#that's not even getting into how her first instinct with the stolen jewels is to cover for him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

talkfantasytome · 5 months

Text

It's Instinct - Chapter 1

The Archerons arrive at their townhouse in Yin, settling in for a season of society.

Warnings: Emotional Abuse | Word Count: 3,251 | Read on AO3

It's Instinct Masterlist

a/n: Hello @dustjacketmusings!! Idk which you'll see first, but yes, it is I, your secret santa! I was soooo excited to get you and to have the chance to build something special for you! I hope you like it. I took into consideration your enjoyment of magical/supernatural AUs, am sprinkling in some rivalry, and definitely there will be some angst (I hope it comes across well). However, my schedule did not allow for me to write a short book in one month - how rude - so this will be some time in the making, but hopefully you'll enjoy taking this journey with me!

And thank you @acotargiftexchange for putting this all together and organizing this lovely exchange!

"Will you stop shaking your leg? Honestly, one would think you have to relieve yourself."

Her mother started on a new rant directed at Nesta. Droning on about proper, ladylike behavior again. A lady doesn't reveal her needs. A lady doesn't display extreme emotions. A lady doesn't fidget. A lady doesn't shake the carriage.

Nesta knew all these things. She was typically very good at them. But it took every ounce of will in her to remain even this calm as they neared Yin.

The scent of the dew unfathomably mixed with the first snow of winter grew with each mile they traveled. And the rattling of the wheels seemed to sing to the beat of "closer, closer, closer". Nesta's heart picked up the rhythm, beating along and growing in strength.

She hadn't seen Yin since her graduation day. That night her mother whisked them all back home and then on to a three-year tour of the most eligible bachelors the continent had to offer. Disguised as an opportunity to hone her power further, to learn from the best Reason masters in the world. Unsurprisingly, her mother didn't care to hear much about those lessons. Her thoughts and conversation revolved entirely around what Nesta would wear to the next ball, who she should speak to, what she should ask about, who to accept dances with, and regular emphasis on keeping her thoughts to herself.

For families who cared so much about intelligence and power, they seemed far more interested in finding a vapid and thoughtless jewel to adorn their sons' arms.

Not that the sons had much to offer. Nesta found their conversation bland and mediocre. They had nothing to say that was challenging in the least, save for their misogynistic undertones and expectations.

It shouldn't have come as such a shock that Nesta didn't manage to secure a 'suitable' marriage. The ones that were determined enough to make an actual offer never lasted longer than a week into the planning, much to Nesta's pleasure. And even more so to her mother's chagrin.

Nesta couldn't regret it, though, no matter how unpleasant her mother could be. As excited as she was to travel the continent, to learn from the masters and take in new knowledge they didn't teach in Prythian, she was ready to go back. Back to the city that had stolen her heart in her three years at the Academy.

She hadn't expected to be back so soon after they returned from the continent. But apparently her mother was in a rush, worried that news of her unfavorable disposition would reach Prythian before she could get Nesta married. And Yin was the only place in Prythian where they might find an appropriate match by her mother's standards. The only place that held families rich and powerful enough for that, though none so much as those on the continent - as her mother kept reminding her.

"It's really no wonder you couldn't find a husband. Your lack of self-control will be the destruction of this family."

Her mother had managed to pivot back to Nesta's horrible showing on the continent by the time they finally reached their town house. Her favorite subject.

"Eileen," their father sighed.

"Don't start with me, Owen!" she snapped before he had a chance to say anything else.

He let out a breath and gave in, opening the door to their carriage and leading the family into the house. Nesta was surprised he even bothered trying. Absent is too kind a word to describe his presence in Nesta's upbringing. He never cared for his eldest. Nesta sometimes wondered if she were really his.

The three sisters followed their parents in age order, not one of them feeling a sense of relief for being in the town house. It was never a home for any of them.

From the street, the house gave off a sense of welcome and life that would be drowned out the second Nesta stepped into the foyer. No one knew the lie that was the façade of this house. How the perfectly kept up flowers, bushes, and crawling ivy and morning glory was all just a front for the despair that laid within.

Inside was more of the same. Pristinely decorated, it was designed entirely for show. A place for the family to rest the few times a year they were in Yin. To help keep up appearances, ensure everyone knew they maintained a certain degree of wealth. Everyone who was anyone had a house in Yin. And while many wealthy families did permanently resid here, the Archerons main estate was in the port city of Adriata. It was far easier for their father, as a tradesman and merchant, to do his business from there. And when he had business in Yin, he often didn't bring the family, knowing he'd be able to keep his trip shorter that way.

Nesta hated this house. It was worse than the manor by the sea - at least that one was large enough she could hide, avoid her mother when it wasn't time for her various lessons. The grounds were sprawling. It was so easy to find a tree on the edge of them to settle under and read. It was well decorated, always perfectly clean and ready to entertain visitors, but it was still lived in. Books and notes and clothes were strewn about her room. Flowers from Elain's garden adorned almost every table. Feyre's paintings were hung in the private rooms of the manor. Their father's favorite treasures could be found accenting various rooms, a great conversation starter for those curious.

This house had none of that. It was filled with the latest trends in home décor. The right rugs and settees, tables made from the finest of mahogany or whatever wood was currently in season. Paintings only from the most famous of artists, flowers from some boutique shop, and there was not one ounce of character in any of the bedrooms. Any family could live here and no one would know.

She never truly felt at home in the manor, but here she was a prisoner. Made all the worse by her adoration of Yin. It was easier to be trapped far away from the city than to be just one wall away but unable to enjoy it.

Nesta reached her ordinary room, draped in fabrics of pale blue and silver, and plopped down on her bed. The journey from Adriata was long. She was certain she could've slept for two days, but before she could adjust her body to be properly on the bed, she heard a knock on the door.

"Nesta?" Elain's soft voice called from the other side of it.

"Hmmm?"

Taking that as an invitation, Elain opened the door and walked in, followed quickly by Feyre. They shut the door behind them and walked over to Nesta. "We were going to walk to the market and wondered if you'd like to come with," Elain offered.

"Get some fresh air," Feyre added. "Away from mo-oof." She was cut off by Elain's less-than-gentle nudge to the stomach.

Nesta let out a sigh and sat up. The stresses of travel were weighing heavily on her, but getting out of the house and into the city did sound wonderful. "Yeah," Nesta agreed. "Let me just change first. I'll meet you in the foyer in 15 minutes."

Her sisters nodded and left the room, likely to change out of their travel clothes as well.

The trunk with her dresses had already been brought up to the room, the carriage carrying their things likely arriving before they had. She walked over to it and quickly dug through her clothes, picking out a simple, purple grey dress. It had some minor detail on the torso, but was plain enough it wouldn't draw too much attention.

She pulled off her shirt and skirt and threw the dress over her, using the external straps to tighten the waist enough to show off her figure. The floor-length skirt shimmered slightly in the light breaking through her windows, giving off a slight glow to the fabric. She walked over to the mirror and took out her hair, the updo disheveled from the journey. She brushed through the long, golden brown locks and then re-did it, sticking it right back up into her favorite braided coronet style.

Nesta grabbed her deep purple, valor cloak and fastened it as she made her way out her room and down the stairs. The fur trim around the hood was already beginning to warm her up, and the delicate silver flowers at the bottom popped with each step she took. Elain and Feyre were already waiting for her in fresh dresses, pulling on their gloves and chatting quietly.

"Are you ready?" Feyre asked as Elain handed Nesta her own gloves.

"Absolutely," Nesta replied.

Sharp footsteps that had all three girls straightening sounded behind them. "And where are you three going?" their mother's pointed voice asked.

"We were just going to take a walk to the market, mama," Elain explained in a sweet voice she used to get her way. It almost always worked.

"We just arrived. Surely you three have to get settled in your rooms."

"Yes, but we've been traveling for so long. We thought getting some fresh air and sunshine would be good for us."

Their mother looked at each of her daughters, moving an assessing gaze from one to the next. "Fine. Be home in time for dinner."

"Yes, mama," the three said in unison. They turned and hastened through the door before she could change her mind.

Once out of the house they each took a breath of relief. Nesta was bristling with excitement as she took in the city around them. The clouds were as white and fluffy as ever, drifting across the azure sky. It was midday, and yet something about them looked as if dawn were still lingering, a rose gold glow lining them.

With their house residing in the Rì chū - as the locals called their neighborhood - it was only a short walk to the Lí míng Market, the unofficial center of the city. The true center was still a mile away, filled with golden buildings where business and politics took place. But the market, that was the social center. Shops lined the street and stalls filled it, displaying goods from all over the world. Political hopefuls would gather in the center, preaching their opinions and fighting for change. Old friends would meet in the various cafes to catch up over cups of tea. New lovers would wander the aisles, browsing aimlessly as they sought to know each other better.

There was always something to see or do at the market, always something to entertain. But what Nesta loved best was the variety. People from all over Prythian lived in Yin, and you could see them all at the market. Their different dress styles and how they wear their hair, the various accents and intonations they speak in. It was all here, in this bustling market.

They were browsing a small jewelry stall when Elain let out a loud sigh. "You know, as lovely as this city is, I do wish we could've spent a bit more time in Adriata before coming here."

"Speak for yourself," Feyre said, her eyes tracking a pack of boys around her age that were passing them. "Did all the guys look like that when you were at the Academy, Nesta?"

"Like rowdy, eighteen-year-olds? Yes." Nesta didn't even bother looking at the group, more interested in a rose pendant painted to look like flames.

She could hear the roll in Feyre's eyes as she responded, "Cute, Nesta. I meant cute."

"I wasn't paying that much attention," she explained, placing the pendant down. It was beautiful, but her mother would never let her wear it out. Even looking at it she could feel eyes on her, as if her mother was watching all the way from their house. "Some were cute, some weren't, I'm sure. But if you're truly interested, you could always enroll in the Academy."

Feyre let out a loud snort that drew more than a few eyes, but Nesta tried to ignore it, moving them along to the next stall. "As if I'd be allowed to," Feyre lamented. "Mother didn't allow Elain to enroll."

"Really? As I recall it, Elain opted not to enroll," Nesta countered.

"What?!" Feyre pivoted, eyes on Elain, who suddenly found a new stall she wished to see halfway across the market and rushed off. "She never told me that." Her voice softened slightly as she slid up to Nesta's side.

Nesta turned to give Feyre a small smile. "I think she was worried you'd think she was staying for you. You just assumed she didn't have the option, it was easier to keep it that way."

"Was she? Staying for me."

"Not entirely. She didn't want to leave you alone, but she also wanted to stay for father. And, in the end, she's not as interested in our magic. She was more interested in staying home, getting to spend time on her hobbies and the garden. But it was her choice. Believe me. I tried to convince her to go."

Feyre let out a contemplative sound, her eyes moving to the clocks made from wine bottles that were displayed on the stall in front of them. "I still doubt I'd be allowed to enroll, assuming I could get in."

"You'd get in. You're an Archeron."

"Doesn't change the mother of it all. She'd never let me go. She'd never spend that kind of money on me."

"Feyre," Nesta sighed, knowing exactly where this was going.

"Nesta," Feyre parried. "Don't pretend. Our whole lives, everything has been about you. She doesn't care about us. Only you."

Nesta simply shook her head. "That's not true."

It wasn't about Nesta.

It never was. Not one thing in her life. Not the dance lessons, the private tutors, the fancy dresses. Not even her birth. As her mother always said, she was bred. No, she wasn't born or conceived or made with love, but bred. Like a prize show pony.

It was one of the reasons Nesta enjoyed her time at the Academy so much. The freedom. She could stay up all night, engrossed in a book if she wanted to. She could spend hours in the various museums, devouring chocolate from her favorite shop, or strolling through the Lí míng Market.

It hadn't been perfect freedom. Her mother's eye was far-reaching, she still kept Nesta 'in line', but the boundaries were far larger than Nesta had ever experienced. She just needed to stay away from Instinct - the other school of magic. Emotional, raucous, intense - they were dangerous. Nesta had heard the stories of Reason practitioners who'd gotten mixed up in Instinct. It never ended well.

Feyre could lecture her all she wanted on how Nesta was given everything. How their mother's life revolved around Nesta, but it never truly did. Their mother's life revolved around their mother, and Nesta was a mere tool in the process.

Her tone turned sharper. "Well, that's how it looks to me." And with that comment, Feyre stalked away.

One day Feyre might understand, but Nesta sure hoped that would never happen. That her mother would never shift her focus to Elain or Feyre. She prayed to the gods every day that they would never know what their mother's 'caring' felt like.

Leaving her sisters to their own interests, Nesta continued her path down the aisle of stalls, stopping whenever something caught her eye. She never lingered for long, unable to shake that feeling that she was being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck remained upright, a tingling sensation spreading through her body.

Nesta was sure she was growing paranoid. There were hundreds of people at the market. Plenty probably looked at her for a moment, but surely no one was watching her. And her mother hated the market, she certainly wouldn't have come out to it just to watch Nesta shop.

When she reached the end of the aisle, Nesta looked around for the tenth time, her eyes scanning every divot and alleyway when her gaze fell upon a pair of bright, hazel eyes that were clearly following her. Even being caught, they remained on her, a spark igniting in them, mesmerizing Nesta and holding her stare. She lost her breath for a moment. It took a minute before she gathered the strength of will to break away from his gaze and look upon the face those eyes held.

His face was nearly as intense as his stare. A strong jaw and high cheekbones, with a scar through the left eyebrow, half-hidden by some of the dark hair that fell in his face. His lips were spread into a knowing smirk. It ignited something deep within her that she couldn't quite name.

He was leaning against a lamp post, his ridiculously muscular arms crossed over his just as insane torso. Even in that stance he was daunting. She could only imagine what he'd be like at full height.

Meeting his gaze again, she finally realized what it was she was feeling.

Fury.

The audacity of this man, to watch her go through the market. To give her such a smug grin, as if he knew she would come up to him now that she's seen him. She had the mind to do just that and tell him off. Before she could, she heard her name being called.

"Nesta! You must come see these!" Elain exclaimed, walking up to her and grabbing her hand, beginning to pull her toward some stall. Nesta looked to her sister reflexively, and when she looked back the man was gone. As if he'd disappeared on the wind. "Nesta?" Elain asked, noticing her sister not moving.

"Sorry," Nesta breathed, turning to Elain. "I was lost in thought. What are we looing at?"

Elain grinned widely and led her to a stall selling cloak clasps. Feyre was already there, holding up a beautiful clasp of stars. Nesta wasn't entirely sure how the designer was able to make a full clasp of defined stars, but there it was in her sister's hands, one of the most beautiful cloak clasps she'd ever seen.

"That's lovely, Feyre," Nesta said, the best peace offering she could provide. Feyre gave her a big smile and nod, her form of an acceptance.

"And look at these!" Feyre held up two others, a floral bouquet clasp and one of silver flames.

"Oh, wow!" Nesta could hardly get the words out as she took the clasp of fire and examined it. She'd never seen its equal.

Feyre could never full explain it, but whenever she was painting a representation of her sisters, she always painted these three symbols. Flowers for Elain, stars for herself, and flames for Nesta. Nesta's favorites were always the ones where she turned the flames silver, 'like your eyes,' she would say. Not that Nesta's eyes were actually silver, but apparently they could look that way in some lightings.

"It's just too perfect, isn't it?" Elain asked, already reaching into her coin purse and handing money to the keeper of the stall for all three of them.

"It's more than that. It's fate," Feyre agreed.

Nesta smiled softly as she wrapped her hand around her new clasp. "It's certainly something," she murmured.

a/n: I hope no one minds some sisterly moments. It wasn't truly purposeful, but there's something about giving the sisters a better bond that felt right for this fic.

I stuck with East Asia as inspiration for aspects of this city - particularly the names for now, but I'm going to be trying to work in more around fashion and other things throughout the fic - because this is meant to take place in the area that would be the Dawn Court in canon Prythian.

Pronunciations - I am linking to "word hippo" for the words I used. They have a little speaker icon you can click on to hear the pronunciation, as technically the English spelling is the phonetic spelling. I did speak with a native Mandarin-speaking friend to make sure I got the right words, but she could not help me with phonetic spellings, so this is the best way to do this, I believe.

Lí míng | Rì chū

Tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @imsointobooks @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @imsointobooks @perseusannabeth @shinya-hiiragi @a-court-of-milkandhoney @pintas3107 @embersofwildfire @superspiritfestival @thewayshedreamed @lunabean @xstarlightsupremex @mis-lil-red @wannawriteyouabook @dealfea @bridgertononmymind @daydreamer-anst @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @hiimheresworld @c-e-d-dreamer @kale-theteaqueen

#nessian #acotar gift exchange #nesta archeron #it's instinct #magical au #historical-like au #period drama-ish #but with magic #emotional abuse #archeron sisters #cassian #angst #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic

35 notes · View notes

lily-drake · 2 years

Text

The Demon’s Queen

Chapter Seven

First <> Previous

“Kid.”

