer than expected but I say that about all my work now, lol. Sorry everyone I’m a slow writer. But I hope you all enjoy the final piece to this fic.

Part I Part II

Welp! The secret is out, Neji: Part III

The look in Neji’s eyes of pure unfiltered irritation was a look that Tenten would never forget. The minute that you stepped out of the room, Neji had quickly fixed his glare on the two of them. His voice left a chill in the air as he told them to get out with the most even tone. Lee began to apologize, fumbling over his words in his stark surprise.

Tenten’s eyes had snapped way from the cup of tea Neji knocked over in Lee’s hands purposely while your back was turned. She couldn’t believe her eyes and her head was still trying to wrap around the events that transpired. She had to grab Lee to leave when she saw Neji’s fists tighten while he closed his eyes. She knew in that moment that Neji did not want any apologies. He was holding back his anger, so she made a quick getaway towing Lee with her, even while he was still apologizing.

Tenten could only hope that Neji would find it in his heart to forgive Lee for spilling the beans. She knew how private of an individual Neji was; especially, when it came to expressing feelings. She was afraid that this might be the last time he would trust them with his secrets. She sighed, knowing this was a delicate situation.

Lee was currently wailing about his woes while they waited in the training fields for Neji and their sensei.

“I can’t believe I spoke so carelessly.”

“It’s alright Lee,” Tenten tried to console, half-heartedly. “I’m sure Y/N didn’t catch on” at least Tenten hoped and she hoped Neji wouldn’t hold a grudge for too long about the incident either.

“How will Neji ever forgive me?” Lee continued to whine, but then jumped up at an idea. “I know! I’ll offer to do his laundry, or I could buy him some tea.”

“I don’t think Neji’s going to let you touch his laundry.” Tenten shot down, knowing Neji probably had a precise way of doing it and who’s to say if he would really let his whites be washed by Lee. “And… I don’t think tea would be a good gift after what just happened,” she mentioned thoughtfully.

Lee slapped his forehead and exclaimed, “Of course! Not tea! That would definitely remind him of my transgressions. But what can I give then? What can I do?”

“Well…” Tenten started but she was a little lost too.

Neji wasn’t much into sweets, nor was he really into gifts of any kind. Tenten had placed her hands on her hips and was continuing to think of what could appease Neji when he appeared on the training field. Both team members were surprised.

“Neji!” they both exclaimed but Tenten was the first to stutter out a response.

“You’re back so soon.” That had her worried. They barely rushed out thirty minutes ago.

“Yes.” Neji’s tone was flat.

“Is everything okay?” Lee asked, concerned.

“Perfectly,” He spoke shortly. His eyes sharp, but his expression was blank. “Lee shall we get started?”

Neji spoke so coolly that Tenten felt a chill run up the back of her neck. Lee easily agreed to start sparring with Neji; wanting to do anything to please him at that moment. However, Tenten could easily see that Neji was not at all at peace. His strikes were fierce against Lee. It was obvious that Neji wanted to pacify his anger and direct it at Lee. Training was the perfect guise for that.

Lee took everything that Neji had. He would block hits and strike with his own but there was a lack of effort on Lee’s part. He fell to the ground many times but kept getting back up to take what Neji had in store for him.

During their skirmish, Gai arrived and stood beside Tenten. He spectated his pupils with interest and noticed right away something was off.

“My intuition is telling me something is off between the two of them.”

“Your intuition is not wrong,” Tenten replied. Her brows were furrowed down in concentration. Her teammates were typically rough with each other, which is why she had little concern, but she was worried about Neji holding a grudge over them for a long time.

“Say you wouldn’t happen to know what this is about, do ya?” Gai questioned. “Neji’s attacks seems to be very targeted at Lee with blunt force and normally, Lee holds a better stance than that and seems to be putting in less effort as if he’s conflicted.” He reasoned, his voice calm.

Tenten sighed. “You’re not off point. Lee accidently confessed to Neji’s crush that he liked them. I don’t think Neji was ready to tell them yet.”

“Ah, yes. A young man’s love can often stir up the fire in his being,” Gai nodded to himself for a moment, stroking his chin. Then once he came to a decision, he patted Tenten on the shoulder and gave her a thumbs up. “I got this.”

She sweat dropped, not sure if her sensei would make things worse, but before she could say anything Gai was already breaking up Neji and Lee’s sparring session.

“Alright that’s enough. Lee why don’t you continue training with Tenten. Neji, come and walk with me,” Gai directed. He put a hand on Neji’s shoulder briefly to signal for him to follow, leaving Lee and Tenten to their own devices.

Neji followed out of respect. He was still feeling grim and annoyed on the inside. When the two of them were far enough away from his teammates, that’s when Gai addressed the issue.

“So, I hear Lee had spilled the beans to the one who has your affections”

“I think Tenten should not be repeating Lee’s mistake and learn to keep her mouth shut.” Neji’s eyes narrowed and his voice was cold once more. He knew exactly who had informed Gai about the situation and it annoyed him further.

“Tell me about the one that ignites the fire inside your being,” Gai prompted, not at all bother by Neji’s display.

“I rather much not talk about it. Especially after today's events,” Neji mumbled, his cheeks tinting slightly red. This was something he did not want to talk about with his sensei of all people.

Gai nodded, understanding Neji’s hesitancy and ignoring it. He understood how Neji operated after three years of training him and he doubt his other students meant to cause such trouble for him. Their intentions probably meant well but a small slip of the tongue probably left Neji in a very unwanted situation. Gai knew that the Hyuga clan which Neji belonged to highly respected privacy and lacked open affection.

His face was serious and did not scold or reprimand him in tone when he continued.

“When I was a young man, I found one such as you did that ignited the fire within my loins. They were beautiful and caught my eye. Not only was my eye caught, but others as well stared at their beauty. I wanted so badly to catch their attention like they caught mine, but alias, my rival had won them over before I could. Yet! I knew to not give up the chase and at least make my affections known.”

“And?” Neji asked simply, not sure where his sensei was going with this. “Did they return your affections?”

“No,” Gai answered and Neji deadpanned.

“Then what is the point of your story?” Neji asked a bit impatient due to feeling uncomfortable.

“That you never know how someone feels unless you try. The one who caught my affections never carried the same affection for me, but their affections were also not returned by Kakashi either. My courage in telling them (despite how they had felt about me) gave them courage to make known their own affections. One just has to come forward in order for any two to be together. You see what I mean Neji?”

“Yes…” He admitted.

“If you like this person, there will never be nothing more if you never tell them how you feel. You’re young and with the life we live, you never know when your last day is coming. It’s better to say all that is on your heart now, than to have it on your mind during your last breath,” Gai mentioned somber.

He stepped forward towards Neji and patted him on the shoulder, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Now why don’t you skedaddle and take a moment to reflect. Come back when you have settled what is in your heart. And try to forgive Lee and Tenten.”

With that Gai took his leave and vanished into the trees.

Neji took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He was still slightly annoyed but not so much anymore. He knew Lee didn’t mean to say what he had on purpose and he knew Tenten only wanted to help and make peace of the situation. His teammates were cavalier at times, but they were good and honest friends of his. What had really annoyed him was himself for not telling Y/N how he felt sooner and not knowing if you even felt the same.

He hated to admit it but Gai was right. He had no way of knowing how you felt unless he were to confess his own feelings first. He wouldn’t have been so bothered if he didn’t let the fear of the unknown keep him from revealing himself. He could never be with you, if he kept his feelings locked inside unless he had the courage, or you did.

With that, Neji took a slow walk back to the Hyuga compound. He was stalling as he was mauling over what to say to you. He wanted to make things right for earlier as well. He had upped and dashed. He caused a spill you had to clean up. He felt guilty and rude for doing so.

He passed by some wildflowers on his way and picked a few white and yellow daises. He twirled them in his hand, wondering if that was sufficient as his mind ran. When he got to the Hyuga compound, he headed towards his personal corridors and went to his kitchen, looking for something meaningful. He grabbed a tray and started preparing an array of snacks on said tray. He then took an extra step to start squeezing some lemons to make lemonade for you since he knew you did not care for tea. Lemonade was your favorite drink. He grabbed two cups to place on the tray next to the pitcher and the flowers he picked for you neatly placed along the snacks.

When he was ready, he took the tray and headed to your quarters. He knew exactly where you resided. He braced himself as he stood in front of your door. He knocked, trying to steel himself.

When you opened the door, you took his breath away. You weren’t dressed up, but your natural beauty and lovely lavender eyes made him lose himself slightly. You had appeared in your normal attire that you were wearing before he left, your curse seal left uncovered. Your hair was down and cascaded round you.

“Neji?” You questioned, surprised to see him at your door holding a tray out to you. “What is this?”

“An apology for earlier.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to.”

“I do, because I had created the mess earlier when my teammates were here,”

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth formed an o-shape.

“But that’s not all,” Neji continued. “I wanted to do this for you because I like you.”

“I…” You were stunned and felt your heart flutter at the confession. “I like you too, Neji.”

“Would you like to have refreshments with me?” Neji asked more confidently, but there were still butterflies flying around in his stomach.

You smiled in awe at his gesture and were overwhelmed with joy. “Yes.”

With that you followed Neji out into the courtyard, where you two sat and got to know one another better and enjoyed the fresh lemonade he made especially for you. You were finally happy to have gotten answers, that the one you always admired had you written in his heart. Both you and Neji being grateful to his teammates for letting the secret out.

#neji #neji hyuga #neji scenario #neji imagine #Neji Hyuuga #Neji Hyūga #neji x y/n #neji x reader #welp secrets out #rock lee #tenten #branch member #gai

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averykedavra · 3 years

Text

wherever we are (it feels like home)

Good evening, I am exhausted and here is a fic for my friend @rain-bound because Rain asked for prinxiety and I decided to deliver, three weeks later, at ten at night. Enjoy this self-indulgent hurt/comfort, because I’m about to collapse into bed and sleep for seventy years. You’re the best, Rain <3

(Title from End of the Earth by MARINA. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Words: 8463

Pairing: Romantic Prinxiety

Warnings: lots of angst for both Virgil and Roman, mentions of the other Sides but they don’t appear, self-deprecation, anxiety and borderline panic attacks, self-hatred, identity issues, crying, and kissing

Three days.