“You will refer to me as Master.”

“Really, another one of you?”

“...”

“Fine, look, all I’m asking is if you can let us talk to our Grand Guardian.”

The black cat asked agitatedly as it flew around the room unable to touch any of his property.

“No. I will not have you corrupt the girl more than you already have. I can only imagine how much life you have stolen from that boy.”

Damian said passively as he looked over the documents and reports from his shadows around the world. It appeared he may need to leave for a few days in order to deal with a partner that was thinking of going rogue. That wouldn’t do.

The little god flew right in front of his line of vision, stopping him from scanning the papers. Damian sighed and pushed away from his desk.

“We can’t touch our jewels, we can’t help her, you made certain of that. So why can’t we talk to her when she is alone in her room?”

“I do not trust you, and know not to underestimate her. With you there are many things that she can do, even if you do not directly help her.”

The cat let out a sly grin, turning upside down as he stared Damian down.

“You’re a smart one, I may start to like you if you believe in our guardian’s abilities that much.”

“I do not choose people that I would like to keep close to me lightly. There is a reason she is here instead of continuing a never ending battle back in Paris.”

The cat hummed before sighing as he flew over to where the spotted bug was seated far away from Damian and the other kwamii were situated. Damian sighed as he turned his head to look out the windows. The sun was completely gone, and it looked like there would be a snow storm soon, he better get some air before then. Calmly, Damian left the room and began his walk through the halls towards the courtyard so he could look at the night sky before he began his nightly patrol.

As soon as he stepped outside, he knew something was amiss. It was fine though, he would figure it out, if it was deadly he would have noticed by now. He walked the grounds until he noticed a shadow hidden behind a pillar.

“Stop hiding Marinette, you do not blend in with the shadows very well yet.”

Slowly he watched as the young girl limped from the shadows.

“Why do you limp?”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because I am your Head.”

“Not of my own volition. You kidnapped me, you bas*!”

She shouted, arms crossed around herself as a slight shiver wracked her body. No one had ever addressed him like this. No one had ever dared. He narrowed his eyes at her, but she didn’t back down.

“I could have you flogged for that.”

“Then do it! Everyone here says that I’m going to die, so better yet, why don’t you just finish the job?! Kill me!”

Damian didn’t know what to do. He had never been put in this situation, no one had dared to question him like this. His hand instinctively reached for his katana, clenching his fist around the hilt to keep himself grounded. He had been getting better at controlling his anger, especially when he needed the support of the person he was interacting with.

“I do not wish to argue with you, nor do I wish for your death. Unfortunately, in this line of work, the likelihood of casualties is high. That is why you are training.”

There was a long pause where they both stared the other down, emerald green against sapphire blue, the earth versus the sky, and it seemed neither of them would back down.

“So did you kill them?”

She asked, disgust and anger heavy in her tone.

“I’ve killed many, you will have to be specific.”

Damian replied plainly.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

She growled, though he couldn’t hear a slight tremor in her voice.

“If you are referring to the terrorists in you city, then no. I received news that the ambulance had made it in time.”

“What did you do to Chat?”

He is alive and well, no harm came to him.

He watched as her shoulders fell slightly in relief at his words though she never dropped her fierce gaze from his.

A cold breeze passed through them, a reminder of what was soon to come.

“A storm is coming, it would be best if you return to your quarters unless you wish to freeze.”

“Freezing to death sounds better than returning to a cage.”

Damian kept his face neutral, but he just did not understand. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and while he was agitated at the defiance he was not angry. The fire in his eyes he had seen while they had been sparring and witnessed many times while she was in the midst of battle burned with a ferocious intensity. As he stared at her he could pick apart each of her emotions, her body an open book.

Her eyes showed a fierce anger and hatred, her body was ready for action though from the shaking she was both cold and exhausted. Damian had never cared whether or not someone had liked him before. All he cared about was that they kept their oath and did their job. But for some reason the idea of her hating him made him…uncomfortable. The wind picked up once more and small flecks of white began to float through the air. It was time for this conversation to come to a close.

“I will return you to your quarters now.”

“No you will not.”

“You do not get a say in this.”

And before she could say another word he grabbed her wrist and began to drag her away. He felt her fight against his grip, twisting and turning as she tried to escape his grasp, but he kept a firm grip. It was loose enough that she wouldn’t bruise, but she would not be able to break it anytime soon, especially in her weakened condition.

“Let go of me you psychotic jacka*! You can’t keep me here forever!”

She yelled, her breathing picking up as panic corded through her body. Once they were in front of her door he let go of her wrist, watching as she pulled it close to her chest as if she could shield it a way from his grip. He watched as she took in shuddered breaths, her eyes watering as her face turned down into a frustrated snarl.

“Why can’t you just let me go? I’m useless without my Miraculous and you already destroyed the threat to my city.”

Goodness this girl was frustrating. Did she really not see her own strength? Not understand how the people around her were holding her back from her true potential as they greedily usurped her spirit. The longer he stared at her the more he could see that she truly believed that she carried little worth.

“I told you before, and I hope that I will never have to repeat myself. So listen closely, Marinette. I chose you because you have great potential to rise above others. You are skilled, far more than my one would expect as you have had no training before you became a hero. And on that fact you stepped up and protected what you found important while others would either shy away or use the power for selfish reasons. You have lost so many years of your life simply because you wanted to protect what you found was important. People use you, they will hold you back. You are here because you will lead others to greatness. I do not tell people these things lightly. Now be the warrior you were in Paris, the League will one day need your guidance.”

And with that, he turned and left to his own quarters, heart racing in an unfamiliar pattern. He didn’t know why his heart was acting like this, why a feeling of righteous fury filled his bones when he thought of her saying how unimportant she was. What other powers did this girl hold, and how could he use it to better his League.

__________

Marinette watched as the boy retreated, her attempt of escape thwarted. Her heart beat quickly in her chest as her blood flowed with an angry heat, and she could feel her throat closing in as she held in the urge to scream.

Fine, if he wanted her to be part of this organization so badly, she would do it. But she wouldn’t do it for the reasons he wanted. No, she would do it so that she could escape and if she failed, she would take this place down with her.

Taglist:

@sinoffalsejudgement @peachmuses @myazael @snnoww26 @dur55 @tip-tap-tired @ledalasombra @jennifer-rose123 @kylamai @plz-excuse-my-inner-gay @stella17luna @meduarts @toodaloo-kangaroo @valeks-star @crazylittlemunchkin @achaoticmess1 @queenz-z @doll246 @aespades @liquid-luck-00 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @demigraceling-blog @kashlyn @castle-bookworms-world @a-classic-bookworm @wheredoesonegetnameideas @ascetic-orange @night-ngale @0anodite0

94 notes · View notes

jdtrashman · 25 days

Text

Countdown To Dawntrail Week 1: Beginning City

Allienea Shepard stepped off the carriage and gazed up at the doors to Ul'Dah. The jewel of Thanalan. The site of the bloodsands, whose brutal reputation had reached even the ears of her people in faraway Thavnair. And a hateful cesspit of inequality and corruption.

Allie tied her burning red hair behind her head, straightened her new - totally not stolen skirt - and walked in as carefully as possible. Her first question shall be how the women of this country can actually walk around in these accursed things.

Ul'Dah, true to what she had heard during her five-year trek to this country, was always busy. The copper cobblestones were always underfoot of some adventurer or merchant, and even the palatial balconies above could hear the deals and arguments happening below as clearly as Allie could standing right next to them.

After talking to the lady of the inn, Momo something or other, Allie ventured to the Thaumaturge guild to get herself set up with room and board.

The guild was run by five lalafellian brothers, who inducted her into the guild with a mix of ceremony and menial tasks. The first three days were a routine of killing monsters outside the gates and bringing back proof of her kills in exchange for more lessons. All the while, whenever she could, she would ask around taverns and markets about the woman that had brought her to Eorzea. The only reason she was so far from home to begin with. So far? Nothing.

But it was on the fourth day when all of that would begin to change.

Allie was bringing back some animal skins for the guild when she saw a highlander woman sobbing on the ground, her feeble form passed over by the uninterested townsfolk. The men who had pushed her - Brass Blades, she had learned - spat on the woman. "next time, we tell you go get out of the way, ya Ala Mhigan bitch, you do as we say!!!" one of them screamed, spittle bursting from his all-but unhinged jaw. One last kick, and the men hopped aboard the luxurious carriage that was behind them as it continued. The wheels kicked mud onto the woman's legs, which only made her sob harder.

Allie stared at the carriage, most likely belonging to quite the man of means. And sure enough, through the tinted windows, she could barely make out the form of a Lalafell with an impressive mustache. The sight disgusted her. Angered her. And soon enough, she began to glare at the carriage. Thinking burning thoughts.

The man within would survive what happened next, his panicked and charred men pulling his coughing, wheezing body from the wreckage. It didn't take them long to figure out who was responsible. Sadly, they decided that it was the woman they had already disrespected. "Highlander dog!" the same guard shouted, drawing his blade. Allie's instinct was to slink back into the crowd. It would've been the smart thing to do. But then, letting the carriage go would also have been the smart thing to do. And never let a soul accuse Allienea Shepard of being smart.

"She didn't do it, I did!" Allie said, stepping forward, displaying her Thaumaturge staff as proof. Her charity was rewarded with the butt of the guard's sword meeting the side of her skull, and the blackness of sleep.

She awoke, shockingly, in the guild - instead of a cell. Apparently, what would otherwise have been a death sentence, was reduced to "community service" by a mysterious patron. The patron's messenger to the courts merely gave the initials M. W. to mark their influence. Cocobuki didn't know why, and neither did Allie, but the scolding she got from the guild masters made death seem preferable. Few things are as humiliating as having to capitulate to someone who barely reaches your knees.

The terms of her community service were simple: she was to accompany a knight of the sultansworn on his duties until the courts deemed her service to be filled. And so, a day later, her handler appeared. A Miqote paladin named Q'ihnn Tia.

She did not have time for this.

#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #ffxiv oc prompt #countdown to dawntrail #a realm reborn #allienea shepard

4 notes · View notes

parkersbliss · 3 years

Text

Diamonds | K. Brekker

pairing; kaz brekker x female!reader

warnings: cursing, I think that’s it

wc; 2.3K

synopsis: dirtyhands doesn’t need anyone, but he wants you, even if he can’t have you

prompts: 001: “why do you care?” 047: “please just let me in.”

a/n: this went in a very different direction then I planned but I love it??

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

Kaz Brekker was a lot of things.

Emotionally unavailable was one of them.

But you never thought much of it. You didn’t think less of him because of that. Surviving the barrel meant being cold, ruthless, and cunning.

Everyone had to have some dark side to them. It was a given.

But Kaz’s dark side never turned off. He was always in a constant state of brooding, thinking about all the ways the plan could fail or coming up with a new heist.

His brain never shuts off.

You never considered that a bad thing, but everyone has to rest eventually.

But rest wasn’t a word in Kaz’s dictionary. For him, resting meant thinking about other things.

Things that he wanted to forget.

So he busied himself with work, numbers, and other things to push the other thoughts out of his mind. Sometimes they were about Jordie and the harbor, sometimes they were about Rollins or you.

Kaz never wanted to forget you, but he didn’t want to think about you either. About the way, your lips curved up into a smile every time Jesper threw his arm around you. Or the way you throw your head back every time Nina makes a joke, the way you sit patiently with Wylan when he tries to read, the way you train so gracefully with Inej, and the way you make fun of Matthias’ accent.

He wants to push it all out of his mind because he doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t get how he manages to notice every detail about you.

It would cost him eventually, which is why he didn’t think about it. It’s why he tried to busy himself with things that have nothing to do with you.

But sometimes, it doesn’t always work out that way.

It was moments like these where Kaz is in a constant state of don’t fuck up and don’t say anything.

Which never goes in his favor.

The plan was simple, break-in and walk-out. There were three separate sections to the museum, and the event kept everyone pretty busy.

All you had to do was get in, steal a few jewels and then blend in with the crowd for the rest of the night.

It should be easy enough.

You all dress in your best attire, at least, the best attire that wouldn’t slow you down if you have to run. Kaz’s breath hitches in his throat when he sees you. Silky fabric, exposed skin, and all your beauty.

He nods at you as you fall into step behind him.

“You look nice,” You said.

“Thank you. So do you.”

You all find yourself in an ally by the museum as Inej scales the roof for her way in. You know she’s successful when the back entrance pops open, and she leans against the door frame with a satisfied smile on her face; her green dress trails along the floor as you make your way inside.

Bright fluorescent lights illuminate the hallway, and the sound of heels and Kaz’s cane echo down it. Kaz pick locks the three doors with ease, signaling for the groups of you to go in.

Matthias and Nina are responsible for the smaller riches, Inej, Wylan, and Jesper take care of replacing them, and you and Kaz get the big stuff.

The room sparkles with diamonds, almost blinding you. To Kaz, it smells like money. For each piece stolen, the two of you replace it with a cheaper place holder.

By the time anyone noticed, you would be gone.

You grab a ring off a stand, slipping it on and examining it in the light.

Kaz coughs, and you turn to face him.

He holds the most expensive piece in his hand, a diamond necklace.

It’s worth more than a quarter of a million kruge.

“Woah,” you breathe out. The diamonds are arranged in such a way that it sits close to the neck, and looks like small interconnected leaves.

“Wear it,” Kaz said.

“Kaz-”

“You would look… pretty with it,” The last part is barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” You agree, taking the piece from his hands. Your fingers barely brush his gloved ones as you take the necklace, clasping it around your neck.

Then, Kaz steps back. “I think we got most of it.”

You can’t take all of the riches, but you can take enough to make some serious bank. You exit the room, Kaz locking it after, and meet back in the hallway with everyone else. Inej and Nina both drip in equal expenses and gasp when they see your necklace.

“I almost want to keep it,” You said, touching the diamonds.

“It does look stunning on you,” Nina said.

“I’m sure we have enough to keep that piece,” Inej said, gesturing to the jewelry between you all.

“I do not understand the need for stones to prove one’s worth,” Matthias said.

Nina pats his shoulder, “It’s like you Fjerdans and your fur coats.”

"Witch," Matthias mumbled under his breath.

Kaz takes the lead, directing you to the main room. You can hear the sounds of people chattering, classical music floating in the air. You all split into smaller groups, mostly pairs, to avoid detection.

You and Kaz stay towards the center of the room, observing everyone else and waiting till the event ends.

As Kaz’s eyes sweep the ballroom, yours sweep over his face, familiarizing yourself with his features.

He has sharp cheekbones, fair skin, and a pointed nose. His lips are drawn down into the softest frown, and there are bags under his dark eyes. His eyebrow twitches ever so slightly whenever he sees someone he doesn’t like, and he runs a gloved hand through his hair, slicking it back more if it’s possible.

He was beautiful.

After a few more moments of mingling, they prepare to bring the jewelry out on display. You and Kaz back towards the exit, just in case something goes wrong.

The fake one sparkles just the same, and a clear difference can’t be seen. It’s only glass that Wylan had managed to craft by himself.

The servant gulps, taking careful steps with the case in his hand. His hands shake, and as he takes the first step up the stairs, he stumbles.

It shatters.

The glass scatters across the floor, the fake necklace you planted aside does the same, the pieces landing everywhere.

You can practically feel Kaz tense next to you when the crowd gasps; actual diamonds wouldn’t break.

“Don’t move,” Kaz whispers. He makes a hand gesture to the rest of the Dregs around the room that means remain still. “Act just as surprised.”

On any other occasion, it would be easy, but when the original necklace is dangling from your neck, it’s like an open target for anyone with eyes. Murmurs flow through the crowd, but no one pays any mind to the Dregs because you all look like you belong here. They’re looking for the black sheep among the white.

But they all look just the same.

“We will be conducting manual searches,” The guards announce.

“Saints,” You whisper, hand instinctively grabbing the diamonds on your neck.

“Plan B,” Kaz said. He meets Jesper’s eyes across the room, nodding his head, and Jesper smirks. He grabs one of his revolvers, firing a single shot and tucking it away before anyone notices. The crowd screams, everyone rushing to the exits as more shots are fired from various parties (some from Jesper, some from guards, or others who just love chaos).