That’s how long it took for Virgil to mess it all up. Three freaking days.

Honestly, he wasn’t even that surprised--if there was one thing he was good at, it was messing stuff up. Thomas had the chance of a lifetime. The person of a lifetime. Virgil had done something good, something brave, and now Thomas had a date.

It was too good to be true.

So he’d messed it up.

They’d been texting, and Thomas had sent a text where the tone was way off--like, way off, like Nico-probably-hated-them-off, and yeah, it was a bit hasty to say that after one text but--but then Thomas tried to apologize and hit send before he was done--and then Nico called them--and Thomas couldn’t talk on the phone, he’d sound stupid and what would he say and no--

Virgil made Thomas deny the call.

The call from Nico. Who knew they had their phone with them. Who knew they weren’t busy.

When Thomas stopped the ringing, a deafening silence filled the room.

He hadn’t even called Nico back--Logan said something about calming down, which was fair, because Virgil was hyperventilating in the corner. Logan counted with him. Logan steadied him.

Logan said it was okay. That one mistake, especially one so small, wouldn’t jeopardize everything. Logan said that things wouldn’t always be so fragile. They’d fall into a rhythm. And for now, they’d fix things.

Virgil tried to breathe. Tried to believe him.

And still knew he’d come so terrifying close to losing everything.

It was so easy. That’s what they’d all learned that day. If Virgil messed up, just a bit, their relationship went down the drain. It wasn’t the point that things got fixed, that Thomas apologized and everyone moved on--that didn’t replace how delicate things were, how everyone was newly aware that this whole thing could shatter if Virgil stepped wrong.

If any of them stepped wrong. But Virgil, it was obvious, was the weak link.

Virgil was going to ruin this.

Of course you’re not, Patton said. Patton said it wasn’t his fault, that they’d all panicked. Patton said he was doing great.

That’s illogical, Logan said. Logan said anyone could have made the same mistake. Logan said Virgil had helped so much already.

Janus hadn’t said anything--Janus had been hanging around a bunch recently, which Virgil wasn’t really on board with, though he hadn’t given Virgil an excuse to yell at him yet--but he’d given Virgil a slow nod.

Thanks, Thomas said when everything was said and done that afternoon. Always keeping me on my toes, Virgil. I appreciate it.

And that would have been enough. It would have been way more than enough.

But there was Roman.

Roman, who was already infatuated with Nico. Roman, who grabbed Virgil’s hands and spun him around that first day, laughing, smiling so much that Virgil’s heart could have burst. Roman, who’d said this is it, called it their newest chance at happiness, and told Virgil he was brave.

Roman cared so deeply about this. He’d been so quiet recently, so hesitant, and it made Virgil burn with a worry he didn’t recognize. The kind of worry, the kind of care, that made Virgil warm and energized and terrified for someone other than himself.

He didn’t really know what that meant. He’d probably be able to figure it out if he thought about it. He decided not to think about it.

Roman. That was all he needed to know. Roman.

Roman, who had ignored him all day, who had picked at his food and not spoken to anyone, who had flinched when Virgil said his name before mumbling something and excusing himself.

Roman, who was upset with him.

That realization made Virgil feel like he was breathing in shards of glass. He’d retreated to his room, done some breathing exercises, and tried to think through it. Roman was mad about what had happened, Virgil knew it--maybe he thought Virgil didn’t care as much as he did. Which was so wrong. Virgil cared just as much as Roman did, because Roman did.

Maybe he thought Virgil did it on purpose. Maybe he was just angry that another chance could be wasted because Virgil couldn’t stop messing everything up.

Virgil was terrified.

Virgil was worried.

Virgil was worried that Roman was not okay. Against all his better judgment, he wanted to ask Roman how Roman felt.

And Virgil was terrified to confirm that Roman hated him--terrified he might make things worse--terrified to see Roman would turn him away--because anyone’s scorn would hurt him but Roman--Roman. Virgil couldn’t think of anything worse than Roman being upset with him.

Well, actually, he could.

Roman being upset.

Roman was upset. And even though Virgil was scared, that didn’t matter right now, because Virgil needed to do something.

That something was apologize. Virgil needed to apologize. And Roman could do whatever afterwards. Virgil’d be fine with Roman hating him afterwards as long as Roman knew he was sorry.

Maybe that’d help. Maybe that wouldn’t. Maybe Virgil didn’t care, because he was done standing by.

Roman had called him brave.

He was going to be brave.

That night, after everyone was asleep or doing a good enough job of pretending to be, Virgil crept down the hall to Roman’s room.

He should have come earlier. Roman was probably asleep, too. But Virgil was nocturnal by this point, and he’d only just managed to work up the courage, and he’d lose it again if he waited a second longer.

Okay, he was already losing his courage. He could feel it slipping away, replaced by panic-anxiety-fear-worry that made him dig his hands deeper into his pockets and take a few strangled breaths. This was fine. This was fine! He would check up on Roman, apologize, and hopefully not be told that he was a terrible friend. Yeah. Yeah!

“Yeah,” Virgil told himself, his voice sounding off in the darkened hallway. “Knock. Come on.”

Slowly, he forced one hand out of his hoodie and balled it in a fist. He took another deep breath. It made his head spin.

This was a terrible idea.

But he was going to be brave right now, and he was going to check on Roman, and--and whatever was going to happen would happen. Nothing he could do about it.

Virgil held his breath and knocked once.

He tried to keep it to a gentle tap--’cause maybe he’d have plausible deniability, say he bumped the door while going to bed, and maybe Roman wouldn’t hear it at all and Virgil could just go back to his room and pretend everything was fine--but Virgil swore the sound echoed three times around the hallway. He pressed himself into the shadows and waited for someone’s door to open. Nobody came to check on him. They were all asleep.

Like Roman probably was. And now Virgil was going to disturb him, wake him up, and Roman always complained about losing beauty sleep--what was Virgil doing--

Helping a friend.

Virgil knocked again, louder, and resisted the strong impulse to curl into a ball and hide.

There was a long, dark, silence.

Virgil could run. He could just--he could just run, bolt for his room, and say it was a prank from Remus if anyone asked--

“Who is it?”

Virgil’s breath caught. Roman’s voice was sleepy but sharp, and he heard Roman walk towards the door. The knob turned.

Run.

This was Roman. Roman was fine. Roman was safe--Virgil knew he was safe. Roman wouldn’t hurt him.

Virgil stayed still.

The door cracked open. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Virgil forced out.

Roman’s head peeked around the door. He had a severe case of bedhead, with hair flopping over his eyes and pushed up at the back like he’d run his fingers through it. Virgil found that ridiculously adorable.

“Virgil!” Roman said, and for a second, he seemed about to smile. Then it faded. Then it was just Roman, blinking tiredly at Virgil with bags under his eyes, his mouth drawn in a thin line. “What do you need?”

“I, um--” Virgil had prepared a quick speech for this. He couldn’t remember a word of it. It--it included the word ‘and,’ right? Definitely ‘and.’ Maybe ‘but,’ too. “I--I know it’s really late, and I’m sorry, but--” There! Nailed it. “But I need to talk to you.”

“Hmm?” Roman seemed to shake himself all the way awake. His mouth drew tighter. “Talk about what?’

Virgil hesitated. “Nico.”

“Nico,” Roman repeated. “Nico?”

“Nico,” Virgil agreed. He probably sounded so stupid, just parroting Roman, but he couldn’t think of what else to say. “So can I--is this a good time--of course it’s not, you’re asleep, but--”

“I--actually, I was awake, it’s alright.” Roman pulled the door a little wider. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Virgil nodded, swallowed, and let Roman lead the way into his room.

The only lights were a string of fairy lights and a lamp by the desk. They cast a dim golden glow over the room, leaving the red as ashy shadows and the white as creamy dust. Virgil stumbled over something on the floor, and when he looked down, he saw several piles of clothes and bits of paper strewn across the floorboards. The carpet was kicked to the side. Virgil straightened it automatically, and saw a stain in one corner, and a worn patch that dragged over the boards in a way that suggested it was a few days from falling apart.

Outside the window, Roman had chosen a city skyline--dots of white and red filling the sky, lights strung along the buildings like square beads, airplanes blinking their way from place to place. If Virgil breathed in deep, he could smell Roman in this room, like always. Roman smelled like fresh paper. Like rose petals. Like cinnamon. Like something warm and cozy, and Virgil could never get enough of it.

Roman gave Virgil a strange look, and Virgil frantically tried to look like he hadn’t just been smelling Roman’s room like a total creep.

“Sit down, if you’d like,” Roman said, collapsing onto the bed and kicking his legs onto the pillows. Virgil hesitantly perched on the desk chair. Several notebooks spilled across the desk itself, and Virgil quickly looked away. It felt weird to see Roman’s stuff like this--it always did.

Virgil loved Roman’s room, but it wasn’t where he belonged. It was Roman’s space. Virgil was just a visitor--an intruder--an unwelcome guest who ruined the smell of parchment and clashed with the red on the walls.

Virgil loved Roman’s room, but Roman’s room didn’t love him back.

“So,” Roman said, and Virgil realized Roman had been watching him. In the shadows, Virgil couldn’t pick out Roman’s expression--and that set him on edge in a way he didn’t expect, because he knew Roman, and he’d at least banked on being able to read him. Now? Roman could be angry. Roman could be tired. Roman could be any number of things, and Virgil couldn’t tell.

Virgil took a deep breath for like the twentieth time that night and tried really, really hard not to panic.

Roman’s room did make it easier. It was relaxing that way. Maybe it was a thing like Virgil’s room making people more anxious, a side effect of Roman’s power. Maybe it was just because it was Roman’s. Either way, Virgil found that if he tried--if he really tried, and didn’t think about anything except, like, cupcakes--he could avoid entirely breaking down.

Great. Now he had to actually talk.

“So,” Virgil said, an embarrassingly long time after Roman had spoken, but too late to worry about that now. “Um--Nico?”

“Yep, we’ve...we’ve established that one, stormcloud,” Roman said, a touch of fondness in his voice. “We’ve made that clear. Next we go into details.”

“Details. Yeah.” Virgil nodded way too fast. “Cool. So--um.”

“Are you going to talk, or…” Roman laughed a bit. It was a short, sharp laugh, but it was soft enough to make Virgil relax a bit. “It’s okay if you don’t, but I did figure you called this little meeting for a reason, emo.”

“I did,” Virgil protested. “I just--ugh, I don’t know where to start, I--” He looked around. “Um--how are you?”

“What?” Roman was quiet for a second. “I’m...quite princely and glittery, as usual, why do you ask?”

“You--you sure?” Virgil scuffed his toe into the carpet. If Roman wasn’t okay, that was something to talk about--that was maybe a reason he’d avoided Virgil that wasn’t anger--and Virgil was such a coward. Why’d Roman ever call him brave? “Your, um--your room’s a bit of a mess.”

“I suppose I must admit that,” Roman agreed, sitting up and giving the floor a betrayed look. “I’ve been so wrapped up in projects that I’ve hardly had time to clean up.”

“You could have asked one of us,” Virgil said. “I could have, y’know, swept the place a bit. Cleaning’s, like, relaxing for me. I know you don’t really like people in your room, though.”

Roman’s eyebrows came together. “Who told you that?”

“No one?” Virgil blinked. “I just--I mean, I guess I just assumed--”

A sinking feeling in his stomach told him that of course Roman liked other people in his room. He just didn’t like Virgil.

“Forget it,” Virgil mumbled. “Just--yeah.”

He could feel that Roman was watching him. He curled into his hoodie and wondered if he tried hard enough, he could get swallowed up by the shadows.

This was a disaster.

And it could have been better--he’d know what to say if this was Logan, or Patton, or even Janus--but this was Roman. Roman. Roman, who was--he was--

Ugh.

“We need to talk,” Virgil blurted out. Maybe if he said it enough, he’d believe it. They needed to talk. To get this over with. Even if it hurt. “I--I’m really nervous about this, ‘cause obviously, but--” Why’d he say that? To get pity points? Now Roman would be forced to feel bad for him. “--but it’s not a big deal--I mean, it is, but--”

“Virgil.”

Virgil jerked his head up. Roman had turned on another lamp. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, expression achingly soft.

“What?” Virgil asked, all his haunches raised, all his guards up.

“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this.” Roman swallowed. “I know it’s--it’s an emotional conversation, and if you would rather Patton or Logan be here--or if you’d like to wait?”

Virgil could wait.

But Virgil needed to--

“We need to talk now,” Virgil said. “I--I won’t have the guts to do it otherwise, I’m sorry--”

“Alright,” Roman said. Virgil thought he saw Roman sink a bit, though. “That works. Take your time, okay? Keep breathing.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. He tried not to feel optimistic about the fact that Roman cared enough to keep him from panicking. Roman could care about him and still be mad--or Roman could just want Virgil to be calm enough for the conversation to happen all at once. Which didn’t really make sense, but Virgil wasn’t about to hope, wasn’t about to try and erase the past days of Roman being upset with him.

With Roman being upset.

If this made Roman feel better, it was worth it.

“So,” Virgil said. And told himself this time--finally--he’d get it right. “We want to talk about Nico?”

“Nico,” Roman agreed, something soft and sad crossing his face.

“He’s--” Virgil fought for words. “He’s--he’s so good, yeah? He’s great. Thomas really likes him, and so do I--I really like him, Roman.”

“I know,” Roman said. Softly. Too softly, and Virgil was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “He’s wonderful.”

“Yeah!” Virgil said. Loudly. Too loudly. His voice echoed through Roman’s room--and he noticed that, unlike all the other times he’d been here, there wasn’t any music playing.

Okay, yeah, it was late. But--it made Virgil’s heart clench a bit, it made his hands jam further into his pockets, and it made him kick at the floor with more vehemence. It was another thing that was wrong--piled onto everything else, onto the shadows and the crumpled papers and everything from the door to the windows. Everything was wrong. Was it wrong because Virgil was there, messing it up? Or had something been wrong from the start?

Patches of light, gold and white and red, skidded over Virgil’s jacket. From the window, from the lamps, from the fairy lights high above. They bled through the purple patches and turned them an ugly shade of brown.

“Nico’s great,” said Virgil, slowly, quietly. Like he didn’t want to disrupt something. “And--and Thomas messed up a bit, the other day.”

I messed up, he didn’t finish with. Roman would know.

“He did,” Roman said, voice tight.

“And that’s--I think that’s maybe a sign that--” Virgil waved a hand, felt self-conscious about said hand existing, and shoved it back into his hoodie. “Look, I like Nico. So much. And I really think we can do this if we try--I mean, I hope so, I really hope so--”

“We can,” Roman interrupted. “We have to make this work.”

“Right. Yeah.” Virgil took a breath. “So--”

“So we’ll work harder.” Roman waved a hand at Virgil. “We’re--we can do this, we’re ready, if Thomas is ready than we’re ready! All of us!”

“I’m not saying we’re not ready,” Virgil said. “I’m saying we need to be careful.”

The brief passion in Roman’s eyes faded again. “I know.”

“So--so--” Virgil tried to force himself to stick words together. He should apologize. He should say sorry and let Roman figure out what to do next, but it was shadowy and cold and smelling of red paint and parchment and Virgil was lost.

“I know,” Roman said again. He sounded tired. It was late--and he’d been awake--and he sounded exhausted--and he hadn’t been planning to sleep, he’d said he had trouble sleeping--and Virgil felt like he was grasping at puzzle pieces, trying to pull the shadows and lights into something coherent. He felt vaguely dizzy. His stomach churned. Maybe it was Roman’s room making him see all these dots to connect, filling him with the worst kind of imagination.

“It’ll be okay,” Virgil said. To Roman? To himself? To someone, anyway.

Roman curled into himself, just a bit. “I don’t know.”

Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, actually. I--me neither.”

A long silence. Imaginary airplanes skidded over the skyline, and Virgil wished he could go on one of them, fly far away from here. And take Roman, if he was willing--take Roman and steal him away from all this and keep him happy and safe--they could both be safe. And they could see the world.

“So,” Virgil said, slowly, for the seventh or eighth time, like that’d drag the conversation to its conclusion. “I know you’ve been avoiding us--”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” Roman interrupted. Too fast. Too vehement. Roman was definitely lying, and Virgil hated how bad that made him feel.

“I know you have,” Virgil said, hating even more the defensive edge his voice gained. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, and--and if you’re cool with that, I’m cool with that, but--”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Roman lied again. Barely trying this time, like he didn’t care if Virgil saw through it. “I’ve just been a bit wrapped up in projects, Stormy Knight, I promise it wasn’t--”

“Princey, c’mon.” Something about the familiar nickname gave Virgil courage. “I don’t mind. I get it! It’s...it’s justified, it was all a mess a few days ago, it’s--if I’m being honest, it’s been a mess this whole time, and--and you can take as much time as you need to figure stuff out on your end. Or--or maybe there’s nothing to figure out, maybe it’s not like that, but--” Virgil was rambling again. He knotted his hands together and focused on the texture of his jacket. “Maybe you--maybe you’ve already made up your mind, maybe this can’t really be fixed, but--”

Everything was a mess. Everything was coming out all wrong and Virgil needed to say something that made sense. His head was spinning with lights and shadows and the smell of roses. He was sure he was tilting forward in the chair. It was late at night. He was running on adrenaline and guilt. He was trying and he didn’t know if Roman got it--if Roman understood that Virgil was sorry, that Virgil would try to be better, and that Roman could be angry as long as he liked, but Virgil was here for him and didn’t want him to be upset--

There! There was what to say! So why couldn’t Virgil say it out loud?

“I’m--this is coming out wrong,” Virgil blurted out. “I’m really not making any sense, am I?”

“I think I’ve put the bigger pieces together,” Roman said.

“Which pieces?”

Roman gave Virgil a sharp look and Virgil wilted. The look softened.

“I can tell you what I’ve got so far,” Roman suggested. “How about that? And then, if I’ve got it wrong, you can correct me. I can ask questions if I’m confused. Does that work?”

Virgil almost collapsed with relief. Yeah. He could do that.

“Sure,” he said. “Shoot, Princey.”

“You’re talking about what happened a few days ago,” Roman said. “When Thomas made a bit of a mistake with Nico. And--and in general, all the bumps we’ve had in the road here, you know? It hasn’t exactly been the smoothest of rides.”

“It hasn’t,” Virgil admitted. “And yeah, that’s--what I was talking about.”

“Good!” Roman looked almost pleased with himself, and Virgil suppressed a smile. “So--we have to work from here, right? We have to figure out--you know, who’s helping and who’s not, and how we can work together. And make sure we’re all clear about--” Something passed over his face. “Who’s not necessarily meant to play a huge role, if we want this to work.”

Virgil balled his fists. “Yeah.”

“We both care about Thomas,” Roman said, a sad smile crossing his face. “I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you. I’ve merely been thinking things through a bit. Nico’s so wonderful, and Thomas deserves him, and it’ll take work for this to become something real.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said numbly.

“So we need to start figuring stuff out on our own ends, and finding out who’s helpful with that and who’s detrimental.” The lights played off Roman’s face as he leaned onto his knees and stared at the floor. “What mistakes can be worked with, and what mistakes are a symptom of something else--and Virgil, I’m so sorry.”

“You--” Virgil felt a strange cold streak pass through his chest, like a comet, an airplane sliding through the sky. “You’re sorry? You don’t--Princey, you don’t have to be--”

“Of course I do!” Roman burst out. “I--you tried so hard to make this happen, you put yourself out there and risked everything for him! I--I gave up, and you kept fighting, and for what? For me to--to ruin everything we’ve built? I’m sorry, I’m trying, and--and I’m really not meant for this, Virgil, I don’t think I am--”

“Meant for--” The cold feeling had spread to Virgil’s whole body now, numbing his fingers. “You’re--Roman, what--”

“I’m sorry,” Roman said again. Like that was an explanation. And his voice cracked in the middle, and it made Virgil want to cry, and he didn’t know what was happening--

“Roman,” Virgil forced out. His voice was raspy. “Roman, what are you talking about? Why are you sorry?”

“I--what?” Roman blinked at him. “Pardon? Why--why wouldn’t I be sorry?”