You all make a run for it, using the main exit where guards were desperately trying to keep everyone in.

You watch Inej slip through with ease, Nina and Mattias next. Jesper gets held up, but he managed to talk his way out of it as Wylan tugs on his sleeve.

You and Kaz are last, taking your time to avoid being pushed in by the crowd. You could run ahead, get out before Kaz, but you don’t.

You stay by his side and maintain the slow pace, even when there’s a quarter of a million kruge hanging from your neck.

As you approach the exit, you’re one foot out when someone grabs your arm.

“I got her!” The guard shouts. He starts dragging you back inside as you try to dig your heel into their foot.

Then, in the span of a second, a cane comes down on his arm, a clear snap ringing out.

You stumble from their grasp, unknowingly using Kaz’s shoulder to steady yourself. He hisses but says nothing more because as soon as you notice, you let go.

“Nina!” You scream as the guards come pouring out the entrance.

It was clear who the target was.

The heartrender holds up her hands, effectively dropping their beat, but you underestimate how many there are.

“Run!” Jesper shouts.

And you do as you’re told. The guards open fire, and you bunch your dress in your hands, running through the streets of Ketterdam. Kaz begins to fall behind, and you slow down your pace.

“Jes, throw me a revolver!”

“What?”

“Throw it!”

Wylan rolls his eyes, fishing the gun from his boyfriend’s pocket and tossing it at you.

“What are you doing?” Kaz said.

“Saving your ass!” You reply.

“I don’t need your saving!” Kaz retorts, glaring at you.

You roll your eyes, “Fine, I’m covering you.”

“I don’t need that either.”

“Kaz-”

“I don’t need you!”

You nod, turning away from him to hide the hurt on your face. “No, of course, you don't."

You fire a single shot at a guard, busying yourself in taking a few out, so Kaz doesn’t get hit. When he’s a good way ahead, you sprint after the rest of the Dregs. You see the tail of Jesper’s coat disappear down an alleyway.

You fire one last round of shots and duck behind it. You move past Kaz, catching up with Jesper and thanking him.

He smiles, bumping your shoulder. “Anything for the lady.”

The slat is in sight, and you sigh in relief, happy to rest and unload all the jewels everyone is dripping in.

You could only imagine the amount of kruge you’d come up with.

Jesper opens the door for the Dregs, and you all practically collapse on the couch. You Nina and Inej are all on one, kicking off your heels.

“I hate heels,” You said.

“You’re telling me,” Inej replied. “Never again.”

Nina shrugs, “Annoying as hell, but they do work in place of a knife every now and then.”

“I am never without my knives.”

“We know.”

Kaz walks past you all, limping a bit worse than usual and going up to his office.

You don’t bother following after him. Instead, you all dump the jewelry on the table.

“Oh, saints,” Inej gasped.

Jesper leans back in his seat, “I think we’re set.”

“You’ll gamble it all away before we even cash it in,” Matthias said as Jesper scoffed.

“It’ll take me at least a few months to lose that.”

“Months?” Wylan asked.

“Like six tops.”

Everyone begins to argue, and you tune them out. You forgot about the most expensive piece hanging from your neck, absentmindedly playing with it. When you remember, you figure the best thing to do with it is give it up to Kaz.

With a sigh, you stand up, the fabric of your dress falling back into place.

You don’t bother knocking on his door, you know you should, but you didn’t care all that much.

“Here’s your necklace,” You said bitterly, dropping it on his desk.

“(Y/N)-”

“A quarter of a million kruge, enough to set you for life. That’s all you need, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure felt like it,” You snap.

“I just-,” Kaz sighed, avoiding your gaze. “Keep the necklace.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You don’t?” Kaz asked, eyebrows raised. “I thought you liked it. You should have it if that’s the case.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

You click your tongue, “Keep the fucking necklace, Kaz.”

Kaz curses himself, tugging at his hair. He was making the situation much worse. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn't piss you off. He thought the necklace would be like a peace offering, a sign of his thanks.

It backfired on him.

He’s bordering the line of being cold or grateful. When grateful didn’t work in his favor, he went for the other.

“I want you to have it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Please, take it.”

“It’s worth money. That’s far more important to both of us.”

Kaz shuts his eyes, “(Y/N), please.”

And you know this isn't about the necklace anymore. It never really was.

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. You were tired of pretending to brush off your feelings. It was killing you. Every time you tried to do something, Kaz pushed you back. You couldn't keep doing this to yourself.

“You either want this, or you don’t. Which one is it?”

“Please,” he said softly.

You sigh, blinking harshly. Your heart hammers in your chest. You take a breath, trying to calm yourself.

“Kaz, I need you,” You said softly, “Please just let me in.”

“I can’t,” He said, voice strained as he fights his demons. God, he wants to, but he's scared. He's scared of pushing you away or hurting either of you in the process. He couldn't go through that kind of loss again.

“I will wait,” You said. “I will wait as long as you need. I just need to know that you’re in this too.”

Kaz meets your eyes. His are glassy as he holds the necklace tightly in his hands, running his gloved fingers over the diamonds.

He could lose you.

And that is far worse than not having you at all.

He slowly peels his gloves off. His movements are slow and deliberate, taking his time. When they’re off, he grabs the necklace and stands up.

You hold your breath as he stands behind you, brushing your hair out of the way. His fingers just barely dance across your skin, but they’re there.

He clasps the necklace, and you turn around to face him.

“Kaz?” You question.

“I need you too, (Y/N).”

“I’m not leaving," You assure him.

“Good. We’re in this.”

“We’re in this.”

#IM OBSESSED WITH HIM #I love kaz #I am speedrunning this requests #hehe #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker one shot #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker #grishaverse #six of crows imagine #six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone #s&b

1K notes · View notes

lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 5: Louie [ao3 link]

When she’d gotten the call a few weeks earlier, Goldie initially thought it was from Scrooge. She gave her cell phone number out to a very small number of people, after all, and Scrooge’s home line had its own customized ringtone so she always knew it was him.

Instead, it was one of his kids. Well, one of Della’s kids, she was pretty sure. He introduced himself as Louie and she did a quick search online to see what he looked like - the only run-in she’d had with the kids so far they’d all been dressed the same so even if she had been paying attention, she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.

Her first instinct had been to tell him no and to move on with her life. She was a busy woman and she had other things to do. But there was a little part of her that was mad at Scrooge for never calling her about the note she’d left in his hat. There was no way he hadn’t seen it and she left him a treasure she didn’t have to because she wanted to go on an adventure with him again. But no. He didn’t call and it’d been almost a year. So she said yes to mentoring because she knew it’d piss him off and there was no greater joy in her life.

Or she’d thought there was no greater joy. But the feeling of someone coming back for her - coming to save her life despite how she treated them - it was something else entirely. Scrooge had done it once or twice in the past, but not recently and not happily. She couldn’t even remember the last time someone had come back for her and her feelings about it were a bit overwhelming so she didn’t even give the kid another glance before bolting out the door.

It’d been a few days since that party and Goldie was enjoying being several hundred million dollars richer. It wasn’t like Sharpie needed the money - he had Scrooge’s inheritance to look forward to (though if Scrooge never planned to retire or die, maybe not? She didn’t like to think about it too much).

She was laying in bed in a familiar hotel in the outskirts of Seattle when she pulled out her wallet to stare at the photos again. The last few days, she’d spent a ridiculous amount of time just staring and thinking and not doing or saying anything. She felt pathetic.

But looking at the kid’s goofy little smile and thinking back to when he helped her effectively pull off their improvised scheme warmed her heart. She’d never felt this way about a member of Scrooge’s family before. Della and Donald had treated her like an aunt on occasion (usually just as a way to get on her nerves), but Goldie never saw either of them as a true schemer like herself. Donald didn’t have any interest in money or treasure and Della idolized her uncle too much to think for herself.

But Louie was different and Goldie could see that. Just the fact that he’d reached out to her after hearing the story of Gumption (which, from what he told her, had a lot of inaccuracies to it. Scrooge loved to exaggerate or conveniently forget details when he told stories of their past) made her want to see what he had to offer.

Initially, her plan had been to rob the kid and take something small of Scrooge’s - small enough to carry without much effort, but big enough to piss him off - then Scrooge would angrily chase her down and they could argue and she’d tease him and it would’ve been a nice little time. Their Golden Lagoon adventure was nice but Glomgold had ruined a lot of the fun she’d planned so it’d have been nice to get back to basics.

Instead she got weird, mixed up feelings about this kid who reminded her of herself and Scrooge and Donald all combined into one tiny package. She did not want to get attached to anyone in Scrooge’s family. The only reason their relationship worked was because she kept him on edge and interested by keeping him at arm’s length. Getting close to his family was not arm’s length. It was too much. She’d have to push Sharpie away the same way she did with Donald and Della and that was that.

She glanced over at the photo she had of Scrooge in Dawson and felt her heart skip a beat. She loved this picture. She loved thinking about the time they spent together back then, even if he’d broken her heart by the end of it. It didn’t matter anymore. She’d give almost anything to be young with him again - maybe even get a fresh start.

Goldie let out a loud sigh and tossed the wallet across the room - she watched it soar and land gracefully on top of her bags. Her bags were stuffed with gold and jewels and treasures from that crazy little birthday party and she hadn’t had the chance to stop in Dawson and drop it all off at the closest thing she had to a home.

Peeking out of one of her bags was the idol she’d stolen from Sharpie’s room before their adventure began. She stared at it and wondered what kind of significance it held for him. She wasn’t going to give it back, of course, because he needed to be taught a lesson about trusting con artists. But also a little part of her thought about maybe giving it back depending on how important it was to him.

She rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. Kids made people soft. Scrooge was so different than he was just forty years earlier and sometimes she didn’t know what to make of it. If thirty-year-old Goldie knew he could be this way, maybe she would’ve approached their relationship differently. But he always spoke so harshly about children and family and she never could’ve imagined him changing his mind.

Her thoughts were cut off by a buzz and a ding! from her phone and Goldie huffed as she reached into her pocket to grab it. She hoped desperately that it wasn’t from someone work-related (though, really, who else could it be?). She wasn’t in the mood to think about hotel management. She’d rather drink wine and soak in the bathtub and think about nothing.

She glanced at her phone and saw a text message waiting for her. It was a short message from an unknown number that just said:

“Do you know how to text?”

Goldie blinked a few times at it and wondered briefly if this was a wrong number. Then she glanced at the area code and realized it was coming from Duckburg. She had a pretty good idea who it was and her heart skipped another beat.

There was an unspoken rule between her and Scrooge. He never reached out to her first (except for two very unique occasions). She was always the one to contact him. But Louie wasn’t Scrooge and Louie followed his own rules, apparently.

She took a moment to think before typing a short response. “Yes, I do.”

“Cool.”

She wondered if the conversation was over until she suddenly received an influx of emojis. Goldie raised an eyebrow at the group of ducks and dollar signs and bags of money and angry faces, not really sure what to make of it.

“What’s all this supposed to mean?”

She watched as her phone said he was typing and then not typing and then typing again.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Goldie let out a breathy laugh and rolled her eyes. He really was related to Scrooge.

“What’d you do with all the money? Put it in your very own Money Bin?”

She rolled onto her side and thought about whether or not to answer him. Though she couldn’t hide everything from Scrooge over the years, she did a good job of keeping most of her life hidden away from his wandering eyes. Though Louie was definitely great at keeping things from the adults in his life, he was still just a kid and she didn’t want anything slipping out accidentally.

“Not sure that’s any of your business.”

He started typing and then stopped again. Goldie stared at her phone for a full minute without getting a response before realizing she may have hurt his feelings a bit with that one. She groaned and dropped her phone back on the mattress. She didn’t want to care about something so trivial, but…

She sighed deeply and grabbed the phone again, quickly typing another message without giving it much thought.

“I have several places to put my earnings. A lot of different projects and business ventures. And the rest goes into savings.”

Goldie huffed at herself and put the phone down again. She’d managed to avoid this kind of thing easily with Donald or Della - keeping herself at a distance and never spending significant time with either of them without Scrooge. But just one afternoon alone with Sharpie and she felt an urge to protect his stupid little feelings and his stupid little face. There was something about seeing fear in those big ol’ eyes that made her heart beat faster.

Her phone beeped again and she hesitated for just a moment before grabbing it.

“What kind of business ventures? If you’re looking for investment opportunities, I could give you a pitch that even Scrooge McDuck hasn’t seen.”

She smiled and thought back to the posters on the wall of the boys’ bedroom; several of them were very juvenile business ideas that would never take off in the real world. But she could appreciate his sense of inventiveness.

“Even if you got Scrooge to sit for a meeting, I doubt he’d invest more than a dollar into anything.”

“You overestimate him! He wouldn’t give me more than a quarter.” Followed by several angry and sad and money bag emojis.

Goldie laughed and sat up in the hotel bed, feeling a little more like herself after having an opportunity to make fun of her...ex. Or whatever they were. It didn’t matter. She was having fun.

“Keep trying. I’m sure you’ll wear him down.”

He sent another group of emojis and Goldie decided that was the end of that. She put her phone back on the bed, screen side down, and turned to look over at the idol again. She definitely wouldn’t be giving it back.

Louie stared at his phone for a few minutes, wondering if he’d be getting another message. To be perfectly honest, he hadn’t expected any response at all, so the past ten minutes were giving him a lot of confusing, conflicting feelings.

He liked Goldie. She stole all his money and kind of broke his heart a little, but before that he’d started to think of her as family. It was hard to not think of her that way when she risked her life for his. But still...the money.

There was definitely no plan to contact her again when she left without even saying goodbye. Louie was frustrated and sad and annoyed and kept thinking about how he’d gotten too close. He knew when he first contacted her that this was a business decision - a con artist was not someone to befriend or trust or depend on. But in just a few short hours he felt a pull to her that he couldn’t really explain.

And he couldn’t stop thinking back to the way he’d felt when she suggested they work together again. He knew liars and thieves and knew she wasn’t an honest person, but he really felt like she meant it. And despite what happened afterwards and how angry he was for the next few days, Louie couldn’t help but wonder what that really meant for them.

She and Uncle Scrooge clearly weren’t getting back together anytime soon. And Goldie was a world traveler - always off on some new adventure somewhere far away. Even if they did work together again, it could be years away. Uncle Scrooge said sometimes he went years without hearing from her.

Louie didn’t want to wait years. Goldie was the first person in a long time to appreciate his scheming mind without a hint of irony. It was refreshing and it made him feel better about the fact that she’d completely robbed him.

So he texted her. It was a long shot considering her age and the fact that she fumbled with her smartphone like someone who was still struggling to figure out how touch screens work, but Louie figured it was worth the attempt.

He looked at their messages again and smiled. Texting with a weird old thief lady was not exactly on his list of things he expected to be doing at the tender age of eleven, but it was kind of fun. She could tell him embarrassing stories about Uncle Scrooge or Uncle Donald or his mom. Maybe she knew other people in the family she could talk about.

With only a moment’s hesitation, Louie pressed his thumb down on her phone number and went to add a contact name. He stared at the screen for a few seconds before happily typing Aunt Goldie and hitting save.

He had to admit, it just kind of felt right.

#ducktales #louie duck #goldie o'gilt #scrooge mcduck #scheme team #fic #fics #not your aunt #this one took forever cuz im not rly happy with it but im excited to do the next one

60 notes · View notes

calif0rnia-lovers · 3 years

Text

four letters.

a/n: 1/10 of stories I was initially hesitant to post. not glorifying adultery, just an idea i got from this song.

part: 1/3

pairing: miguel galindo x elena

warnings: themes of adultery. not really smut in this part, it's literally a paragraph?

summary: they met when Miguel's family would visit during the summer. each summer vacation was a mixture of stolen glances and moments. time has passed, and summers are no longer theirs. every time he leaves Mexico, he leaves her with a promise. one day he'll be hers--and only hers. years in and Elena must decide if what she feels for Miguel is love, or something else.

words: 1.9k

Diamonds.

Universally, they represent love. A promise of commitment. A priceless gift you give the woman who has your heart. A gift with the power to project the facade of happiness. A gift with the power to distract even the most intelligent woman from her man’s past mistakes.

And for that reason, diamonds are Miguel’s favorite gift to give.

Each call to his jeweler inspires a substantial chunk of change and a customized gift. The said gift is invariably dressed in a black velvet box, sealed with a golden ribbon. Delivered to an office in Sinaloa on the same day, always two months apart.

Always accompanied with a neatly penned note. A date, time, and location. Short and to the point, signed M.

It arrives two days before him. The need to reschedule, or the mention of a conflict in scheduling, never allowed.

Each delivery carries the same false promise.

One day, my love.

This time, his promise comes in emerald green.

Pressed and shaped into glimmering flowers to accent the black dress she wears. Although the dress itself is a beautiful work of art, fitting as though it was designed just for her, no one is focused on Elena’s dress.

Their focus is on the dollar sign hanging from her neck. It’s impossible to miss. Only so many people, in Sinaloa, could afford such a beautiful piece. With her long dark locks pinned, to rest at the top of her head, Miguel’s necklace is on full display. Paired with her beauty, it is distracting. So distracting, no one notices the matching hairpins.

"You look beautiful as always."

Her heart flutters. A soft smile brightens Elena's face as a familiar warmth trickles down her spine.

A soft kiss ghosts the curve of her shoulder, Miguel's smile coming to rest against her cheek.

“I see my gift suits you well.” His touch lingers against the curve of her neck, pausing to trace the petal of an emerald flower. The smile on his lips is one of admiration, his playful eyes briefly lifting to meet hers. “It seems you’ve attracted the attention of the entire restaurant.”

“Don’t sound too surprised, Mr. Galindo.” Elena’s eyes roll, the grin on her lips causing his to grow. “You’re acting as if this is something new. People always stare at me.”

“Trust me, I know. It's not something I particularly enjoy."

“Too bad,” Elena smiles, lifting her glass of wine to her lips. “I like it when people stare at me, and you are late. You’re lucky I didn’t leave with someone else.”

“Nicholas…” Miguel reads from the baby pink card.

The question in his tone is barely audible, bogged down by something Elena has never heard--at least not from Miguel. It is hard for her to pinpoint. But as she pushes her heels aside, she’s almost certain it is jealousy.

She rounds the corner to find Miguel standing in the center of her kitchen. He has stripped himself of his jacket the white fabric draped carelessly across the back of a nearby stool. His back remains to her as she crosses the room. He does not turn to acknowledge her, even after she drops her purse to the countertop before him.

His focus is no longer on the message.

Ellie. Congratulations on the promotion. We should celebrate. Until then--enjoy your favorites. x Nicholas.

His attention has shifted to the vase of lilies and peonies. A mixture of pinks, white, and corals. A fresh take from the white roses Miguel typically sends.

"These are your favorites?" His thumb gently rubs the petal of a lily. His brow arches as he glances in her direction. "How come you never said anything?"

Elena's eyes lift from the hairpins resting in her palm. Shaking her curls loose, she lets off a tiny shrug.

"The roses are always very beautiful, Miguel." Standing on her toes, she places a kiss against his cheek. "I really appreciate them. You know that."

The words of reassurance are not enough to divert his attention. The soft kiss she leaves against his cheek earns her a glance.

“I didn’t realize you were...seeing anyone.”

“You mean, aside from the man who only comes to see me when his schedule allows?” The slight roll of her eyes tightens Miguel’s jaw. “Because that would be ridiculous.”

She ignores his expression, reaching around him to retrieve the card. She returns it to its original resting place.

“It’s not ridiculous,” Miguel states this as if it is a fact. “Not when you spent the last hour talking about us over dinner--.”

She can’t stop it. The laugh she releases silences Miguel. It is not a sound typically directed at him. It is a sound that makes his skin crawl, eats at him deep inside. Sparks the need to prove himself. It's a feeling he's hated his entire life.

“I’m sorry,” Elena clears her throat, the smile remaining on her lips as he focuses his scowl in the direction of the lilies. “It’s just. I thought we didn’t do that.”

Miguel chooses not to respond. Instead, he focuses on undoing his cuffs. He knows she’s right.

They don’t do that--share personal details about their lives. Or probe for them. In fact, at this point, they’re typically already undressed--the idea of talking about their lives the last thing on their minds.

Elena watches Miguel’s gaze return to the bouquet. They study the flowers before passing over the darkened living room. Searching for other intrusions, signs of another man, that were not here during his last appearance.

“Come on, Mikey,” she sings softly. The warmth of her palms brings his gaze to hers. “Did you come all the way here just to ruin my weekend?”

The corner of his lips turns up. His gaze drops, following the path of Elena’s touch. It drifts down the chest of his shirt pausing to undo the buttons.

“Because I thought you came because you missed me. Isn't that what you said on the phone?” Her lips press against the curve of his jaw, her smile growing as his lips instinctively move to meet hers. She giggles, turning to grind back against him. “So, show me how much you missed me.”

His response is immediate, his hands pressing into the curves of her hips. The weight of his chest pressing her body forward and towards the closest stable surface. With her heels abandoned, her weight shifts to her toes. She stumbles forward in a clumsy attempt at maintaining her balance. She gasps as the chill of the marble countertop presses against the heat of her cheek. A perfect contrast to the hot and heavy hands pushing up the skirt of her dress. Their first exchange is always the same. Quick and messy. Both focused solely on satisfying the need that has built up in their time apart. The note is fresh in his mind and fuels his movements. Bruise his fingers into her hips, leaves her breathless as he sets a pace that nearly splits her open.

Elena can feel the warmth of her cheeks slowly creeping throughout her body as she concentrates on the task at hand.

"What?"

Instead of lifting her gaze, to meet the ones watching her every move, she tries for a second time to tug down the zipper of her dress.

Miguel doesn't speak. Instead, he motions for her to turn around.

The silence, which falls over the darkened kitchen, is a part of the routine. One that lasts long enough for their pulses to taper off. For their highs to drift away, opening their minds to reality.

Elena focuses on the glow of moonlight on the marble before her.

She breaks the silence, her words soft as she tries to press out any sign of hopefulness in her voice. Sounding eager about any aspect of their arrangement has never turned out good.

"Are you leaving tonight?"

The room is quiet, Miguel's fingers pausing for the briefest of seconds. He shifts forward, ducking down to allow his lips to press a soft kiss between her shoulder blades.

"Not tonight." A soft smile finds his lips as she glances over her shoulder at him. "It's your birthday tomorrow. I wouldn't miss it."

She can't suppress the smile that spreads across her face as his lips press against her cheek. His eyes drop to the watch on his wrist as she turns to face him.

“Looks like we got two hours before it's officially Saturday," he chuckles as her arms wrap around his neck.

"Is it too early to start with my birthday demands?"

His response is a soft kiss, his hand drifting to the nape of her neck. It's a kiss that melts her body into his, knotting his fingers in the softness of her hair. By the time he’s pulled away, her pulse is unsteady. His lips brush against her forehead, his touch lingering against her skin before he takes a step back.

"I'll start the bath." He grins, his eyes drifting towards the wine across the room. “Get a bottle or two, and join me.”

“I’ll be up in a minute.”

Her eyes close as his lips press against her forehead. They remain closed as she listens to his footsteps track through the quiet house. They soon fade out as he reaches the top of the steps, and Elena allows her eyes to open.

Her breath catches, her teeth tugging at her lip as her fingers gently brush against her neck. She finds herself standing before the mirror at the base of her steps. Her eyes pass over her reflection, lingering on her disheveled curls, the flush of her cheeks, her swollen lips, the hazy green glow from the moonlit flowers against her skin.

Her fingers comb through her hair, gathering the locks and pushing them over her shoulder. Unlatching the clasp, she carefully places the necklace on the countertop. She leaves it alongside the emerald hairpins. The breath she takes is deep. Her lungs hold the air until they begin to burn. With the weight of her necklace gone her shoulders fall, feeling weightless, as she exhales.

The excitement of his admission bubbles in her stomach, her hands clasping together as she forces herself to take a second breath. This time, as she excels, the excitement slowly deflates.

Getting your hopes up is foolish, Ellie.

Elena turns and crosses the dark kitchen in search of wine.

She retrieves two wine glasses from the cabinet. She pauses, elbows resting against the countertop, as she studies the bottles of wine on display against the cream backsplash. Her fingers stop short of her bottle of choice as a faint jingle fills the quiet room.

Abandoning the task at hand, Elena naturally retrieves her purse. The rose gold iPhone she finds inside is silent, screen pitch black. The ringing is louder now. Her head turns, her brow furrowing, as she looks towards the white jacket draped across the back of the stool to her right.

There is a brief moment of hesitation. A voice of warning--telling her "leave it"--in the back of Elena's mind as she reaches for the jacket.

A silence falls over the room--a blessing in disguise. It is her out. The reminder for Elena to adhere to the promise she made herself the moment she met Miguel Galindo.

Never snoop--never bite off more than you can chew.

What is the saying about curiosity?

With the touch of her finger, the screen illuminates. It reveals a missed call from Emily Galindo. It is not the name that gives Elena pause, but the photo behind the notification. A photo Elena has never seen or anticipated. A photo that breaks the fantasy Elena has spent the evening willingly participating in.

The fantasy typically lasts a few more hours. The one where they both pretend Miguel doesn’t have another life he has built outside of her. A life Miguel's never provided insight into. A life Elena has never asked--nor searched--for details on.

Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t have been blindsided by what all his life across the border entails.

The round brown eyes staring back at her own are innocent. Accompanied by a head of dark curls and soft cheeks. The blue top the infant wears matches Miguel’s jacket.

Miguel wears a smile--a distinct smile. The smile wore by every proud father.

One day, my love. I just need time.

The soft plea echos through her mind. It is the same he has whispered each departure when she has asked him to stay--even if just for an hour longer.

Time.

It’s all he’s ever needed. And all she has given.

The arrival of a message paints Elena’s kitchen in a blue glow--breaking her haze of confusion surrounding this new revelation.

Hope you made it safely. Call me when you’re settled. Love you.

Elena's stomach tightens as she rereads the message.

She jumps, her body scrambling to catch the phone as it nearly slips through her fingers. Miguel’s voice drifts down the stairs.

“Need help picking the wine?”

“No--it’s okay. I'm coming.” Elena shakes her head, returning the phone to its original place. She replaces the phone with two wine glasses, mindlessly grabbing the closest bottle.

mayans tags:

@appropriate-writers-name @rosieposie0624 @jjwriter23 @briskywalker @princesspeachypeach @cind-in-real-life @rocketqueen @brownsugarcoffy @chibsytelford @maybeisthemoon @jatriciaaa @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @chellybear98 @silverstarsandsuns @henrycavill19 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @mayansxlover @holl2712 @pedropcl

@inyourbackpocketisbutterflies @cocotheclown @cant-decide-at-this-moment @helli4nthus @megapeacelovemusic-blog @est1887 @demonquartz @bucky-iss-bae @thesandbeneathmytoes @sesamepancakes @shawty-fenty @peoniarose @starrynite7114 @agoldin @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @wiccanmetallicrose

#got a covid vaccine yesterday and woke up feeling like i was hit by a truck #super groggy atm #let me know what you think of this so far?#miguel galindo #miguel galindo imagine #mayans mc imagine

80 notes · View notes

airi-p4 · 3 years

Text

Stealing hearts

I wrote this for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers LBSC Sprint challenge - Meet cute week event. Vipermouse enemies to lovers, because, honestly, who doesn’t love those?

Prompt: They meet while trying to steal the same thing

Rules: write in 3 sprints of 15 minutes each + 24 hours to edit. (I used 4 sprints, but whatever ^^;)

Thank you @livrever for checking it for me 💙

AO3

_____________________________

The night had fallen. The street lights illuminated the streets, the whole city under the soft moonlight. Hiding in the shadows of the night, Multimouse jumped to the roof she targeted and observed through the glass window.

There it was: the Ladybug miraculous- her target.

Stealthily, she snuck close enough to detect the security cameras and the museum guards. They were not going to make it easy for her to steal the jewels, were they? Multimouse smirked. That wasn’t something that could stop her, anyway. She called for her power: “Multitude” and a group of tiny multimice appeared in her place. All of them knew how to proceed. In just two minutes, they got down the half-opened trapdoor, avoided all the security systems, took the magical earrings, and returned to the roof.

Mission complete.

Once outside, and just before the alarm buzzed, she recovered her multimouse appearance and smiled satisfied at her achievement: the powerful jewel safe in her hands. The next part should be easy, she had thought, but she suddenly found herself trapped with a hand covering her mouth and an unknown arm immobilizing her. She immediately fought it, without success.

“Shhh…” A husky low voice said close to her ears. “Keep quiet if you don’t want to be found out again”

The voice gave her shivers. ‘ Who?'

“In 2 seconds a guard is going to come through the door, but he’ll run the other way. We’ll escape then”

Multimouse’s mask wrinkled at her frown, showing doubt. She worked alone. She should trust no one. Everyone else was an enemy.

“Now. Count to 3 and jump to that roof. Trust me” the stranger's voice continued.

Multimouse saw the guard run the other way, just like the mysterious voice’s owner foretold. She tried to escape that moment, but, as if he had seen through her, the stranger caught her in his big arms and carried her little body to the next roof and to an empty room under the stairs, locking the door behind him.

The moonlight that filtered in through the small upper window of the room let Multimouse see the stranger for the first time. His yellow eyes glowed in the dark, along with his green hair, the same color as his tight, snake themed suit.

“Viperion” she mumbled, and his yellow eyes smiled at her under his mask. “You’re Viperion, aren’t you? Why are you here?”

“For the same reason as you, Multimouse” He smiled at her, amused, showing how the earrings she had just stolen were now in his hands.

“Hey! Give them back! I stole them first!” Multimouse attempted to fight, but Viperion skillfully dodged her surprise attack and immobilized her using her suit's tail- a jumping rope. All her attempts to free herself were useless, but she didn’t stop trying. “Let me go! I need them," she protested.

"Shhh… You wouldn't want to be discovered, would you?"

He had a point, despite her disgust. Multimouse felt like prey under his amused glare. She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t deny something about all this was thrilling. She had to take the earrings back and escape. She needed a plan. She was good with plans. What were even Viperion’s powers? He was barely in the news: a complete mystery- just a rumour. How did he know about the guards? About her attacks? It almost seemed as if he had known what was going to happen beforehand...

Time. His power is related to time, she figured out.

A sudden fleeting flashback in her mind distracted her. By instinct, her hand stopped trying to free herself from his grip and held onto the snake bracelet on his wrist instead. She didn’t even know why she did it, but he froze at this act. His body stiffened and his smile disappeared. Didn’t he foresee this?

“Let go, Mouse” Viperion commanded in a serious tone.

“Not until you give back what’s mine”

“It’s not yours, you just stole it”

“Which makes it mine now! Don’t think I’ll allow you to reverse time again”

“You figured out my powers? Not bad, Mouse”

“I’m not stupid. You knew about the guards. You lead me to this room knowing it was empty, despite another one being closer. You knew exactly where I would call my power back. But despite stealing my earrings, you haven’t run away yet. Why? What are you trying to do?” “You said you wanted the jewels, but that’s not true. What do you want?”

“I want to become your ally. Would you believe that?”

“Of course not! Why would you want that? We don’t know each other!”

“You don’t. And I certainly didn’t a few loops ago. I know you now. You’re even more beautiful under the mask” he fondly stated.

Why was she even blushing? Sure, he was hot but- Why were her lips tingling? Could it be?

“You kissed me...”

He seemed surprised at her question. Was she supposed to forget about everything that happened in previous loops? Probably. Only he could know how many times the scene repeated.

“Technically,” he tilted his head to the side, “you kissed me. To distract me, you know? It worked quite well, to be honest” he winked.

Multimouse was surprised. Would she really do that in despair? Should she try it again, then...? She couldn’t deny his lips were… tempting. He was HOT. Too HOT she finally noticed, all flustered.

What was she even thinking? He was the enemy! Why would he want her to become his ally anyway?

She shoved her hormones away. “You haven’t answered me yet. You already have the Miraculous. What else do you want!? Why haven’t you escaped yet?”

“I do have the Miraculous, but now? I’m more greedy than that. There’s something else I want” he showed a knowing smile, that thrilled her.

“What is it...?” she finally asked, after hesitating for a few seconds.

Viperion took a step closer to Multimouse and made sure her eyes kept locked in his own. “Go to a date with me”

“A… date…?” she blinked twice in disbelief. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No, I’m not. I’m serious” She frowned her eyebrows, not trusting him, but he continued. “You can’t remember, but I do. During the first loops, you kicked my ass. Who would have thought you were so strong despite your tiny body? When I could finally immobilize you, you tricked me and distracted me with a kiss. Not that I can complain, though. It was a very effective move. You’re a good kisser, you should be proud of that”

Multimouse face flustered red and his smile widened in amusement. “I- What happened next?”

“The next few loops I finally immobilized and stole the jewel from you. I thought you were tricking me again when you started to cry, but you weren’t. You were honest and your heart cried out for help. I listened to your reasons and I understood why you steal and why this Miraculous was so important to you” he explained.