“Because you didn’t do anything?” Virgil’s voice pitched upwards incredulously. “What are you even saying--I came in here ‘cause you’re mad at me, I’m trying to--”

“Mad at you?” Roman repeated, and apparently it was Roman’s turn to look completely flabbergasted. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“‘Cause I messed up!” Virgil burst out. “I messed up, I almost ruined everything, I’m just so scared I’m gonna take this away from you--and you need it, you deserve it, and I’m trying to get it for you--but I’m not good at this, I’m not good--I’m really sorry, Princey--I promise I’m gonna try--”

“Virgil,” Roman said quietly, and for some reason that made Virgil stop talking immediately. “You--what?”

“I came in here to say sorry,” Virgil said, probably sounding pathetic, but he was confused and tired and three seconds from crying. “I--I’m sorry. There. I don’t know why--why it took me so long to say it.”

“You’re sorry--” Roman looked completely bewildered, but there was concern in there--aching concern that made the lump in Virgil’s throat grow bigger. “You’re sorry--Virgil, I promise you’ve done nothing wrong! I’m not mad at you!”

“You--” Virgil repeated the words in his head. No way he’d just heard that. “You--aren’t?”

“No!” And now Roman looked seriously upset. “You thought I was--Virgil, you’ve done wonderfully during all this, you’re an absolute star, I still can’t believe you made this happen--except I can, quite honestly, I always knew you had it in you--”

Virgil stared at him, mouth open.

“I’m not mad at you,” Roman finished, his voice almost pleading. “I promise. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“Oh,” Virgil forced out. It didn’t cover anything. It didn’t cover the way he wanted to cry, or laugh, or hug Roman tight and bury his face in Roman’s shoulder and--

“Oh,” Virgil said again.

“You’re doing so good,” Roman whispered. “I’m proud of you.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. A third time. Because he was going to cry.

Roman gave him a soft smile. “You’re my hero.”

And okay--okay, Roman couldn’t just--he couldn’t just--

Before Virgil could stop himself, he raced over to Roman and tackled him in a hug.

Roman made a surprised noise that turned into a coo as he reached up and steadied Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil tightened his grip around Roman and considered burying his head in Roman’s shoulder, like he’d dreamed of--Roman was so solid, and smelled really nice, and maybe Virgil could just fall asleep here, spend the night in Roman’s room and not worry about anything else--

“You alright over there, emo nightmare?” Roman asked, his voice rumbling in Virgil’s chest. “Anything you need?”

And, oh yeah, this was Roman. Virgil had just tackle-hugged Roman.

Virgil quickly pushed himself out of Roman’s arms, falling into a heap on the bed next to him.

“Whoa, hey, where’s the fire?” Roman laughed, but his eyes were still wide with concern. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Yes. No. More than ever. It’s never been and Virgil wouldn’t know how to handle it if it was.

“You--” Virgil had something he wanted to say. Besides the sorry. Because--because Roman--

“Me,” Roman agreed, giving Virgil a dorky little smile.

And, okay, not fair, now Virgil was distracted by cute. Virgil swatted at him and hissed, and Roman laughed a bit. It was great. It was normal. It was--

It was too normal.

It was the kind of normal Virgil didn’t trust. ‘Cause a minute ago, they’d been staring at each other and Roman had been--

Apologizing.

Hold on.

“Roman,” Virgil said slowly. “What was all that about?”

“What?” Roman blinked at him. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, lightning bug.”

Virgil fought a flush at the nickname. He swore Roman was doing that on purpose--trying to distract him, turn this on Virgil, but Virgil wasn’t going to lose track of things again. Virgil was going to actually, like, talk about things.

Virgil was such a mess.

Especially late at night, especially while upset, and this was just a cocktail of terrible ideas. And who knew what was going on with Roman? Who knew if Roman was really not okay or if he was fine and Virgil was reading too much into things or--

Only one to find out, though, right?

Bravery.

Virgil looked at Roman. “I’m worried about you.”

There. There it really was. And honestly--under all the guilt, the panic, the self-doubt--this was what Virgil had wanted to say, all along.

Roman, for his part, looked like Virgil had struck him in the face. It took him a few tries to speak. “And may I ask why?”

“You were, like, apologizing earlier,” Virgil said. “You were saying--like, like you thought I was here to yell at you, to say you did something wrong--and I don’t even get that, like what the heck have you done--”

“What haven’t I done?” Roman fired back, and Virgil would mistake it for teasing if it weren’t for the tightness in his mouth and the way he inched away from Virgil on the bed.

“You’ve--you’re Thomas’ romantic side,” Virgil said. “You’re the reason he likes Nico, you’re the one who’s making this work, it’s all you--”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Roman snapped.

Virgil hated the way he flinched.

“I--” Roman looked instantly regretful. “I didn’t mean to yell, I just--”

“It’s fine,” Virgil said. And he took a deep breath. And it was. “I’m saying you’re important. You’re valuable.”

“I know,” Roman said.

“You’re the reason this is happening!”

“I know.”

“Without you, it doesn’t work--”

“I know.”

“We can’t do this without you!”

“Well, maybe you should!”

Virgil flinched again. But not because Roman was too loud--and it was so much better with Roman, it wasn’t perfect and maybe not even that great but it was better, Virgil could take a breath and move forward--but because of Roman’s face. Twisted. Tight. Eyes sparkling in the lights, fists balled on his pajamas, and the way he tried to smile when Virgil looked. He tried to--to smile.

Virgil hated that. So much.

“Roman,” Virgil said, as softly as he could. “We...we need you, we--”

“Yeah, and I’ve been doing a swell job of helping you guys,” Roman said, and that was bitterness, that was a shade of bitter that Virgil had never heard in his life. He hated that, too. “I appreciate the sentiment, Virgil, but I also have to recognize that I’ve hardly been the best at helping Thomas recently--”

“I need you, then.” Virgil didn’t know where the words were coming from. “You know what? Screw Thomas. I’m not talking about him. I need you. I can’t--I’m doing all this for you, Roman. You get that, right? I--you want this, you want this so badly, and so I’m trying to make this happen.” Virgil let out a little laugh that could have been a sob. “And I’m failing. And I’m getting stuck. ‘Cause it’s me. But Roman--Roman, if you need me to, I will keep trying. I will do as much as you need me to.” Virgil choked on something that was definitely a sob. “Because you deserve something good right now. You deserve to be happy.”

Roman was staring at Virgil. Roman was staring and something in him was trembling. Shaking. Coming apart in the shadows and slipping away in the lights.

“And I’m sorry,” Virgil finished. “I’m sorry I’m not doing great at it--and I’m sorry I never told you all this, ‘cause you didn’t know--ugh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you didn’t know, I didn’t see that you--”

“Virgil,” Roman said, voice choked. “Virgil, you--you don’t have to do any of this. You know that, right? You don’t have to make this work for me--to try and be nice--to be here, right now--”

“But I want to.” Virgil shook his head. “Ro, I want to, so much--this is what I want. I want to help. And you...you need help right now.”

Roman flinched a bit, just enough for Virgil to notice. “I don’t--can’t we wait until morning? I’m always incoherent at night, this is all a bit of a melodramatic moment--”

“Nope,” Virgil said firmly. “We’re not gonna dance around this one, okay? I’ve done enough of that. You’re not--you’re so not okay, and I get the feeling I’m only seeing, like, one quarter of it. And you don’t have to hide that.”

Roman was quiet. His eyes followed the seams of the quilt.

“Hey. Look at me.” Virgil hesitantly placed a hand on Roman’s. “It’s okay. I promise. Talk to me--cry, scream, whatever. But do something. We can’t have any kind of true lo--any kind of...anything. If the relationship isn’t built on truth.”

Roman looked up, slowly, and Virgil saw that his eyes were watering.

Virgil couldn’t help the little noise he made. ‘Cause Roman wasn’t meant to look like that. Like he expected Virgil to turn on him and yell. Like he was trying to disappear into the shadows before anyone could know he was there.

“I don’t--” Roman wiped at his eyes. “Virgil, I don’t know--I can’t--I’m not--”

“What aren’t you?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not what I’m supposed to be!” Roman burst out, and then he was rambling, hands flying. “I’m not productive, I’m not able to focus on anything, I never get stuff done on time--Zeus knows I’m not organized, I’m not serious enough--I’m not creative--and I’m not--I’m not good, I’m not the hero, I’m not the perfect prince and you all need me to be that but I’m not--I’m not anything!”

“Oh,” Virgil breathed, and he shook his head, over and over. “Roman, no, I promise that’s so, so wrong--”

“Then what am I?” Roman challenged, eyes sparkling and voice so brittle. He was seconds from breaking. Virgil was watching his best friend--his everything--break apart, and Virgil should have been frantic. Virgil should have been trying to put the pieces back together before everything comes crashing down.

Virgil took a deep breath.

“Roman,” he said slowly, “do you want a hug?”

“I--” Roman looked like nobody had ever asked that question in his life. “I--if you’re okay with--”

Virgil opened his arms and gave Roman a little nod.

Roman’s hug was stiff. Roman’s hug was cold. Roman’s hug would have lasted about three seconds if Virgil hadn’t wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders to keep him there.

“I’m okay with it,” Virgil told him, quietly. “And jeez, Princey, you’re acting like I’m holding a gun to your head. Relax.”

Roman did not relax.

“It’s okay,” Virgil said. Even softer. “It’s okay, I promise it’s okay, it’s so messed up right now but we’re gonna figure this out, I promise--”

Roman trembled, just a bit, in Virgil’s grasp. Virgil shifted slightly until he was leaned against the headboard, and Roman was crumpled in his arms.

“Stop trying to hug me,” Virgil said gently. “It’s messing everything up. I’m hugging you right now--you can hug me later, you dork.”

Roman didn’t move. Virgil carefully slipped him off Virgil’s shoulder and pulled him to his chest instead. Roman--Roman was so small, and it made Virgil wonder how Roman could be so firm and solid and still so small in his arms.

Roman’s head was tucked under Virgil’s now. Virgil had the urge to press a kiss on top of it. He settled for running a hand through Roman’s hair, enjoying the fluffy texture and detangling some of the knots. Bedhead. When was the last time Roman slept?

“I don’t know,” Roman said, when Virgil asked him. “I--I don’t know much, Virge.”

“What do you know?” Virgil asked.

“I--” Roman hesitated. “You guys. Logan likes cinnamon buns, and Patton’s favorite dog breed is a retriever, and you--you bite your nails, but you paint them on weekends sometimes, and you pretend they’re all black but there’s a bit of purple on there, it’s adorable--and you hate strawberries--and once you gave me a gift and pretended it was from Logan but I know it was you because you write your R’s all pointy--and your hair always flops over your eyes, and--”

Virgil fought back a wave of emotion. “Um--that’s great, Ro. I appreciate that. Can you--can you tell me what you know about yourself?”

Roman was silent for way too long. “Why ruin the moment?”

“Disagree,” Virgil said. “Anything? It’s okay if not, but--basic stuff. What do you like? What do you think about?”

“I dunno,” Roman mumbled. “I like Disney. But Disney’s pretty stupid.”

“Hey,” Virgil complained. “Disney’s the best. Don’t crap on your favorite company.”

“Disney’s really capitalist.”

“That’s fair,” Virgil admitted. “But--you’re allowed to like stuff, Ro.”

Roman curled up a bit in his arms.

“What do you know?” Virgil decided to say. “About you. It can be anything.”

Roman was pressed tight against Virgil’s chest. Virgil ran a hand down his side and felt Roman shudder a bit. His hands were moving, running up and down the patches on Virgil’s jacket, fingering the bumps of the seams.

“I’m Roman,” Roman finally said. He laughed a bit. Virgil didn’t.

“Good, that’s true.” Virgil nodded. “What else?”

“I’m a Side of Thomas,” Roman continued. His voice was quiet. “I’m his...his Creativity. And Passion, and all that.”

“Yep.”

“I...I work with you guys. I work on stuff. I write. It’s not good, but I write.”

“Yep!”

“I sing, I act, I--” Roman huffed. “Pretty terrible at it.”

“Gonna beg to differ on that one, Princey.” Virgil smirked. “Your singing voice is really loud, but I like it.”

Roman curled, somehow, even tighter. “I--I don’t have anything else.”

“That’s okay,” Virgil said. “Do you want me to take a turn?”

“Okay.”

“Great.” Virgil leaned back against the headboard and watched the lights flicker. “You’re Roman, like you said. You’re--you’re my best friend, dude.”

Roman shuddered, just a bit.

“You’re my best friend,” Virgil repeated. “You--at first, I never liked you, ‘cause you were just...so extra, you know? So big and grand and huge. And that--that scared me. I was so scared of you back then. And I was so envious--I wanted to be like you. To not care what anyone thought. You just...put it all out there, and you were everyone’s hero, and I’d stare at you and wonder how you managed to do it.”

Virgil laughed. “And then everything changed. And then you were my friend--or at least, I hoped so. We--got along, we got to know each other, and all the stuff I didn’t get about you? All the stuff I hated, I was afraid of? It all turned out to be the best stuff. ‘Cause it’s what made you, you. It wouldn’t really work with anyone else--but since it’s all part of you, I never minded. I don’t mind.” Virgil swallowed. “You want me to tell you some stuff about that? Some stuff I’ve noticed?”

“Sure,” Roman whispered.

“Great.” Virgil looked down at Roman. “You stick out your tongue when you’re thinking, did you know that? You stick it out and you’re staring at whatever you’re working on and it’s just stupidly adorable--and! And you do this little happy dance when you’re excited, you kinda bounce from foot to foot and do a little squeal and I wish I could get excited like you do--when you’re happy, you just make everyone around you happier, you’re--” Virgil struggled for words. “You’re radiant. You’re, like--I see you, and I know--I know it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna work out.”

Roman was shaking now. Virgil tugged him even closer and--because why not--pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“And yeah, we’ve had our rough spots. Everyone has.” Virgil sighed. “And you’re--you’re gonna mess up. Maybe you’re not everything you think you’re supposed to be. Maybe you’re not gonna end up--the prince, the dreamer, or whatever. Maybe not--maybe not even the hero. And that’s okay. ‘Cause you’re still gonna be you.”

Roman’s breath hitched.

“You’re gonna be you,” Virgil continued, “and I’m gonna help you, and I’m gonna fight for you, and--and I’m gonna be brave for you, I promise--and you could be anything and that’d be true. You could be a Dark Side tomorrow. You could completely change functions. You could--you could be anything, but you’d still be Roman, and I--I’ll be here. No matter what.”

The lights skidded over the ceiling. Roman had stopped rubbing his hands on Virgil’s jacket. He was just still, still and silent and trembling like a plucked string.

“You’re Roman,” Virgil said. “And I don’t even have words for how--how freaking fantastic you are, every day--you’re--you’re my friend. You’re--so much more than that.” Virgil closed his eyes. “I love you, Ro. So much. And you might not really have everything figured out, and I definitely don’t, but--if it means anything, I know who you are, because you’re always going to be the person I love.”

And Virgil was crying. Virgil sniffed and wiped his eyes, but the choked noises didn’t stop--and he realized Roman was crying too, sobbing quietly into Virgil’s jacket. It was small cries. Quiet--too quiet, the cry of someone who’d been used to keeping it hidden.

“Oh,” Virgil said, gathering Roman in his arms and pressing his forehead to Roman’s. Tears dripped down Roman’s cheeks, and he clung to Virgil’s jacket for dear life, breath hitching. “Roman, Princey, love, it’s going to be okay, I promise--”

Roman pressed himself closer, crying, and Virgil let him stay.

“It’s going to be okay,” Virgil whispered into his hair, “you’ll figure it out. I’m here. I’ve got it covered. I promise it’s okay--you can let it out, keep crying, it’s okay--we’ll figure it out--I’m not gonna stop loving you, I’m not gonna stop looking out for you--”

Roman’s sobs grew louder and Virgil kept talking. “It’s okay,” he said, over and over again. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Maybe if he said it enough, Roman would believe it.

Maybe if he said it enough, Virgil would, too.

“It’s okay,” Virgil said, and meant it.

“You’re doing amazing,” Virgil said, and meant it.

“I love you,” Virgil said, and couldn’t imagine not meaning it, not being so entirely in love with Roman that it ached with it and dripped with it and filled every word. He heard it. He heard it and he heard it and he finally couldn’t hide from it--because maybe Roman could hear too, and maybe Roman would listen.

“I love you,” Virgil said, and for once he wasn’t afraid of it. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” was the first thing Roman said when his tears slowed. “I love you, Virgil, I love you--”

“I know,” Virgil said. And meant it. “I know, Ro, it’s okay--”

“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m sorry--”

“Fine, then, I’m sorry too.” Virgil pressed his forehead to Roman’s and wiped away his tears with a hand. And he left it there, resting on Roman’s cheek, because he didn’t want to let go. “I’m sorry. And look at that--that’s okay. We can get better from here. I swear.”

Roman laughed wetly. “The Nico thing is a disaster.”

“The Nico thing is something we’ll figure out,” Virgil said. “We’ve got this. It’ll work.”

“We’re not--” Roman sighed. “We’re not ready for it, are we?”

“I’m not, and you’re not.” Virgil laughed a bit. “But, um, maybe two not-readies makes a ready?”

“Doubt it,” Roman whispered, and Virgil suddenly realized how close they were, foreheads pressed together. He could--he could move forward, just a bit, and--

“We’ll try,” Roman said, lips parting. “We’ll try, can’t we? Can’t we try? Do we--do we get that?”

“Yes,” Virgil said. “Yes, we get that, you get that--we’ll try, we’ll try and we’ll make it work somehow, I promise--”

“And if it doesn’t?” Roman’s voice was so quiet, so thin, the trail of an airplane across the stars. “What if we make things worse?”

Virgil couldn’t say he hadn’t thought of that. Obviously. Worrying was his job, and he saw the possible ramifications to everything, of course he’d thought through every possible outcome of this. And--and still.

Whatever made Roman happy, Virgil would do.

Because that always made Virgil happy, too.

“We’ll figure it out,” Virgil said. “You--you know what taking a chance is? You know what it is, to do something you want, even though it could hurt?”

“What?” Roman murmured, just a breath from Virgil’s lips.

Virgil smiled. “Bravery.”

Roman’s eyes flickered open.

They were so, so close. Lights spun around them, shadows crept away, and Virgil could--Virgil could--

“Hey,” Virgil said, barely above a whisper. “Can I--”

Roman’s eyes flickered down to Virgil’s lips and back up.

And Virgil didn’t know who moved. Maybe it was him. Maybe Roman. Maybe it didn’t matter, because they moved, and then Virgil was kissing Roman for the first time.

Okay.

Cool.

Wow.

Virgil didn’t know what he was doing--it didn’t matter, though, since he was kissing Roman--and all he could think of was how much he’d wanted this, how much he’d told himself he didn’t want this, how much he’d never wanted to cradle Roman’s face in his hands and tangle his hand in Roman’s hair and--

Virgil tangled a hand in Roman’s hair. It was exactly as good as he’d hoped.

And Roman pushed him back, against the headboard, and Roman was kissing him, and Virgil was breathless and weightless and absolutely okay with it.

Virgil could have been floating. Virgil could have been drifting in the cold night hair, among the stars, because the world was dark and filled with pinpricks of light and all he knew was warm skin under his fingers and a hand around his waist and the way Roman held him like this was all Roman had ever wanted, too--

And of course, they had to break apart, because Virgil couldn’t stay breathless--although gosh did he want to, to just lose time in Roman’s arms--

They separated.

Virgil was sure he could count every fleck of light in Roman’s eyes. A blush had settled across his cheeks, his hair was even messier than usual, and he was staring at Virgil like Virgil had hung the moon.

“Huh,” Roman said.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed.

Roman snickered. Virgil snorted. And then they were laughing, inches apart, giggling on the bed at maybe two or three in the morning, still entangled in each other and neither moving to separate their hands.

“So,” Roman finally said, his laughing settling into a smile. “That was...okay.”

“I was okay with it,” Virgil blurted out. “Um. More than okay. And--I don’t know what it means, what you want it to mean, but--”

“It meant I like you,” Roman said. As if it was obvious. Maybe it was. “A lot. And--”

“And we want to try this,” Virgil said. “For real?”