“Then you know why I need it and why I can’t give it to you!” she yelled, avoiding those eyes that were giving her butterflies in her insides.

“I do.” He nodded. “That’s why I gave you the jewel back the next loop. And you smiled gratefully- the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. And at that moment, your transformation dropped and I was doomed”

“What- do you mean...?” she asked, feeling even weaker under his hungry stare. She gulped, both in fear and excitement. Her heart rate intensified, making her cheeks even redder. It only worsened when he approached his face closer to hers even more.

“That now I can’t stop going back in loops until I find a way to convince you to meet me again. I want you to rely on me” he confessed. “I want to help you find another way to fix everything. Revenge is never the answer”

“Huh...?” Multimouse sensed honesty in his words. But she was a loner. She had a mission- She had to-

“Is that too much to ask?” He continued, distracting her from her thoughts. “I can’t let you go knowing you’re going to be hurt or even disappear once you use the ultimate power of the Miraculous. Besides: you stole my heart- isn’t it fair I get to keep the earrings?”

Multimouse short-circuited. Was he serious? He sounded serious. Was it even possible for someone so HOT to be interested in her? Why was her heart beating so fast? Was she… happy? Pleased? Excited?

“Mouse,” he called again, and her body reacted to his voice. “Do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow? I’ll prove you I’m reliable”

“Are you serious…? Are you trying to trick me?” She asked. She was scared of betrayal, but couldn’t help it but be hopeful as well.

“I’m totally serious” He said, and her heart throbbed at his piercing eyes.

“How can I assure you’ll be there? And how will I recognize you under your mask?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Maybe…? If you answer me first”

“Here,” Viperion let go of the tail that kept her trapped, but she kept her hand on his bracelet. With his hand now free, he took her free hand on his and opened it, placing one of the earrings on it. Multimouse’s eyes opened wide in surprise, and only after closing her fist in a protective manner, she let go of his wrist. “You keep one, I keep the other. Is this enough assurance?”

Multimouse nodded. “How will I recognize you?”

The snake’s hero smiled widened at her question, his eyes glowing in the dark as he moved to unlock the door. “Don’t worry, Mouse- I will” He winked before he fled and her legs turned jelly, making her fall on her knees.

She had a date with Viperion!?

____________________________________________________

Marinette was nervous. More than nervous. She had agreed to go on a date with a stranger. Viperion. Was she going to be ok? Her heart beated in anticipation. What would he look like under the mask? What if he had tricked her? She had to stay in alert mode, she had ignore the image of that stupid tight suit of her mind- of those yellow eyes and sexy fangs- Did she just say sexy? No, Marinette! Stop! He’s HOT but still the enemy.

Deep in her inner thoughts, she didn’t notice how a hooded figure approached her until she noticed a pair of colorful sneakers and black denim jeans in front of her. She gulped, nervously, and raised her head to look at her date’s face. She was surprised when she didn't see green or yellow as she expected- but blue instead. Beautiful sky blue that made her heart flutter. And if she had any doubt of his identity, the Miraculous on his ear made it clear.

She had thought Viperion was hot in his suit but without it? Damn It. She was screwed.

"Hello, Mouse. I’m happy to see you” He greeted with a wide, loving smile. “How should I call you?”

“Ma-Ma-Marinette" Her face burned even more in embarrassment.

“Marinette” he repeated, with a smile on his face. “That’s a beautiful name. I’m Luka” He ducked to reach her eye level, and her gaze moved from the floor to his hypnotizing blue eyes. "Are you still wary of me? Where did your confidence from last night go, Ma-Ma-Marinette?" he teased.

“So unfair…” she mumbled, and it took him by surprise when she stepped on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. She kissed him roughly, and he soon led all his attention to her. Her hands moved to his hair, and his hands rested on her waist, pulling her closer. A long passionate kiss.

Marinette broke the kiss when she felt the need for air, and Luka had a cute lovestruck grin. They stood in front of each other for a minute, awkwardly, trying to come with something to say, until Marinette called his name.

“Luka. I guess we’re even now” she said, showing the two Ladybug earrings on her hand. Luka gasped.

“You, little thief! I shouldn’t have told you how to distract me. I’m so stupid!” he regretted, fearing a farewell. But she didn’t move. “Wait- Why are you not running away now that you have what you wanted?”

Marinette smiled and sticked her tongue out at him, playfully. “You said it before: you stole my heart, so isn’t it fair that I keep the earrings? Who's the thief now, huh?”

Luka laughed and she smiled fondly at him. “And now?” he asked, hopefully.

Marinette grinned, returning one of the earrings to his hand and holding the other one tightly. “Now we have a date and a lot of kisses to share"

“I like this plan” Luka answered, leaning in to kiss her once again.

THE END

#endgame lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette fic #my fic #lbsc sprint fic #lbsc sprint fic challenge #airip4 #airipyon #vipermouse fic #I'm not very good with sprints but I couldn't resist #I hope it makes sense?

44 notes · View notes

whimsicaldragonette · 3 years

Text

ARC Review: Little Thieves by Margaret Owen

Preorder

Add to Goodreads

Publishing Oct 19, 2021

Synopsis:

Once upon a time, there was a horrible girl... Vanja Schmidt knows that no gift is freely given, not even a mother's love--and she's on the hook for one hell of a debt. Vanja, the adopted goddaughter of Death and Fortune, was Princess Gisele's dutiful servant up until a year ago. That was when Vanja's otherworldly mothers demanded a terrible price for their care, and Vanja decided to steal her future back... by stealing Gisele's life for herself. The real Gisele is left a penniless nobody while Vanja uses an enchanted string of pearls to take her place. Now, Vanja leads a lonely but lucrative double life as princess and jewel thief, charming nobility while emptying their coffers to fund her great escape. Then, one heist away from freedom, Vanja crosses the wrong god and is cursed to an untimely end: turning into jewels, stone by stone, for her greed. Vanja has just two weeks to figure out how to break her curse and make her getaway. And with a feral guardian half-god, Gisele's sinister fiancé, and an overeager junior detective on Vanja's tail, she'll have to pull the biggest grift yet to save her own life. Margaret Owen, author of The Merciful Crow series, crafts a delightfully irreverent retelling of "The Goose Girl" about stolen lives, thorny truths, and the wicked girls at the heart of both.

My Review:

★★★★★

This book was SO GOOD. I love how it took a somewhat-obscure-but-still-familiar fairytale plot and turned it on its head so many times it was hardly recognizable by the end. Everything about it was so unique and fascinating, and I absolutely adored the characters. Vanja is a force to be reckoned with, and her dry commentary was a joy to read. I highlighted SO MANY passages, especially the ones that contrasted the vaguely medieval Germany fairytale setting with some very modern phrasings. Emeric, too, was a delight, especially when he and Vanja forgot to be annoyed at each other while sharing the joy of a chase/investigation and their own cleverness. Ragne was wonderfully baffled at human customs, frequently disdaining them, and Gisele grew on me by the end, and I hope we get many more of this foursome's adventures. I loved the taste we get of Death and Fortune and I hope they, too, will show up in future adventures. The villains (minor and major) were quite dastardly and it was so nice to see them get their comeuppance.

The writing is utterly gorgeous, with plenty of Margaret Owen's signature unexpected phrases that are devastating in their simple truth. This is a story I know I will be revisiting. *Thanks to NetGalley and Hodder & Stoughton for providing an e-arc for review.

Favorite Quotes

The piper she's interrupting looks both delighted and furious, and I have to agree with her earlier assessment: Her archnemesis is unreasonably handsome.

---

I am not going to smile at him. I refuse on principle. (The principle is: I've already met my emotional availability quota for the day.)

---

"Sorry--sorry--I'm not looking--" Emeric starts to back out of the room, spots the nachtmahr, and proceeds to visibly cycle through both fight and flight instincts at a speed heretofore unobserved in the common man.

---

(It might not surprise you to know the two most popular urns are copper and coal. Maybe that says something about human nature, but I also think it says something about personal budgeting. Buying good luck? In this economy?)

---

I want him to stay like this. Close to me, touching my face feather-light, like I am something precious, I am worth taking care. Like I deserve to live without wounds, not despite them. I want this moment trapped in amber, so I can hold it tight when I need it most.

---

There's a shimmering, intoxicating kind of thrill to it, this game between us. I am his puzzle and he is my lock, and it's an arms race to solve the other first. But somewhere in all the knots and twists and trapdoors, he turned to an arsonist, leaving his embers in my veins, smoke on my tongue, a fire burning softly in my heart. And it will not die easy.

---

I cannot believe I'm attracted to a human civics primer.

---

You would think the most formidable thing in Castle Reigenbach wouldn't be a reedy law library incarnate, but in that moment -- he is, because I believe him.

---

It's not a challenge; it's a quiet, immovable fact. For all my schemes and facades and artifice, I am not prepared in the slightest for the simple, devastating intimacy of being believed.

---

I don't know what's worse: that he's slipped into my heart like a knife, or that I like the feel of him there.

---

I'm at a loss for words. Probably because I'm having an extraordinary and overwhelming number of feelings right now, and chief among them is outrage that I am this attracted to a personified pocket ledger.

---

The oak door gives a surly rattle, creaking open with absolutely no regard for the heart attack I'm having. "You're coming in, ja?" croaks the withered turnip of a doorman, before muttering something about frisky teenagers.

---

His voice echoes over the Gottenmarkt, which looks like someone sucker punched the treasury, and it spewed all over the plaza. (Adalbrecht. Adalbrecht was the one doing the punching.)

---

Above her floats Truth, who has taken the form of a wheel of eyes today. (As one does.)

---

Justice looks down, and while a skull can't frown, she is absolutely nailing the same feeling.

---

(This is where I have to admit I'm impressed he's coming up with the rhymes on the fly. Not bad for, you know, a horse.)

#Margaret Owen #Little Thieves #YA Fantasy #netgalley #arc review #shilo reads

15 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Of Jewels and Gems (B.B)

Type: One-shot, Reader-insert Word count: 1740

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Medieval AU with thief!Bucky and princess!reader.

Based on a prompt: ‘I snuck in the castle to steal the royal crown but I’m stealing you instead au’.

Warnings: briefest violence, mention of anxiety if you squint

A/N: Prompt is a courtesy of @caplanbuckybarnes ‘s challenge! Thank you for gathering so many wonderful ideas! Also, I did not follow the prompt entirely, but I’m sorta hoping that it’s okay 😇

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Your heels were clapping softly as you wished to blend with the shadows of the castle’s corridors, sweetly lit by many torches, casting a lovely game of shadows on the walls and warming the otherwise cold space. Most importantly though, the space the lit up was empty – and you allowed yourself to inhale and exhale in relief, tension leaving your shoulders at last.

Your sky-blue dress, threaded by silvery white as if to compliment the feast, the celebration of winter solstice, brushed the hard-stony floor with every step, a rustle tender like a breath, remaining elegant even as the door to the royal ballroom closed after you.

You had sought a moment of refuge from the attentive if not downright prying gazes, which never seem to leave your person as if expecting to find a flaw – a living proof of the princess not belonging on the throne, on her rightful place to take in only a few years’ time.

Not one guard dared to follow you; whether the expression on your face was to blame or your status of Crown Princess, you couldn’t find yourself to care, simply grateful to Gods for such blessing. Endlessly grateful for a brief moments of serenity and solitude with nothing but a literal whisper of ‘Thank Gods’ on your lips.

Should you take Gods’ name in vain, Queen’s voice echoed in your mind, they will punish you for your insolence.

And as mother had told you on numerous occasions, they truly did, the punishment appearing in front of your eyes as if from thin air.

With a muffled thud of expensive boots, a dark, strong male figure, clothed in an attire barely suitable for such memorable day, emerged from the shadows four feet from you, almost as if falling from the ceiling.

“Halt!” a strict voice ordered to the stranger instantly, the sound fazing you only for a fleeting moment as realization dawned to you; it was your own voice that had found its way out and echoed in the otherwise abandoned walls. “Show yourself!”

The man indeed halted in his steps, clearly taken aback by your presence, and slowly turned around to face you; only then you took notice of his hands cladded in black gloves, clutching a sack no bigger than his head.

Much to your surprise, a grin swiftly replaced the grimace twisting his unfamiliar face and his bright eyes seemed to light up while his gaze rudely roamed your figure, finally landing on your frowny expression.

“Ah, the princess herself! What an honour!” a deep timber of a voice called out.

Then the stranger attempted and failed to curtsy, giving you an impression of a man mocking you.

A righteous offence taken warmed up your head in an instant; yet, you had been taught to be nothing short of polite, ever, and so you approached the man with kindness and caution as if to battle his rudeness.

“What are you seeking in these corridors, my lord? You should not-“

“My lord!” he echoed, a blend of more mockery and awe colouring his voice in deep marron, his next slurred words giving away his origin – one that could have not be noble, ringing all alarm bells in your mind. ”Whadda polite thin’ ya’re.”

“Excuse me? And who do you believe to be to address me in such manner?!” you snapped back, forgoing all the manners you had been taught and reaching to your bodice for a hidden slot instinctively. “What is it you hide in your sack?”

His eyebrow rose in bewilderment, his smile widening visibly under his thick dark beard – however, you did not miss how his eyes flickered to your side, where your hand had sneaked to take a hold of your dagger.

One single step in your direction, a minute shift in his posture, and your weapon was drawn, blade in the height of his eyes; his pupils enclosed in blue-grey irises swiftly refocused on the sharp object, his hands slowly lowering the sack. Under your attentive gaze, he went to unwrap it.

“Do you not come closer or I shall call the guards!” you warned him, your voice rising in volume to emphasize your point, to show him that your actions and threats were as far from a jest as he could imagine.

“Just showin’ ya’ the sack, Princess, no need to get jumpy,“ the stranger grumbled, eyes never leaving yours as he revealed his secret.

A gasp of pure surprise and horror left your lips, a momentary weakness swaying your strength and causing you to lower the blade only a fraction. Spots danced in your vision upon the revelation.

In an instant, faster than you could ever hope to comprehend, a slightly painful twist of your wrist had you drop your weapon, a rustle of fabric the only warning before your back gently hit the wall with a soft thud, pinned by his body, entirely immobilized.

Before you could attempt a scream, a calloused hand covered your mouth – a dirty, filthy hand, one which had touched the royal crown (!) without permission, without any right--- and as if such insolence wasn’t insulting enough, the man, momentarily touching you as well, clearly attempted to steal it.

Attempted to steal the crown jewels!

Oh Gods-

The clank of your dagger on the stony floor broke the vicious circle of your consternation; however, you couldn’t bear tearing your gaze away from the handsome face as you found it in such close quarters with yours, few inches only. Hard warm body had found its way to press against yours further, hard and yet almost soft, as if holding you down with care.

Perhaps you should have tried and alert the guards even incapacitated--- however, you couldn’t. Your shock at the impertinence of this man was long gone, its rightful place taken by awe at his startling beauty.

Your heart was attempting to beat its way out of your chest, for reasons you seemed to be unable to fully grasp; never you had thought fear was so near to excitement and fascination. You never hoped a man’s body touching yours could feel so wonderful.

“I don’t like bein’ rude, doll.”

Not even the contradiction of such sentence – calling you a doll, which for an explicable reason brought you pleasure, and the exclaim of his aversion to disrespect – could hope to snap you from your trance.

The huff of exasperation against his palm was more of an instinct, half-heartedly meant, as your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, unable to escape the trap of his gaze.

“So I gotta introduce myself,” the stranger hummed, observing you with equal interest as if he saw you for the first time, as if all of your people didn’t know your face. “They call me Winter.”

Every muscle in your body tensed at the exclaim and yet, you turned nearly limp in his hold as you succumbed to the sudden faintness.

Winter.

You have heard of that name, clad in a fog of mystery. Winter, the fabled thief, given the name for he was always coming on days of celebrations of the winter solstice; and yet, while all kingdoms remained at highest alert for the fear that he would arrive at their doorstep, he always managed to slip through their fingers, almost as if being a master of mystical arts.

Some didn’t believe in his existence as such at all; however, the losses in royals’ and noble’s belongings were far too real for the man to be a mere legend.

In this moment, Winter – especially since standing right in front of your own eyes – appeared indeed startlingly real.

And as much as such realization was disconcerting, you felt yourself being thoroughly charmed and fascinated.

Your mind could not but race to solve the mystery – how many gems he had stolen before they began to reflect in his face? Eyes like topazes, threaded with silver lining, precious ruby lips hidden in a rich dark beard covering a jaw worth of royalty. A golden crown would complete the picture and perhaps its glow already twinkled in the thief’s irises.

“I don’t wanna hurt ya’, pretty doll. So, don’t ya’ scream, yeah?” Winter whispered a secret, a plea, and you couldn’t but comply, even if you found yourself missing the warmth and weight of his palm. A smile graced his lips again, your heart replying with a flutter. “I’m gonna walk away and you’re not gonna say a thin’ ‘bout me, yeah?”

The gems glimmering in his eyes shone brighter as they indulged in observing your face with something resembling attraction as you she battled with yourself, vainly attempting to overcome the spell he put on you, causing you to only nod – rather than acting upon a rational thought and calling for guards to capture the infamous thief.

The most skilled thief you had ever encountered; though you had not met many.

Rough fingers with the softest touch brushed your cheek and you wondered how only was it possible to steal someone’s breath, the air from their lungs; for this was what it felt like, a brief encounter of skin and skin, fleeting, yet eternal as your face appeared to absorb the heat of his touch.

A playful smile, a smirk blending into a tender grin, spread your assailant’s mouth.

“Next time… I’m stealin’ the real crown jewel, Your Highness,” a confident exclaim left his lips before they encountered yours in a hasty peck, pleasant warmth only lasting a moment, yet long enough to ignite fire in your bones. Your eyes nearly fluttered shut in an unexpected bliss.

He had the audacity to wink at you as he took his retreat, claiming both his price and your dagger for a good measure, still smiling, as if the weapon meant a memento to him.

He left you in your stupor, form unmoving besides the swift motions of your chest as you hoped to catch your breath, to calm your fluttering heart and tingling fingertips and most importantly, to regather your wits.

Winter had already taken his leave long ago when you, in your mind, proclaimed him the most skilful thief in seven kingdoms indeed – for he had stolen your breath… and perhaps captured your heart as well.

Of that you were certain when the next day, you could feel your face light up as a brand-new dagger was brought to you by your loyal handmaiden Wanda, along with a note written in charming cursive, without a name signed yet self-explanatory:

Till next time, Jewel mine.

And you felt as if the next-time couldn’t arrive soon enough, your body already aching for your missing heart.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Of Thieves and Queens of Hearts (sequel, ‘one-shot’)

B.B. masterlist (...yes, it’s that short)

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Thank you for reading!

And wow, look at that, I wrote something short again; I blame my poor attempts at writing Bucky 😄

#cappysforeverchallenge #fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier imagine #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #captain america #medieval au #au #thief bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #of jewels and gems #anika ann

199 notes · View notes

adultswim2021 · 2 years

Text

Stroker and Hoop #7: “Quiller Instinct (a.k.a. Peeping Todd)” | October 10, 2005 – 12:00AM | S01E07

Three episodes of Stroker and Hoop in a row have really taken their toll on me. It's a toll we almost pay (death). What I'm saying is that this episode will kill me, and I am writing around moaning dramatically, assuming I will be dead by morning. Goodbye everyone! Bye bye!

Okay so this one is about an AS SEEN ON TV type gadget guy stealing ideas from the mechanic guy on the show, whose name I think is Double Wide? Is that right? Weird name. Anyway, they steal his ideas and he is left bitter and scorned. We then find out that the company's products are not just stolen, but they also aid in stealing ideas by doubling as surveillance devices. The machines turn out be sentient and are gruesomely attacking their owners. They all reference a specific day of reckoning.

There were two things I liked about this one: first there was a scene where an informant tells Stroker what's going on by handing him a CD, and Stroker scolds her for not putting it in a jewel case. Very funny! AND RELATABLE. Then there's a bit at the end where the robots all start going crazy and mowing everybody down, so Stroker, Hoop, and others just go to Mexico to wait it all out, and that's basically how it ends.

Oh yeah, I forgot there's a subplot that one of the titles is named after: Hoop gets bitten by what he assumes is a radioactive porcupine and gets porcupine powers. Or does he? Anyway, it's sorta creative but it really doesn't yield much in the way of laughs. This whole episode seems okay on paper (as far as Stroker & Hoop episodes go) but man, I am all Stroker'd out.

MAIL BAG:

Did you know that if you add a YouTube video to a tumblr post and try to insert it in the middle of the post, it’ll instead add itself to the END of a post AND delete whatever last paragraph is on there? Huh! It’s almost like this website sucks or something. Anyway, I’m reposting this mail bag so I can TRY to recreate my original response to it, because Kon literally posted this in private at me and then said “I’m gonna submit this to your blog so you can riff on it” and then I did but it got DELETED:

Man the porno episode of Stroker & Hoop was the first one I really hated. That said, I still searched the internet for an uncensored version lol because it looked like they actually animated the nude scenes for the inevitable, sure-to-be-made Stroker & Hoop season 1 DVD.

DAMN dude, what did I say to this the first time? I remember it ended with the phrase “you believe in HEAVEN, don’t you?”. Anyway, I hope we get a fully X-Rated Stroker and Hoop DVD, against all odds. I wish everything was available on DVD or blu-ray, no matter how bad it is. There should be a law. Sorry this was bad

This Kon guy sounds like a freak! All he cares about is cartoon titties!!! Someone send this dude a Stripperella dvd!!!!!

better yet, SEND IT TO ME! that woman is beautiful!

Way to not riff Kon's awesome mailbag, bro.

Hey! Fuck you pal! I explained myself! You should respect that

"Nothing made me laugh" is your new catchphrase. Because yes.

HEY, I’m at least doing a big smile tonight so that’s something.

does stroker & hoop ever do anything with the 70s cop show pastiche it has going on? i remember AS's black dynamite show (which I remember being ok) did but this seems like it doesn't. i can't even figure out what stroker is supposed to have going for it. i'm not watching to find out for myself, it's banned in this household (bummer)

This is a good point, it seems to be playing dress-up with the 70s aesthetic but it comes off more like a mid-90s cartoon you’d pair with Duckman more than anything else. Could this show be a reference to the 90s fad of 70s nostalgia and not the 70s itself? I don’t know. What I do know is: Duckman is good. I love it.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #stroker and hoop

3 notes · View notes

imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Dangerous Love (Pt. 12 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 2.8 K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

<- Previous part (11)

Next part (13) ->

{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

So The Whole World Knows

Bruce loves you. It's the first thing that comes to your mind when you wake up. You talked for hours, until late at night, and Bruce told you exactly when he started falling for you. It was on the day he went to Belle Reve to take in your papers. That was the first time he saw you, through the camera they had in your cell. You remember that day because the lights were turned on for fifteen minutes or so. But you would never guess it was for Bruce to see you. From that moment on, Bruce told you, he felt something change inside him. He also tried to push it back, ignore it, misread it. But he knew he had to help you.

It got a little messy when it was your time to speak. You stuttered like an idiot, struggling to find the right words to express yourself. Bruce did seem to find it a little funny, so you playfully slapped him a couple of times. But in the end, the three words finally came out, from your lips and from his. Bruce is dead serious about your relationship, and this time he told you with all the words. He assured and reassured you this is not just a fling or a crush. He wants what you have to be serious, solid. And you want the same.

Smiling, you move closer to Bruce, felling as his chest rises and falls with his steady breath. “Morning, sweetheart.” He says.

“Hey...”

“It's a little late, I bet.” He turns his head to look at the digital clock by the nightstand on his side of the bed. “Almost ten.” He starts moving to get up and you let out a groan.

“Five more minutes. C'mon.”

“I'm taking you out today, remember?” He sits up, looking down at you. “So get up and get ready.”

He's way more excited about this than you are. But you get on with the morning routine. Shower, breakfast, and you have to add dressing up on something other than sweatpants and tank top. You have just two pairs of jeans to choose from and a few blouses. Bruce got them for you a while ago, but you never had any reason to use them. You have a pair of white sneakers too. When you're done, you do look different. Normal... These simple-looking clothes are expensive, you can tell. You've had your share of stolen high fashion clothes, so you know the difference between clothes that normal people can buy and the clothes Bruce Wayne has access to.

“Are you ready?” Bruce calls and you leave the bathroom. “You look–”

“It's just sneakers, jeans, and a purple blouse.” You cut him off, rolling your eyes at the smile that comes to his lips. “You look very handsome in this suit.” You can't help but say, trying not to look for so long and leading the way out of the bedroom.

Bruce rathers have his driver taking you, so he can stay on the back seat with you. Seeing the city after all this time, almost a year and a half if you count with the time you were in Belle Reve, feels different. Even more because you're in the daylight, not trying to hide, and not planning any kind of mischief. It's like seeing everything for the first time. Gotham has it's a beauty... at least here, the good part of the city.

When Bruce tells the driver to stop, your heart skips a beat. He gets out first, and you're frozen, suddenly aware of people walking up and down the street. “Let's go,” Bruce says in a soft tone after he opens the door for you.

“Let's go,” you repeat, more to yourself than to him.

And you're off the car, holding Bruce's hand as you walk at a slow pace. You get the feeling that people are staring. At you, at Bruce, and them at your holding hands. It's good to know that they don't seem to know who you are. Bruce takes you to a few stores so you can buy your own clothes. You resist a lot because you keep checking the price tags even though he told you not to. You stop by a restaurant to have lunch before you hit different stores. At some point you know you have more than you need right now, but he doesn't seem to see it that way.

“They don't recognize me,” you mutter as you pass by a small group of people.

“You're different. And not just because of the hair color.” He looks down at you, smiling.

Biting your lip, you hold back a smile too. As you look at the store's display, you slow down until you stop before a window. There's a necklace in a display, with three pink stones. Acting out of pure instinct, your eyes scan the store's entrance for cameras. Two. “I could steal it, you know.” You decide to tell Bruce, just to tease him. “One of those cameras is broken. And even if it wasn't, it never stopped me before.” You wink at him as he raises his eyebrow, starting to move again.

“Come.” He grabs your arm, pulling you inside the store.

“No,” you exclaim, trying to pull him back to the street. Which is useless. “Bruce, c'mon.”

“Ma'am. I'd like to see that piece you have on display. The necklace with the pink diamonds.”

“Diamonds?”

The woman does as he says, and seconds later she puts the piece on the desk before you. “This is a unique piece. The designer never makes the same piece twice. A true jewel.”

“It sounds super expensive.”

“Well, you can't expect to buy something unique for a low coast.” She says, even though you weren't talking to her. “Are you going to take it, Mr. Wayne?”

“Let's see.” Bruce takes the necklace from the display and moves to stand behind you. “Pin your hair up for me, please.” He asks when he notices that you won't move. Taking a deep breath, you do as he says, and Bruce puts the necklace around your neck, pulling you to stand before the mirror. “What do you think?”

The delicate stones looks beautiful, obviously, and you touch it with your fingertips. “I think it wasn't meant for someone like me,” you whisper.

“I think you're wrong. And it's you that makes the necklace look even more beautiful.” Bruce places a soft kiss on your shoulder before turning back to the woman. “I will take it.”

Unbelievable. “You shouldn't spoil me, Bruce Wayne,” you tell him when you're leaving the store.

“After everything you went through in that hell, I will spoil you... Just a little bit.”

“Well... I think we can go home now. Or do you want to take me somewhere else?”

“You will need a dress for today's gala.”

“What?” You stop walking again, turning to look at him. “What gala?”

“I have another dull party to attempt, and I thought it would be a good chance to introduce you to the city.” He says as if it's no big deal to take a wanted criminal to a high society party, where everyone will not only see but photograph you.

“Bruce, people will... Everyone will see that we're together... What will they–”

“Haven't you considered the possibility that I might want people to know we're together?”

“But...”

You don't even have the chance to think about what the hell you were going to say next because Bruce pulls you into a kiss. It's slow, as if you're weren't in the middle of the sidewalk of a very hectic street. But soon enough there's no one else. As you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, you deepen the kiss. The world fades away, and nothing else matters. And you feel like you can deal with the gala as long as you're with him.

• • •

As much as you love the silver dress Bruce gave you for your birthday, your back is still a little messed up. So your new dress, in a dark shade of blue, covers it. It's crazy how Bruce has to help you figure out what to do with your hair. Luckily, Diana is still here to intervene. She helps you make some waves and pin half of it up, to so it'll stay away from your face except for a few locks. You're worried sick about this gala thing as you go downstairs, and to the living room, where Bruce is waiting. He smiles when he sees you, and you blush and look down.

The short trip to the gala is silent because you're gathering the courage you'll need. When the car stops, you're taken aback by the countless photographers and journalists.

“Are you ready, my love?” Bruce asks, holding your hand. You nod, taking a deep breath. “I'll open the door for you and those flashes will be on your face. There will be questions, and probably a headline about Bruce Wayne's girlfriend tomorrow.”

“I know.” Nodding at him, you watch as he gets out. Bruce stops and waves for the cameras for a while before walking around the car and opening your door.

The world slows down as you step out, holding onto Bruce's arm, trying your best not to look more misplaced than you already do. “Just smile.” He whispers before placing a kiss on your cheek. And you do as he says, smiling and even waving a little. There are countless cameras flashing, microphones, and a lot of questions, so many you can't even understand most of them. Some want to know your name, why you showed up with Bruce Wayne if it's right to assume you're in a relationship. But since Bruce doesn't seem like he'll answer any of them, you keep your mouth shut. “Time to go in. Let them freak out about it.”

“Okay.” You let him guide you inside, a hand on the small of your back.

This gala takes place in a luxury hotel, and its main hall is sophisticatedly decorated. Everything seems terribly expensive and breakable, and the people seem to be stupidly rich. You even recognize some of them. Politicians, philanthropists, CEOs... You stole from some of these guys and here you are now, at the same party, as if you belong.

“Bruce...”

“What is it?” You stop by your table, and he pulls the chair for you to sit.

“What happens if only one person here recognizes me?” Would they call the police? Start running? Yelling? It would certainly be a mess, and the last thing you want is to ruin this. Bruce decided to bring you here so the city will see you, and to make a point to those women who still insist on trying to get him... And because he wanted your company. You can't even count how many times he told you that having you here would make this dull gala become something great... Bringing yourself to believe it it's still hard, but you're trying not to doubt him anymore. He has been proving that everything he says is true.

“They won't, my love. And even if they did... You're with me, remember? Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“Bruce Wayne.” A woman stops by, the same you saw some time ago from your window, hugging him in the garden. “So the rumors are true. You actually came with a girl.”

“Angela, this is (Y/N), my girlfriend.” He says, smiling as you reach out your hand to shake Angela's. There's a sting of anger in your chest, and for a moment you don't know why. But it must be jealousy, right? Bruce told you they're just old friends, but the image of the hug, and what you thought it meant back then floods your mind. But you bring back to memory everything Bruce said, and everything he has done.

“Nice to meet you, Angela. Bruce told me a lot about you.”

“Only the bad things, I hope.” She giggles and you offer her a smile. “You better be ready to see your face on every news channel tomorrow night. The woman who finally got into Bruce Wayne's heart.”

“I've been warned,” you say, exchanging a glance with Bruce.

“Well, take good care of him. He can be a little... Complicated.”

“You have no idea how.” Oh, if she only knew about his night job...

“I will leave you two. I still need to make my presence known to some very boring people.” With a last smile, she walks away.

“And I should do the same.” Bruce stands up.

“Okay.” You're starting to accept the fact that you'll have to sit here alone for a while when he reaches out his hand. “What?”

“Did you think I'd leave you here?” You take his hand and stand up, and he pulls you to his side. “I won't leave you alone.”

Biting your lip, you hold back a smile.

Now you get why Bruce finds these parties so dull. He walks around, meeting people, engaging in small conversations, complimenting random things... The difference now is that he's introducing you to every single one of them, as his girlfriend. Saying that they're surprised is a misunderstanding. They're perplexed because they don't seem to recognize you from any of the high society families of Gotham. Or from anywhere else.

As the night goes by, you feel the anxiety vanishing. You even give your opinion about some things. Politics, company administration, economy. It makes Bruce give you a proud smirk, that you'll make sure to tease him about later.

When the formal talk is over, and the music starts playing, Bruce takes you to the middle of the hall, and you dance among the rest of the people. The photographers are allowed in, but not the journalists. And it doesn't take much until some of them reach you, and the cameras start flashing.

“As soon as they get a few good shots, they'll leave,” Bruce reassures you.

“I'm alright. It doesn't bother me.” You have your eyes fixed on him, but you close them when your foreheads touch.

“There's something else I need them to get on camera. To make things one hundred percent clear.”

“What?”

Bruce closes the final distance between the two of you, capturing your lips on a soft, warm kiss. And it happens again, the rest of the world disappears. The flashes, the gossip... Nothing else matters.