“We can’t exactly try it for fake, can we?” Roman teased.

“We’re trying,” Virgil said. “We’re trying?”

“Yes,” Roman said. “I--I mean, we might fail, I might--”

“And then we’ll figure it out.” Virgil reached for a bit of courage, deep inside him, and found it came more naturally when Roman was pressed into him. “We’ll try it out, okay?”

Roman laughed a bit. “We’re not ready.”

“Nah, but life does that sometimes, right?” Virgil sighed. “We’re--we’ll be ready, soon enough. One day. And right now, we’ll just kind of...wing it?”

“Wing it,” Roman repeated. “A daring battle plan, emo.”

“Hey, you’re the hero here.” Virgil, despite himself, felt his lips curl in a smile. “We’ll figure it out, Princey. And--and maybe we won’t really know who we are, what we want--any of that--for a while. Maybe never again, who knows. But if I don’t take this chance, I’ll regret it.”

“So will I,” Roman said. “And--quite honestly, I’m a bit tired of regrets.”

“So let’s give it our all,” Virgil said. “We’ll never know until we try.”

“We’ll try,” Roman agreed, and placed a kiss on Virgil’s lips that tasted of salt and cinnamon. Virgil melted into it, and when they pulled away, let Roman curl up next to him. It was late. Virgil could happily fall asleep right here--and really, that wasn’t such a bad idea.

“When’s the last time you slept?” he mumbled, watching the lights dance over Roman’s face.

“Dunno,” Roman slurred, watching Virgil with soft eyes.

“Well, it’s gonna be now.” Virgil threw an arm over Roman. “Get some sleep, Princey.”

“You first.”

“What, you think I’m leaving?” Virgil snuggled closer, and Roman wrapped an arm around his waist. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

“Hmm.” Roman hummed to himself. “Okay with that.”

“Good, so am I.” Virgil kissed Roman’s forehead. “Come on. No talk, only sleep.”

“I love you,” Roman said, immediately breaking the rule. But Virgil couldn’t get mad. “And--I--thank you, I--”

“You’re welcome,” Virgil said. “I’d do it anytime.”

Roman smiled and closed his eyes. “You’re my hero, emo.”

And Virgil would never admit the way his heart softened.

“Thanks,” Virgil whispered. “You’re my hero, too.”

Roman was already drifting off. The floor was crowded, the door swung open, the desk was messy--and eh, whatever. They’d figure it out tomorrow. Right now, they both needed sleep, and the windows were wide to the starry sky.

“And I don’t even care,” Virgil said, “if you’re not my hero. You don’t have to be.”

He looked over at Roman, and he smiled.

“As long as you’re mine, we’re good.”

“We’re good,” Roman echoed, eyes still closed.

“We’ll be good,” Virgil agreed.

And he tried to believe it--he told himself he would believe it, he could, he deserved to--and he found, in the end, it wasn’t as hard as he thought it’d be.

They’d be good.

They’d be okay.

And they’d find their way forward.

Virgil fell asleep next to Roman, surrounded by drifting lights and warm shadows, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

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#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #i banged ninety-five percent of this out this evening #djkhgfds i'm so tired but i wanted to get at least one WIP out of the way #anyway take care of urself yall don't write 8k in one sitting #averywrites

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ao719 · 3 years

Text

Strike A Pose

It's @zaffrenotes birthday! 🥳🤩

Happy birthday, Donna! You have been such a bright spot for so long for both Gen and I. What started out as a love for Liam and a thirst for Henney a couple of years ago has turned into a friendship that we both are grateful for. Between rice, all things potatoes, TVD, loathing and loving characters, Dino, and things we can’t unsee no matter how much we wish we could, we’ve had a lot of laughs. We hope your day is as amazing as you are! Love you! 🍚❤️

A/N: This is a collab written with my favorite asshole, @cocomaxley. Absolutely nothing in this fic should be taken seriously. It’s probably the most ridiculous thing we’ve ever written together, but we had some laughs while working on it. Thank you @burnsoslow, @emichelle, and @the-soot-sprite for reading this over for us!

Summary: Charlotte finds a buried secret from Drake’s college days.

This part of my Full Disclosure AU.

Charlotte, along with Liam and Maxwell, were at Drake’s cabin, looking around his cluttered garage. Drake had been using it for storage, and he now wanted to brew his own beer since Liam had given him a brewing kit for his birthday. He decided that the garage was the best place to set up the station for his new hobby. The only issue was that the garage was jam-packed with years’ worth of junk.

Drake pointed to the different machines that were scattered around the space and addressed Maxwell. “Beaumont, move that equipment outside. We can put them in different spots after the garage is cleared out.”

Drake then turned to Liam, gesturing to the open loft. “Li, can you get the crap from the storage space up there and bring it down?” Liam nodded and began making his way up the narrow steps.

Charlotte bounced on the balls of her feet, awaiting her instructions. “What about me, Drake? What do I get to do? Do I get to demolish walls?”

Drake shook his head. “We aren’t demolishing anything, Brooks. I repeat, nothing is to be demolished or broken.” He eyed a large steamer trunk in the corner of the garage and pointed to it. “You can look through that and sort through what looks like it’s worth keeping or tossing.”

Charlotte’s face fell in disappointment. “That’s it? I get to sort through trash?”

“It’s not trash. There are probably important documents in there that I need. Besides, the only risk of you hurting yourself by doing that is getting a papercut.” Drake chuckled as he watched Charlotte stomp towards the corner.

“Ha ha ha. So funny, Walker.” Charlotte opened the lid, groaning when she saw the mess of papers inside. She grabbed as many as she could in her hand and pulled them out. “Ouch!” She looked at her finger that was starting to ooze with blood from the first cut.

Drake burst out laughing. “Did you seriously just get a papercut, Brooks?”

Charlotte hid her hand behind her back. “No, I did not! I just said ‘ouch’ to make you think I got a papercut.”

****

Over the next few hours, the friends worked in silence. Every once in a while, the men would hear Charlotte groan or say ‘owww’ or ‘son of a bitch’ or ‘that stings like the devil’ as she accumulated more papercuts. A long while later, the silence was broken by Charlotte’s shriek of laughter. She was holding a stack of Polaroid photos in her hand, laughing like a hyena. Curious, the men gathered behind her to see what was so funny.

When Drake caught a glimpse of the first photo, his cheeks immediately flushing crimson with embarrassment, and he grabbed them from her hand.

I thought I got rid of these. “These are … uh … they’re nothing.”

Charlotte snorted. “I can’t unsee it! You tried to be a model? You don’t even like to smile!”

Liam plucked the Polaroids from Drake’s hand while he was busy scowling at Charlotte, and he dodged away when Drake tried to take them back. Even the King couldn’t keep his laughter at bay upon seeing the top photo as his eyes widened. “What the fuck is this?” Liam shrieked.

Charlotte burst into laughter over Liam’s inability to keep his amusement contained. “Even Liam thinks it’s funny!” Charlotte shook her head. “That poor bag. What did it ever do to you?”

“Um … just why?” Maxwell asked.

Drake ripped the photos from Liam’s grasp and sighed. “Back when I was in college in New York … I needed some extra money. So … I took up a modeling gig.”

“You … you modeled?” Charlotte giggled. “Like … really modeled? With a real photographer for a legitimate modeling agency?”

Drake looked up at her, recalling the memory. He wished it wasn’t real.

****

Drake got into the waiting taxi, feeling optimistic about this opportunity. He had seen the advertisement for male models pinned to the bulletin board inside the entrance of his dorm just a couple of days prior. It wasn’t something he had ever given thought to before, but the advertisement said experience wasn’t necessary, and he was in need of some extra cash as he worked towards getting an apartment of his own. They weren’t cheap in New York City. When he called the number, the agent that answered seemed eager to meet with him.

Drake watched as the buildings of New York got taller the deeper they drove into the city. He looked at his watch, expecting to arrive at his destination at any moment, but the cabbie continued to drive over the Verrazano Bridge to Staten Island.

Drake chuckled nervously. “Did you miss it? Are we turning around?”

The cab driver grunted. “Nah, man. We’re almost there.”

The taxi drove into a seedy neighborhood and stopped in front of a brown brick house, and Drake laughed. “This is a joke, right? You’re supposed to take me to Ford Modeling Agency. This is someone’s house!”

The cabbie rolled his eyes. “This is the address you gave me. That’ll be $69.60.”

Drake’s eyes widened. “Seventy dollars? Are you insane?” He was doing this to try to make extra money, and after today he would be $140 in the hole. Good thing he still got a monthly allowance from the King.

After reluctantly paying the taxi driver, Drake got out of the vehicle and stared up at the house. I might die here today. He shook the thought; honestly, how bad could it be? As he walked up the pathway towards the door, he noticed a cardboard sign staked into the yard that read ‘Forde Molding Agencee’ written in bubble letters in black marker.

Drake mumbled profanities under his breath, and for a moment, he considered just walking away, but then the front door opened. A man with shaggy, greasy brown hair, an odd-shaped nose, and a full beard smiled from the doorway of the house.

The stranger extended his hand. “You must be Drake. I’m Neal. Neal Spooner.”

Drake extended his hand, trying his best to smile like it didn’t hurt his face. “Yes, I’m Drake Walker.”

Neal opened the door wider for Drake to enter. “Welcome to Forde Modeling Agency.”

Drake went to take a step but stopped and looked at him curiously. “Did you say For-day?”

“Yes! F-O-R-D-E. It’s pronounced Forday. It’s French.”

Drake’s brow quirked; the man spoke with a heavy southern twang, lived in Staten Island, and was now telling him his name was French. Yep, I’m definitely going to die here. He kept his mistake of thinking he was heading to a meeting with Ford, a legitimate modeling agency, to himself. He didn’t want to be disrespectful, and he also wanted to save himself the embarrassment. And he still needed the money.

Drake took in his surroundings inside the house. There was brown carpet that he was sure was a different color back in the 80s, along with wood-paneled walls. He then looked at his agent. He was wearing brown house slippers, a pair of New York Rangers pajama pants, and a dingy white t-shirt with a small hole in the chest and a larger hole in the armpit. This is one hairy dude.

“Let's go to my studio, shall we?” Neal broke the silence.

Drake felt a glimmer of hope at the word ‘studio.’ That hope immediately turned into dread when Neal led him through the kitchen and to a set of horror movie stairs in the mudroom; they walked down to the musty-smelling basement. The ‘studio’ had orange shag carpet and unfinished concrete walls. In the far corner, there was a makeshift “shooting” area with a white sheet attached to the wall with blue painter’s tape.

Neal walked to a closet and opened the door; he reached in and removed a couple of props and some outfits. He turned and threw a pair of tighty whities, a white ribbed tank top, and a black unitard at Drake. “Here, put one of these on.”

Drake looked at the articles of clothing in horror. “You want me to wear these? Have they been worn before?”

Neal chuckled at Drake’s facial expression. “Does it really matter? You’ll only be wearing them for a few minutes.”

“I don’t think so, man. I’m not going commando in another man’s fatigues.” Drake put the items onto a nearby table.

Neal rolled his eyes. “Fine, then strip!” Neal turned his back on Drake to prepare the camera.

After a lot of grumbling under his breath and more contemplation over leaving, Drake finally complied. He stood in the middle of the room, buck naked, covering his manly goods with his hands. Just then, he heard the basement door creak open and the sound of footsteps.

“Neal, dear, I made cookies for you and your friend.” An elderly lady rounded the corner with a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Neal grinned at his mother. “Thanks, Mamaw! They smell delicious. Just hand them to Drake.”

The woman smiled at Drake, offering him the plate. Drake internally panicked. If he removed both hands, he would surely give this lady a sneak peek. He opted to leave one hand in place and take the plate with the other.

“Erm … thank you, ma’am,” he said with a nod.

“You’re welcome, dear. Neal’s friends are always welcome.” Without another word, she made her way back upstairs.

Neal approached Drake and plucked a cookie off of the plate. “Have one. She makes the best cookies.”

****

Charlotte’s cackle interrupted Drake retelling his story. “You mean to tell me, this guy’s mother baked cookies, and you were standing there, ass out on full display while covering your slim jim?”

Liam was sitting on a crate shaking in silent laughter as tears streamed down his face. He was clutching his stomach, and his mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. Maxwell shushed Charlotte. “Shhhh, I wanna hear the rest of this story.”

****

Neal looked at Drake as he held the plate of cookies in his hand; his expression was filled with apprehension as he stared at the “photographer.” “Cookies not your thing?” Neal asked as he took a step towards him.

“Uhh …” Drake trailed off.

“I like beef jerky myself.” Drake’s eyebrows raised, and suddenly, Neal procured a bag of beef jerky from the pocket of his pajama pants.

****

“Wait, wait, wait,” Maxwell waved his hands. “This dude just pulled out a random bag from his pants and offered you some meat sticks?”

Drake just stared at him, ignoring Liam and Charlotte who’s laughs became louder, but his attention was pulled when he heard a snort from behind him; he turned to see Bastien in the garage doorway. “Sounds like this Neal fellow wanted a bit of your meat stick, son.”

At Bastien’s words, the normally stoic King completely lost it. Liam’s heel kicked the crate he was sitting on as he doubled forward with a wheezed rush of air; his eyes were squinted, and he struggled to breathe through his laughter.

Charlotte rolled to the floor from her seat, curling into the fetal position at Liam’s feet as she shrieked with laughter. “I … I think ... I think I just wet myself,” she squeaked. Liam’s foot slid as he began to slip off the crate, kicking Charlotte in the head with the tip of his sneaker. “Ow!”

That only caused the pair to laugh harder, and Liam crumpled to the floor, covering Charlotte’s body with his own as they failed miserably to compose themselves.

Drake glared at the hysterical couple. “You guys are such fucking assholes.”

“Well, did you eat the offered jerky or not?” Maxwell asked, causing Liam to screech as he buried his face into the crook of Charlotte’s neck while his entire body shook.

“Yes, Drake, did you eat his meat stick?” Charlotte asked in between laughs. Another loud snort escaped Bastien; Drake turned in time to see the head guard walk out of the garage. Charlotte began to cough, trying her hardest to stop laughing. “Sorry, Drake. Keep going. Please, tell me more.”

“No! Fuck you guys!” Drake stomped away towards a pile of trash that needed to be swept up.

Maxwell pouted. “I really want to know what happens next. Like, did your picture wind up in Women’s Hustler?” Another loud guffaw came from Liam; Charlotte could feel his body vibrating against hers as he failed to stop laughing. Seeing Liam this way was Charlotte’s favorite thing and only made her laugh more.

Drake huffed but continued on as he swept the floor. “So then …”

****

Drake shook his head at Neal. “No, man. I’m good. Thanks …”

Neal shrugged his shoulders. “Alrighty, then.” He pointed towards the shooting area. “Sit on that stool with your feet on the top rung and cross your ankles together, knees apart.”

Drake sat down with his hands still covering his manhood. “Uh … I didn’t realize these were going to be nude photos.”

Neal shook his head, “No, they aren’t nudes. Here …” He tossed Drake an extremely large leather crocodile print handbag. “Put that between your legs.”

“Excuse me? Put what where now?”

“Between your legs! Then put your arms behind your head and flex those muscles.” When Drake did as instructed, Neal approached him; he combed Drake’s hair forward and floofed it; Drake shuddered as the man’s hands touched his hair, and not in the good shudder way. Neal took a step back to examine his work before nodding. Then he held up the camera. “Now give Neal your best smoldering look.” He pronounced Neal as “Nay-al,” speaking with a French accent.

Drake arched his brow. “Did you just say ‘Nay-al’?”

“It is my alter ego when I am in photographer mode. NOW, SMOLDER!” Drake’s eyes slightly widened at Neal’s sudden change of tone before he heard the first click of the camera. Is that … a Polaroid camera? “Pout de’ lips!” Drake looked back at Neal and jutted his bottom lip out awkwardly, unsure what he was doing exactly. “CHIN UP! Hollow those cheeks!” Drake sucked his cheeks between his teeth, still with his lip out as he flexed his muscles. Click after click came, and the camera spit Polaroids out one after the other. Neal suddenly dropped the camera to his side. “No, no … this is all wrong. Something is missing …” Neal popped his hip as he tapped a finger to his lips, thinking. “AH-HA!”

Neal turned on his heel and headed towards a closet, flinging the door open. He began throwing items behind him while he looked for something: a hot pink feather boa sailed through the air, a can of glitter spray, some rope and duct tape, a pair of heeled combat boots, a deflated blow-up doll, and what Drake was pretty certain was a dildo.

Neal emerged from the closet a moment later, holding a pair of sunglasses in his hand with a triumphant smile. “All of that and sunglasses was what you were looking for?”

“Do not question my creative mind! Put these on.” Drake did as he was asked and slipped the sunglasses on; Neal fixed Drake’s hair again and looked at him with a broad grin. “PERFECTION! Now strike that same pose as last time.”

An entire roll of film later -- and after putting on the offered clothes that he had declined to wear before -- Drake was thankful to be slipping back into his own clothing. Neal gathered up the Polaroids scattered around his feet, wearing a gleeful smile. “Uh … so did you get the shots you needed?” Drake asked as he slipped his shoes on.

“Oh, yes,” Neal giggled. “These are splendid.”

Drake watched as he flipped through the pictures, almost as if Neal had forgotten he was even there. Drake cleared his throat. “So, uh … my payment?”

“Oh, right,” Neal said. Keeping his eyes on the photos, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled one dollar bill and outstretched his arm, handing it to Drake.

“A FUCKING DOLLAR?” Drake bellowed; his booming voice caused Neal to snap his gaze over to him.

“A set amount was never agreed upon.”

“GIVE ME THOSE!” Drake snatched the pile of photos from Neal’s hand. “You fucking greasy ass freak!” He turned and stormed up the stairs.

“Did you two have fun?” Neal’s mother asked Drake as he stormed through the kitchen.

Drake didn’t answer. His eyes fell on the plate of cookies; he reached out and snatched one before running outside.

****

“You … you got a whole ass dollar for all of that?” Charlotte howled. Liam was now lying on his back with his hands on his chest; his face was red, and the veins in his neck bulged from lack of oxygen as he continued to laugh. “You can’t even get something from the dollar menu at McDonald’s for just a dollar. You were short of the tax,” she squealed through a giggle, resting her head on Liam as he laughed harder and rolled towards her.

Maxwell stood and clapped Drake on the shoulder. “Sorry your modeling career didn’t work out, buddy. I’m gonna be honest, these aren’t the most flattering photos, so maybe it worked out for the best.” He went back to cleaning out the garage, singing, “I’m a model, you know what I mean. And I do my little turn on the catwalk.” Maxwell spun in a circle and began to moonwalk backward. “Yeah, on the catwalk, on the catwalk, yeah.”

Charlotte stood up. “Drake shakes his little tush in Neal’s basement.” She turned towards Drake and shimmied her butt. Liam threw his head back in another laugh as he finally attempted to stand.

****

Several days later, Drake was in the newly cleaned garage with his brewing station set up. He was eager to get started after spending a lot of time researching different ingredients and methods. He was interrupted by an urgent knock on the garage door. When he opened it, there was a delivery man holding two large thin packages.

“Drake Walker?” the man asked.

“Yeah, that’s me. What’s all this?”

The man shoved the packages into Drake’s arms as he replied, “Delivery from Her Majesty, the Queen.”

Drake peeled off the envelope from the front of one of the boxes.

Dear Drake,

I thought these would add a nice touch to your brewery.

xoxo,

Charlotte

Drake opened the boxes and noticed that they were large pictures. When he saw what they were, he groaned. He looked at 24 by 36 framed canvases of his modeling photos. “Why did I think this would be something I actually wanted?”

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

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sorcererrezan · 3 years

Text

unconvinced

congratulations on outdoing yourself yet AGAIN with chapter 7 @ataleofcrowns 💛 you are truly on another level queen 😌✨

prompt: “Then tell me, how can I convince you?” (list here) pairing: X/crown rating: spicy T 😏 word count: 1,929 summary: ‘It would be so easy to make him kneel for you, the way he clearly wants to—’

Crown Navid shows Xelef that two can play his game.