• • •

“Bruce, I'm on TV,” you yell from the living room. “And not because I broke the law.”

He comes from the kitchen with a smile, handing you a bowl of ice cream before sitting beside you on the couch. “What are they saying?”

“The girl who came out of the blue stole Bruce Wayne's heart. The most wanted bachelor is now taken. Sorry, girls.” you add the last sentence, shrugging your shoulders. “Same thing that channel five.”

“I got calls. People asking for an interview with you.”

“Oh, no. They'll ask about my past. What the hell am I going to say?”

“You don't have to say anything. They don't have to know.” He gestures for you to move closer, and when you do, he pulls you so you're seated in between his legs, comfortably leaning against his chest. “Nothing else matters, remember? Just you and me.”

“Nothing else matters,” you repeat, closing your eyes for a moment to feel the soft kiss he places on your shoulder. “Life is good, you know? It's finally good.” Your mind floats back to your troubled past, when you had many things, expensive things, everything money could get. And how empty it was. Flash forward to today, here, in Bruce's arms, you finally feel complete, loved, like you found your place in the world without having to steal it, or put on a mask to conquer it.

“There's only one thing left, my love. Your freedom.”

Moving so you can look at him, you sigh. “Even if I have to be here, not being allowed to go out there again, I'd still be happy, you know.”

“But I want you to have everything. To be free to go for a walk if you want, to make friends and hang out with them. Graduate and find a job you enjoy... All the things you never had.”

“Maybe it's more than I deserve.”

“You deserve it. More than those guards who torture you. They're criminals too, as were you.”

The simple fact that the said it in the past makes you smile. “I love you, Bruce.”

“I love you too.” You both focus on the news again, watching an entire show decided to talking about you. Countless photos and videos of Bruce come to the screen, and you can't help but look with admiration. You look good, despite seeming a little clueless in the beginning, but then you look almost normal, holding onto Bruce's arm. The gala was nice, and you felt a little special by being there, but the best part was coming home with Bruce and having the silly little things you have. Having dinner together, falling asleep together. Happiness isn't enough to describe it. You'll have to create a whole new word.

@fionanovasleftnut @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21 @agustdpeach @yaakimoon2 @chloe-skywalker @rosalynshields

#bruce wayne imagine #imagine bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruve wayne x y/n #imagine bruce #bruce imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce x reader #bruce x you #bruce x y/n #batman imagine #imagine batman #batman x reader #ben affleck batman #justice league imagine

66 notes · View notes

qlala · 3 years

Photo

I’ve had a couple requests to see the unfinished Leonard and Lisa fic I mentioned yesterday, so I’m going to try posting it here! It’s the first ~2k words, so please let me know if the “read more” doesn’t work.

The basic idea involves a meta who can link up two people’s memories, similar to the concept of “the drift” in Pacific Rim. Barry and Leonard get whammied by her during a fight, and they’re both pretty much incapacitated by it, because there’s a lot to deal with there on both sides. There’d be a coldflash endgame if I ever finish it, but that’s not overt in this section. If it’s not clear, italics indicate a memory not Barry’s own.

Trigger warnings: Please be aware that for obvious reasons, this deals a lot with Leonard and Lisa’s abusive childhood. The abuse doesn’t appear “on screen,” so to speak, but the fallout from it and the strong emotions surrounding it do. There’s also a brief allusion to transactional sex. Please keep yourselves safe and don’t read if you’re in a headspace where those things could be harmful to you. ❤️

By the time Barry stopped screaming, Leonard had filled the team in on what had happened to them.

Barry came back to himself with heaving, raw breaths. He tried to focus on the marble flooring beneath his cheek, and he twisted off his side to press his forehead to it, cool and grounding.

He could hear Leonard talking—familiar voice, terse sentences, clipped like he was speaking between gritted teeth—but it took Barry a second to locate him in the room. He was pressed back into the corner of the room opposite from him, kneeling, his arms wrapped tight around his middle. His hands were knotted white-knuckled in the material of the parka, an apparent attempt to stop the shaking that was visible even from twenty feet away.

He wondered when Leonard had moved, then wondered how much time had passed. The last thing he remembered was trying to push Leonard out of the way as the meta lashed out at them with… whatever it had been, a streak of white light, fragmented like a chain, a leash.

The memory was hard to pin down. It kept appearing to him from two different angles, and there was a headache pressing behind his eyes that grew sharper every time he tried to focus on one or the other.

“Barry? Barry, can you—?”

Barry didn’t even think when the hand reached for him and a barrage of memories hit him broadside: other hands, one other hand. He jerked backwards, his powers the last thing from his mind, and whoever it was yanked their hand away as if he’d just bitten them.

“Stop.” It was odd to hear Leonard’s voice without the drawl, sharp with anger, clear and ringing.

“He can’t help it.”

Cisco’s voice—that was even better than the floor. The memories that floated up were Barry’s own: movie nights, STAR Labs, a Lady Gaga song playing on repeat.

“Not him,” Leonard said. When he looked up, his eyes were so blood-stained that it was hard to see the blue of his irises. That explained Barry’s headache, at least. “You. All of you. Stop touching him.”

“He needs help.”

Iris’s tone was steady, careful; it was the voice she used on stray cats and nervous sources. Barry was glad to find her just off to his right, but he still flinched as soon as she lifted her hand.

In the corner, Leonard made an aborted movement as if to stop her. “Last thing I’d want right now is someone grabbing me.” It was taking him obvious effort to speak; he shut his eyes, and his brow was furrowed in what could’ve been pain, and could’ve been concentration. “Given the circumstances, I suspect that’s… operative. At the moment.”

There was a silence in which all Barry could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Then Iris knelt a careful foot away and placed her hand on the ground, palm up.

Barry nodded once—it was all he could manage—and reached out to clasp her wrist.

“Barry?”

He nodded again, and her shoulders dropped in relief.

“Okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. Do you know where you are?”

He risked a glance around, only to wince at the double memories: sitting on his dad’s shoulders as he explained how he’d consulted on the new exhibit about the human body, showed him his name on a sign by the door; Lisa dragging him through the Jewels of the World exhibit, her hand impossibly small in his own, declaring the Hope Diamond hideous with the flippant confidence only a child could have.

Barry’s head throbbed, and when he rubbed his free hand under his nose, it came away streaked with blood.

In his peripherals, Leonard mirrored the gesture, then wiped his wrist on his coat.

“The natural history museum,” Barry rasped. “Central.”

“Why is it affecting him more than you?” Caitlin’s voice, unexpected, behind him. “You’re getting his memories, too, aren’t you?”

Barry groaned as guilt panged in his chest; his whole team had been dragged out because he couldn’t take down one meta.

Leonard finally looked at him again, then met Caitlin’s gaze with a hard glare. “Karaoke,” he said, surprising her into a blink. “Grease. You’re a terrible singer.”

She looked offended, but when Leonard pushed himself to his feet, her doctor’s instincts seemed to take over, and she took a step toward him.

He held out a hand to stop her. “Your voice is the third-worst thing Barry’s past has to throw at me. Not all of us have lived such charmed lives.”

Barry’s lip curled even as his mind latched onto Leonard’s taunt, grateful for the distraction. “My parents were killed in front of me,” he said. “And my father’s doppelganger broke my back on national television.”

Leonard glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “I ranked that last one lower than Snow’s Olivia Newton-John.”

Iris tensed beside him, but it shocked a snort of laughter out of Barry. “I’m—” He let go of Iris’s wrist, used the hand to push himself up to sitting. “I’m fine. Can we go back to the lab?”

He was about to offer to run them there, but a glance toward the glass doors brought a fresh wave of memories, decades of them tied to the museum steps, the restaurant across the street, a stop sign stolen from the intersection before he’d even been born.

“Best to keep your eyes closed,” Leonard said.

“Yeah,” Barry agreed. He wouldn’t have gotten down the block. “Cisco, can you—?”

Cisco powered up his Vibe gloves, a ripple already opening up in the space in front of them. “Yeah, man. Come on. Let’s get you home.”

* * * * * *

“I said not to call her.”

Leonard sounded on the edge of homicide, and Barry risked opening his eyes to glance over at him. He didn’t need the sensors taped to Leonard’s wrists and temple (he’d steadfastly refused to take off his shirt, had pulled a knife when Caitlin had tried to insist) to guess at his spiked blood pressure, though the monitor next to him confirmed it with a beep of alarm.

They were in the medical bay at STAR Labs, had been for over six hours. Leonard was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, apparently above anything as vulnerable as lying down (or, apparently, painkillers, which Barry hadn’t even had the option of taking) and Cisco was doing an impressive job of standing his ground in the doorway.

“She called me, alright, Cold? I couldn’t lie to her, not when she’s got a tracker showing her you’re sitting in my lab—”

“She lied to you.”

“It’s in the tip of one of your shoelaces, if it’s in the same place as mine,” Cisco offered, not unkindly.

They were interrupted by the sharp, carrying click of high heels coming down the hallway.

The monitor next to Leonard’s bed beeped again, and Barry glanced at it. His blood pressure wasn’t the only thing elevated now; his heart rate was spiking, more than anything that could be blamed on anger. He was afraid. Barry had half a second to wonder why, then Leonard bit out, “Close your eyes,” and Lisa shoved past Cisco into the room in a whirlwind of righteous fury.

Barry’s own memories almost didn’t recognize her. He hadn’t seen her in over a year, and her hair was dramatically shorter than when they’d last met. It was short, boyishly so, and a dark brown he suspected was her natural color.

But his memories weren’t the only ones living in his head anymore, and his mouth opened without his permission. “Lis,” he said. “I haven’t seen your hair like that since—”

Nothing, not even that first blast of memories at the museum, could’ve prepared for the strength of the fear that slammed into him.

Lisa, barely ten, eating mac and cheese in front of the television. Lewis stumbling in the front door, reeking of beer. Every muscle tensing. A slurred name from Lewis when he saw Lisa, a name that made Len’s blood turn to ice, that made Lisa smile hopefully and ask, “Mom?” Lewis’s squint, his quiet, “Huh.” And then Lewis dropping on the couch, already halfway to passing out, and saying, “Gonna be a looker just like her.”

Len had pleaded with Lisa for hours that night, one hand on the kitchen scissors, one eye on the living room. The toy store, the candy store, fuck it, the pet store, anything she wanted, he’d buy it, just let him cut her hair, just this once, just til Dad went away again—

Barry remembered his powers just in time. He barely made it to the bathroom before his stomach heaved, and his hands were still shaking by the time he was able to take a full breath without retching again. He pushed up from the cracked floor—his knees had hit the ground hard enough to shatter the tile—and flushed the toilet, then limped out to the sink.

His reflection in the mirror was a mess; on top of everything else, his nose was bleeding again, too. He splashed cold water on his face, then changed his mind and stuck his whole head under the tap. He tried to focus on the sound of the water rushing over his ears; he needed a distraction, any distraction, to keep his mind from getting dragged back into the memory. The terror, the rage, the thousand better ways he could use those kitchen scissors to solve their problem instead of cutting off Lisa’s fucking baby curls—

Someone shut off the water, and Barry pulled back from the sink with a wet gasp. He pushed the soaking hair out of his eyes, flinched when it dripped onto his shoulders.

Getting too long, he thought, with a morbid hiccup of laughter. Then he threw up again.

When he recovered, Leonard was leaning against the sink next to him, holding out a paper towel.

“She doesn’t remember that,” he said, not looking at him. It was a warning, not a statement, and Barry nodded weakly.

“Our dad was back in prison by the end of the week.”

Because you planted a gun on him, Barry didn’t say. He remembered the weight of it in his hand, two rounds in the wall next to the gas station attendant’s head; had to leave something for ballistics. Wiping his prints off on his t-shirt, curling Lewis’s hand around the grip, the trigger, dead to the world; another shot into their floor to get the gunpowder on his hand and the neighbors on the phone with the cops.

Grabbing Lisa out of her bed, Winnie the Pooh blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders, thirty degrees outside. She was asleep on his chest by the time he got her to Mick’s. He dropped her off and went back to join the onlookers to make sure his dad got arrested, felt a vicious, bone-deep pleasure at seeing him dragged out of the hands in cuffs. He mentally added an extra year to their fortunes when the drunk old man elbowed a cop in the face, and black blood joined the blue and red lights in staining the front lawn.

Whatever else Leonard had been saying, Barry had missed it. The few fragments he heard—six to eight year sentence, legal guardianship—jarred another memory loose: a pro bono attorney who let his hand rest a little too long on Len’s arm; Len, broke, desperate, not shaking it off.

The feeling the memories carried was overwhelming, threatened to bring Barry to his knees. He was too frazzled to do the math, but Leonard couldn’t have been much older than he was now. Barry had no idea how he could’ve managed it, the absolute certainty that he would’ve killed for the child in his arms, the knowledge that one day, he probably would.

When Barry looked at Leonard, he found him gazing steadily back at him, and the full weight of his focus was so unexpected that Barry almost flinched again. He took the paper towel instead.

“When Lisa said you raised her. I didn’t realize…” He had no idea how to put it into words; maybe it was something that only someone who’d been a parent could really understand.

“My sister’s prone to exaggeration.”

His tone was flat, clipped, and Barry let the conversation lapse. He ran the sink again, then risked another glance in Leonard’s direction. He was still watching him.

“What did you give her?” he asked. “For her to let you cut her hair.”

Leonard was quiet for so long that Barry thought he wasn’t going to answer him. Then, finally, he lifted one shoulder in an unconvincing shrug. “Took her out of school for a week.” He crossed his arms and looked away again. “Told ‘em she had chicken pox. Brought her to work with me. Boss let her sit in the corner booth and color.”

It was enough; Barry remembered it. The bar—closed now—with its sticky floor, the regulars still passed out on the bar from the night before; he’d serve them coffee and peanuts and get to work cleaning, have the bar restocked with sliced lemons before the bartenders arrived and call the repair guy if the ice machine was broken again. The regulars put endless Shirley temples on their tabs for Lisa, syrupy sweet sodas for a buck apiece that stained her teeth red, until Len cut her off and they ordered nachos for her instead, pretzels with beer cheese, doing a better job of feeding her than Len did most nights.

There were tears stinging Barry’s eyes; Leonard ignored them other than handing him another paper towel, this one accompanied by an eye roll.

#leonard snart #lisa snart #// tw abuse #the sniblings #my fics #barry allen #the flash

19 notes · View notes

prolestariwrites · 4 years

Photo

Open For Me [1]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Vergil/Reader Tags: Explicit sexual content, First time, First love, Violence, Death, Implied dubcon, Implied drug-induced sex Rating: M Part: 1 of 5

Summary: Vergil's life has been difficult as far back as he can remember, until he meets a young woman who saves his life. Can she save it again when he learns the truth of who he is, and bring him back from a dark and dangerous fate? A five-part story of pre- and post-canon Vergil. A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for months and I’m excited to finally be publishing. Thank you especially to @wordborne and @solynacea for feedback on this story. Credit to @drusoona for the Vergil pic above and the many sent my way that helped immensely. This story is written and will update every Friday, five parts in total.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Chapter 1: February 1994

That’s the problem with being the strong one. No one offers you a hand. —m. t.

“Come on,” you whisper as you unlock the front door and slip inside. Vergil follows, and you lean around him to quietly press the door shut and turn the deadbolt with a click. Pausing, you listen for any sound, but the house is dark and quiet. The truck outside means that at least your stepfather is home, but it’s late enough he’s probably sleeping off whatever he drank for the day. Mom is working nights, so no chance of running into her.

You don’t bother to turn on any of the lights, leading Vergil carefully up the steps, making sure to avoid the one that squeaks. His presence behind you makes your senses heightened, because if either of your parents found out you brought a boy home they’d have your ass and you’d be lucky to make it out alive. You hadn’t said as much to Vergil, but he seems to know instinctively, and he is silent as he follows you up to your room in the third-floor attic.

Once safely inside, you shut and lock your door before flipping on the bedside lamp. The room is bathed in warm light, and you turn nervously to see what he thinks. Vergil surveys the room, his face expressionless, but you breathe a sigh of relief when he nods. “It’s nice,” he says.

“Thanks.” Suddenly embarrassed, you gesture to your bed. “Want to sit down?”

“Sure.” He drops his bag quietly and kicks off his shoes, well-worn boots that are too expensive to belong to him. Everything he has is too expensive to be his, the leather jacket that he shrugs off and hangs on the doorknob, the chain around his neck that holds something under his dark t-shirt.