—

Liar.

It’s what the earth spirits had said, but now, ensconced in his palace, where he has invited in those who are merely curious about him at best and possibly strategizing his murder at worst, Navid hears it in his own voice.

The control he has maintained since Ishrah and Siham opened his doors this morning squeezes around his chest. It pinches and he can feel his heart bursting out of the gaps of its hold, turning into spikes.

Navid’s eyes thin into slits of piercing gold. His tone, now devoid of its casual charm, is flat. Unamused. “I’m not convinced.”

Xelef, just as persistent, gauges him. Navid can pinpoint the exact moment the sellsword decides on his next tactic, green eyes shifting hues like a turning emerald.

“Then tell me, how can I convince you?”

Just as much as Xelef is surely leaning on his sensory abilities, Navid’s awareness of the situation rises. Above his disrespected aggravation and Xelef’s agile contortions he can see the conflict between his own present and Xelef’s past. In the back of his mind he notes a sense of affronted duplicity—isn’t this the same man that warned him against self-destructive paralysis, the one that saw through his worries leading up to today and offered reassuring distraction?

Why can’t Xelef use that insight to understand the position he’s put a newly coronated Crown in, instead of to devise an escape from the consequences of his impulses?

Xelef steps close, as skilled at wielding a weapon as he is his own body. Navid’s thick brows furrow at himself, at the way his reaction betrays him, heart rabbiting in response to the enticingly deep fragrance clouding the mercenary, the ridges and valleys of his form set in such a tantalizing display. Navid can feel the heat from Xelef’s bare chest even through the rich fabric of his ceremonial robes and the magic imbued in them. Xelef’s hand on his shoulder is a reminder of his size and strength, of his willful potential to overpower.

“Shall I beg you again, on my knees this time?”

Every single thing about him is a distraction.

If Xelef wanted to keep up their easy flirtation from this morning, he shouldn’t have soured it by testing the limits of Navid’s control. But now that he has…

An open palm finds the heated skin of Xelef’s abdomen, gliding across hard muscles; callouses catching on the random, puckered skin of his scars. Navid can hear Xelef’s rushed inhale before it turns into a low chuckle. He lets his lips brush against the goosebumps on Xelef’s neck before he murmurs, breath hot on his ear, “Kneel, mercenary.”

The last word is a sharp hiss, accompanied by the bite of his blunt nails on Xelef’s bare skin. The muscles underneath his touch jump as Navid pulls him down, fingertips gliding up his torso along the way. Xelef would look almost reverent, on his knees before him like this, if it weren’t for the devious gleam of getting what he wanted in his eyes.

Navid’s lips twist into something wicked.

“Beg for my forgiveness,” he repeats, voice husky, one hand cradling Xelef’s jaw in a commanding grip. Navid feels powerful. Different from the ways before when he has bent Xelef to his will because this time, there’s no perceptive audience.

Distraction or not, this is all for him.

Xelef bites his bottom lip and Navid eyes the plumpness of it, gaze sharpening in vindication as the man in front of him lets out a shaky, almost whining, exhale.

“Please forgive me, Navid,” dark eyelashes flutter in a practiced way that Navid is nonetheless susceptible to. The use of his given name throws him off guard, widening his stare. Another distraction, or an attempt at sincerity? Only the Void knows for sure.

Navid nods, letting some of his cool charm return in an inviting smile. The hand on Xelef’s jaw slides to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through the smooth locks of his hair. “You look good like this, Xelef.”

“So do you,” he eyes Navid hungrily, not even hiding the lascivious way his stare roves from right below his waistline, up the slim taper of his waist, the flare of his shoulders, then lingers on his lips before making eye contact and meeting fire with fire.

Navid’s smile shifts into a smirk and he tightens his hand into a domineering fist, pulling Xelef’s hair, holding him in precarious place as he leans over him. He makes a show of sliding his eyes from Xelef’s to his mouth as he bends closer then closer still, until the mercenary’s long lashes flutter closed in anticipation.

Their lips are separated only by their breath when Navid tugs—not gently—and Xelef lets out a choked half of a groan.

“Don’t ever deign to undermine me like that again. Especially not amongst these vultures,” Navid spits the last word out, voice testy and dangerous in a way Xelef has never heard before. He conceals his unspoken ‘I need you on my side.’ in another jarring pull of his hair, forcing Xelef to bare his throat to him. “Do you understand, Pale Sword?”

From his vantage point he can see Xelef’s desperate swallow, can hear the submission in his shaky exhale of a response. “Yes… my Crown.”

“Good.”

Navid breaks away like a glacier’s cliff dropping into the sea. For half a second Xelef crumples, not expecting the loss of support so immediately, before his muscles clench and he regains his balance. Spirits help him, but he is not immune to the way Xelef’s abdominals, framed by the rich textures of his formalwear, dance under his tanned, hairy skin.

Navid keeps a calculated, cunning look on his face as Xelef rises on his own, eyeing him in equal parts defeated respect and surprised annoyance.

“I suppose I deserved that,” comes the begrudging admission. Finally, Xelef’s sincerity outweighs Navid’s doubts.

“Don’t mistake my reciprocation of your attention for naïveté,” Navid pins him with a knowing stare, a reminder that as much as Xelef can see through him, he can see the same. And to let him know that, even still, he wants to continue cultivating this “whatever you want it to be” that’s growing between them. Navid doesn’t know what Xelef’s romantic past looks like—and doesn’t much care—but if Xelef wants to keep courting his favor, he needs to know that there are harsh lines that Navid will not allow him to cross.

“I’m sick of people hiding things I should know from me.”

The last part comes out more resentful than Navid intends, tinged with his turbulent reflections about his parents’ debilitating omissions and how exhausting it is to think of learning to divine the nobility’s nebulous motives and intentions.

“You’ve known me for mere days, and you expect me to bare all my secrets to you because I helped you once?” Xelef snaps back, patience run ragged after Navid turned the tables on him. It stings. The fatigue of the day’s emotions slams into Navid all at once, his hurt the delayed catalyst.

He takes a deep breath, recentering himself. Is his pride worth it? They’ve both made their point. And he doesn’t quite yet know where the line for Xelef is, when taking advantage of their attraction to each other morphs into something destructive.

He sighs. So many calculations today, mind overstuffed by the endless observations he’s made to try to perceive everyone around him. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Navid shrugs, closing himself off from the weight of it all. He never asked for any of this responsibility, still doesn’t understand why the spirits chose him. Did they do it with the person he could’ve been before he spent a decade on the run in mind? Or with the decorated shell of a man he is now, desperately trying to fill his insides after those he trusted to protect and guide him failed? Maybe he really is naive, for dreaming that his problems could be solved simply by finding his sorcerer and finally becoming the Crown.

“You’re right, after all. We’ve only known each other a short time, and we’re not friends. I’m only your employer, right?” If Xelef wants to shield himself with that context, so be it. Navid is just as good at hiding.

“Navid…” Regret paints Xelef’s face an unfamiliar expression.

“It is what it is. You have your secrets. I have mine.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Xelef,” he interrupts tiredly with an open palm. “It’s alright. I understand. Just don’t get me killed.”

Navid forces a smile to soften the jibe, retreating back into performance. Xelef opens his mouth as if to say something, brow bunched as he seems to sway between decisions.

“I’ll just see you—”

“The Mîrs of Rojan and I have a long, bloody history together. I don’t want to speak of Behram, but…”

Xelef holds Navid’s gaze, still wavering for a beat before choosing his path. Something parts behind his eyes, something that allows both of them to see. How alike they are. How tired. How terrified and cautiously hopeful.

Xelef tells his story about Behram’s predecessor. Navid listens raptly, fully aware that this vulnerability could be fleeting, and hangs onto it. The part of him that doesn’t ache for Xelef as he unravels the tragedy of his childhood is grateful for the distraction from his own maelstrom of trauma and emotions.

“Then why did you help me?” Navid asks, feeling the gulf of his status between him and Xelef more distinctly than ever.

“I… had my own reasons,” he doesn’t meet Navid’s eyes when he answers. Though it’s not the reassurance that he wanted to hear—that he did it for more than just the potential of gold or vengeance—at least it’s the truth.

“In any case, does this sate your curiosity a little bit?”

Navid recognizes the attempt at lightheartedness as a tool, though just like with his own attempt earlier, it’s outweighed by the ghosts that linger around them both.

“Is this usually how you leave people sated after kneeling for them?” It’s not quite the same playfulness that’s usually between the two of them, not after what they’ve found out about each other today, but it proves that they can bounce back. Move forward, together.

“No, but today was a special occasion,” Xelef smiles, though it looks dim on his face. It flickers away, making room for the solemnity in his voice. “You should know—I told you that because I wanted to.”

“I do know.”

Navid reaches for Xelef, this time with no ulterior motive, but someone clears their throat before they touch.

“Yes?” Navid tries not to let exasperation color his tone—the guards don’t deserve his ire. Still, he can’t help but be disappointed at the interruption, especially since this feels like some sort of breakthrough between him and Xelef.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Ah, right. The banquet and its accompanying expectations. Navid sighs, imagining the steam rising from the bath he plans on sinking into after all this. Alone.

“You go on ahead,” Xelef concedes. “I think I need some time to myself.”

“Will I see you later?”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” relief flushes out Navid’s discordant emotions, and he holds on to the smile that Xelef sends his way to bolster him for the rest of the night. “You haven’t paid me yet, after all.”

“I’m good for it,” Navid hopes his returning smile, laden with the complications of things said and unsaid but sanguine nonetheless, does the same for Xelef.

#a tale of crowns #xelara/xelef #x/crown #interactive fiction #atoc prompt #atoc spoilers #otp: for you i'll try my very best #fic #oc: navid riahi #congrats again bestie 😘#the distractions to lovers HIT SO FUCKING HARD IN CHAPTER 7 #i am LOVING the progression of the romance and the direction it's going #the payoff is gonna be DELICIOUS #just had to stretchhhhhh out that scene and explore a delicious what if 👀#also yes this is THEE navid with the bedroom eyes #i know y'all have seen his portrait 😏#alt title: X fucks around and finds out

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