Vergil is a street kid, one of the many that roam around selling drugs and shoplifting to get by, but he’s different. Even though everything he owns is surely stolen and he doesn’t go to school or have a job, he’s not like the other punks who hang out on the corners. You had seen him around a bit, coming into the community center once in a while when they hand out box lunches or to rummage through the clothes bin. There had been something about him, some kind of air that made him stand out from the usual homeless kids; as if he didn’t really belong, as if he was from somewhere else, some time else.

Finally your curiosity got the better of you. You hang there too, a place to go that’s not home, and one afternoon as he was looking around with a scowl, you dared to go over.

“I’ve seen you before,” you said, looking him up and down.

“No you didn’t,” he had answered.

To your surprise, he had actually seemed almost alarmed. So you changed tactics and asked, “You need some help?”

“I don’t need help,” he said. “I’m looking for a phone.”

You jerked your chin to the side. “Payphones are over there. Need a quarter?”

“Thanks.” He had taken your quarter and made a call, and afterward you told him about the shower in the back he could use if he wanted. He had hesitated, but then nodded, and twenty minutes later when he had emerged with his silverish hair all wet and slicked back you were almost in love.

He kept turning up, and whether you made sure to run into him or he made sure to run into you, you didn’t know. But somehow when you were there, he was too. You learned his name was Vergil, and he was on his own, seventeen years old, just like you. You are a senior in high school, but he never went, and you laughed when he seemed surprised at the suggestion.

“Where do you live?” you had asked him one day as you helped him load some clothes into the washing machine.

“Wherever I can,” he had answered shortly.

“You can stay with me, if you ever get stuck.”

Like most of the teens that frequent the center, Vergil started to help around the place, but most of the time he just hung around, watching you do homework or sweep the floor, using the place to shower and get dinner or just take a nap in the TV room.

It’s cold tonight though, so when you offered a place again, he actually said yes. It still surprises you, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you watch him sit carefully on your mattress. He looks so out of place on your pink bedspread, which is too thin and too short but all you have. “Are you hungry?” you ask.

“Not really,” he answers. “Why are we being so quiet?”

You blush furiously at the question, moving to pick up some things you had tossed on the floor. “My stepdad is probably sleeping. He can be mean when you wake him up.”

“Sounds like an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you snort. You peek over your shoulder. “Not much longer though. I’m graduating in June and then I’m fucking out of here.”

“You’re leaving?”

You nod and dump the clothes in the hamper. “Yeah. I’ve been saving for a place. Gonna go to the city, get a job waitressing or something and try to take some classes. I want to be a nurse.”

Vergil considers this and nods. “You’d be good at that. When are you leaving?”

Shrugging, you reply, “I don’t know. This summer. Why, you want to come?”

His eyes widen slightly, then he surprises you again by nodding. “Yes. I’ll come.”

You smile and move to the bed, pressing your knee to the mattress as you straddle one of his legs. “Good,” you say, your arms going around his shoulders as his wraps around your waist. Then you lean down to kiss him, and your mouths seal together with a sigh as you settle on his lap.

It was two weeks ago when you had first kissed Vergil, stealing one when you were saying goodnight before heading home. You had been staying later and later just to hang out with him, and he was a regular now, there just to see you. Vergil even started walking you home, although you made him leave you at the corner, afraid your parents would see you walking up with a boy they wouldn’t approve of. It had been nothing more than a peck, but the next night he had kissed you properly, and every night since, leaving you in a daze when you turned down the block to your house.

His mouth is just as hot, just as firm, his lips lingering over yours. He slides his palms over your hips before slipping under your shirt, and you nibble on his lip as his fingers move upwards, his touch on your bare skin making you shiver.

The room is quiet, the only sound your heavy breathing mingling as he takes off your shirt and you unbutton his jeans. Shyly you undress before he climbs over you, and you run your hands over his chest, his body just lean muscle. Hanging on a thin chain is a red jewel, and you pause to examine it as he cages you in with his arms. “This is beautiful,” you whisper, but he cuts off any other remarks with another kiss.

His eyes are intense as he slides between your thighs. “Open for me,” he whispers. The red pendant hangs between you, the bedroom light making it sparkle just a bit, and when he lowers against you it presses firm and cool against your breasts. It’s your first time, and you wonder if it’s his too, but you’re too scared to ask because neither answer will honestly make you happy. So you pull him into another kiss as the head of him nudges against your opening, sighing into his mouth as he presses inside.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Vergil sits on the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees, and thinks. Sleeping on a mattress had felt almost foreign to him, it had been so long; even on the nights when he ended up in a shelter or crashing at someone’s place, it was on the floor, or at most a couch. A real bed with a real pillow and blanket had given him a strange sort of unease, so he had spent most of the night watching you sleep, pleased with that at least.

The clock on the bedside table reads ten minutes until seven. He should go, but he is reluctant. It is bitterly cold outside, telltale frost on the window that shows the temperature is below freezing. It’s also Saturday, which means that the places he would normally go to, like the library or the mall, will open later than normal. He is also wary of running into someone on the way out and getting you in trouble. Even though he knows the way through your house already, having memorized it like second nature on the way in, a wayward creaky step or a loose board in the floor could alert someone he is there, and that would be disaster.

Most of all, though, he doesn’t want to leave you. Vergil glances over to see you still asleep, his lips curling into a small smile as he presses his mouth to his fingers. Last night had been… unexpected. But it was exciting and lovely and your kindness in giving him a place to stay was only second to how amazed he had been when you kissed him. He is always amazed by you: like a bright star, he thinks, something that gives life and warmth. But he is cautious, always cautious, because too much sun could burn.

Something shifts in the house, prickling along the back of his neck, and Vergil knows he made the right choice. A few minutes later there are footsteps in the hallway below, a door opening and closing, running water. Some muffled words and more footsteps, then the house falls quiet again, whoever it had been visiting the bathroom now back to sleep. Still, his presence is dangerous for them both, and they could have easily met on his way out.

You shift on the bed, your hand sliding along the bedsheet in your sleep. Deciding on staying, he lays back down, folding his arm around you to pull you against his chest. You are wearing one of his shirts, something that had made him snort when you asked, but it was endearing and Vergil was happy to lend something. Your legs curl around his and he sighs, trying to enjoy the peace and quiet.

How long has it been for him to have such a moment? Childhood, probably, before Dante would wake up in a ball of frenetic energy and tear through the house, feet slapping on the floor and his voice echoing down the hallway. Vergil would lay in bed like this, or sit on the windowsill, watching the snow fall or the leaves dance on the wind or the flowers peek out from the tree outside his window. Dante’s room was across the hall, but that had been Vergil’s place to himself, his thinking spot.

He looks out the window, swallowing uncomfortably at the memory. The last time Vergil had been in his room, he was looking for a tennis set. He had found one of the rackets but not the other, and he huffed around his room in frustration, debating if it would be worth checking Dante’s. Dante could never clean up after himself, and searching his room would be doomed from the start.

Deciding to check the backyard, Vergil had hopped down the steps, wondering where his brother had gone off to. Once he found the other racket his plan was to make Dante play a few games, knowing he could beat him easily. They were evenly matched at most things, but Dante was always better at sports than Vergil: except tennis, which is why it was his favorite game.

You shift next to him, and Vergil realizes he is holding you a bit too tightly. He eases his grip, pushing away the next set of memories of what happened as he hunted through the sandbox for the missing racket. His fingers are trembling, but he forces them to relax, finally rubbing soft circles on your lower back as you open your eyes.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey,” he says back.

You yawn and press closer. “I half expected you to be gone,” you say sleepily.

Vergil chuckles. “I thought about it. But I didn’t want to leave you.”

“Good.”

He sighs, going back to staring out the window as you doze off. An hour slips by with him lost in his thoughts before you stir again, stretching your limbs before turning to smile up at him. “Hey again,” Vergil says.

“Do you want to hang out today?” you ask.

His brows dart up in surprise. “Sure, I think? You mean here?”

You shrug. “As long as we’re quiet. No one comes up here. You can stay here if they call me for something.”

Vergil nods, but doesn’t let himself get excited. Another night or two under a roof is too much to think about. Instead he rolls a bit to cover you with his body, his hand firm on your hip.

You sigh and press your face into his neck, and Vergil swallows thickly. Holding you like this, the only person who has ever been so kind to him… it’s a bit overwhelming, and he needs to take a few minutes to ground himself. Being alone has always been the plan: it’s safer, less messy, less likely to attract the demons who inevitably find him. Whenever there has been a bystander who gets in the way it just brings trouble, so Vergil makes it a point to stay away from humans as much as possible, venturing near them only when he needs something.

But you… his thumb runs circles on your hip before his palm slides up to your waist. You are small and fragile and wouldn’t stand a chance against the things that hunt him, but staying away from you seems impossible now.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask quietly. “Seems like you’re thinking about something.”

Vergil shakes his head. As he bends down to press his lips to yours, there is a drop of emotion that feels unwelcome: fear. He had long ago stopped being afraid, years on his own teaching him that only strength and discipline matter, that hesitation and fear only brought weakness. And weakness means death.

“Vergil,” you sigh, and he kisses you again, firmer this time as he presses one leg between your thighs. Arms wrap around him as fingers slide into his hair, the sensation thrilling and soothing at the same time. His heart is racing as his hand reaches out to grab the bedsheet with a fierce grip.

Beneath the surface of his skin and muscle something pulses in his blood, something he has felt for years but cannot name, something wrapped up in his DNA. All he knows is the drive to unlock it, whatever it is, but it has never been so clear or so fierce. Vergil has the sensation that whatever part of himself is still hidden is just out of reach, but being with you here brings it closer than ever, and he wonders if you could be the key. Anxiety mixes with desire and it is confusing and terrifying but he wants more of it, more of you.

The bedroom door slams open and you both break apart, jolting with the sound. Your hands press to his chest, pushing him off, and you slowly rise to take in the half-dressed and half-drunk man that stumbles in the door. “What the fuck is this?” he growls, pointing at Vergil. “Who the fuck are you?”

“It’s okay,” you say hurriedly, trying to push around Vergil. “He’s a friend of mine, and needed a place—”

“Fucking slut! You brought a boy home to fuck in my house?” he shouts. He takes another step forward, swaying slightly as his words slur. “Your mother’s too soft on you, I been saying it. After I kick his ass I’m gonna teach you a lesson, whore.”

Vergil can feel you go tense behind him, a little noise escaping. But he feels settled, faced with a threat he can understand, and he shakes off your grip to step into the middle of the room. “Disgusting pig,” Vergil spits, scoffing when the man gapes at him. “Turn around and leave if you know what’s good for you.”

The man lets go a string of curses that are barely coherent before he crashes forward, swinging. Vergil easily sidesteps him, his reflexes quick as he grabs him by the back of the neck and launches him towards the floor. He bounces against the wood, shouting as his chin cracks open, and when he rolls Vergil kicks him in the stomach.

“Vergil! Stop it!”

Your voice is the only thing that stops him. It pulls Vergil back from where he kneels over the man, fist raised to connect with his face. Vergil takes a few deep breaths, feeling the pulse of his power subside to a manageable level, and beyond that, the taste of what he cannot unlock, taunting him to hit the drunk and see what happens.

The stepfather looks up with wide eyes, as if shocked that he is on the floor, and Vergil makes a face. He reeks of beer and his face and neck are smeared with blood, two things Vergil hates. He stares back, jaw tightened as he grits his teeth; but as he lowers his fist he sees a bit of red tingeing the corners of the man’s eyes.

It is not the red of a night of drinking or of stumbling bleary-eyed from sleep: it is the red flash of a demon.

He stands and hauls the stepfather up, ignoring your protests. “Stay here,” he barks, dragging the man out and down the attic steps.

Once they hit the hallway, Vergil uses his real strength to slam him against the wall, nearly hearing his teeth rattle. He lifts the man easily and leans forward to threaten him. “I know what you are,” Vergil growls.

“What—”

“I can see you,” he seethes, talking to the demon. “This human left himself wide open with his vileness, didn’t he? So you listen.” The stepfather holds his breath as Vergil’s grip tightens. “Make sure he leaves her alone. Don’t speak to her, don’t look at her. Or I’ll come back and take care of you as well, understand?”

The man nods, so Vergil lowers him slowly. He lifts a hand to wipe blood from his mouth, and after shooting him a glare he pushes past and into the bathroom, slamming the door. Tension radiates through Vergil’s body but he purposely keeps it in check, taking his own moment before climbing the stairs back to the attic.

He finds you sitting on the bed, clutching the blanket tightly. “What happened?” you whisper.

“Nothing. He won’t bother you.” Vergil grabs his bag before moving to where his boots lay, leaning over to pull the laces. “I should go. I’ll see you—”

“Wait!” You run over and launch yourself, catching Vergil around the waist. He looks down in surprise as you hug him tightly, damp face pressed to his chest. “I’m sorry,” you murmur.

Vergil tilts your face up with a frown. He looks at your eyes, eyes that are free from any trace of demon, before stroking your cheek. “You don’t have to go,” you say, and Vergil nods, knowing that leaving is impossible now.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #vergil x reader #fan fiction #open for me

76 notes · View notes

jeranasblog · 3 years

Text

Starker Kink Advent Calendar - Day 23

Summary: Peter marries Tony because he wants to keep working. Tony marries Peter because he doesn’t want the boy’s brilliance to go to waste. Neither one of them expects an overwhelming attraction to unfold between them. Feelings, insecurities, and doubts tangle together until they find themselves inextricably linked. And what happens when a surprise turns everything upside down?

24 days, 24 chapters, 24 kinks

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark

Rating: E

Notes: Hey guys. I’ve decided to write a “Starker Kink Advent Calendar” this year, so 24 chapters with 24 different kinks. Enjoy <3

Warnings: Check all the sex tags on Ao3

Read on Ao3

~⭐~

Day 23 - Sex Toys

Tony didn’t want to leave Peter alone, but when the head of the charity event’s security approached Bucky and him, he knew it was serious. They were led to a small room next to the ballroom, and Tony couldn’t stop worrying about leaving his Omega alone.

“Calm down, Tony.” Bucky placed a hand on Tony’s biceps. “He’s fine. Steve is with him.”

Tony took a deep breath and nodded slightly. Bucky was right. Peter was in a room full of people, and Tony couldn’t dote on him 24/7. He knew his Omega was rolling his eyes at him sometimes, especially when Tony tried to stop him from carrying heavy things, but the Alpha couldn’t stop himself. His urge to protect Peter had always been strong and the pregnancy only made it worse.

Trying to focus on something else, Tony shifted his attention towards the head of security. “So, what's wrong, Mr. White?”

The man gestured at a young woman sitting in front of the computer before he looked at Bucky and Tony again.

“These are your cars, I suppose?”

On the wall was a huge screen that displayed security footage of the parking garage. The woman rewound the video and Tony could watch in detail how three figures dressed in black broke into Bucky’s and his car. They left with a previously empty backpack.

“What did they take?”

Mr. White looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry we haven’t seen them soon enough to stop them. They took your steering wheel, both of your radios, and a laptop that was in Mr. Barnes’ trunk.”

Tony knew he should have been angry, but he was too relieved that it was nothing worse. He could easily replace the stolen things and since Bucky was a partner of the successful law firm Lehmans & Barnes, it wouldn’t be a big financial problem for him either.

“We’ve already called the police. They’re going to be here soon.”

Bucky nodded and gave Mr. White a thankful smile. “Do they need our statements? I think Tony and I want to go back to our Omegas now, don’t we? Tony?”

But Tony couldn’t say a damn thing. Just when Bucky had asked if they had to wait for the police, Tony felt the distress of his mate so deeply that he didn’t care about his car in the least. The bond was screaming at Tony to protect his mate. He had to get back to Peter.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony didn’t care anymore what the man wanted to say while he ran towards the door. He didn’t even turn around, yelling the words over his shoulder. “Call my lawyer. He’ll handle it. I have to go to Peter.”

Mate. Distress. Help.

His instincts were driving him insane and Tony needed to find his Omega now. He could feel through the bond where Peter was while he made his way through the crowd in the ballroom, almost running towards the restrooms. Sensing emotions through a bond only happened when one of the mates was in serious danger.

“Peter?”

The restroom was almost empty, but Tony saw that one stall was locked and he could smell the distressed scent of his mate coming from there.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Tony.” Peter didn’t sound fine.

“I know you’re not fine. I can feel your distress through the mating bond.”

“The bond? But I’m not in danger- Oh, the baby.” Tony didn’t understand. Why was the bond screaming ‘danger’ at him if Peter wasn’t harmed?

“Peter? Baby, what’s going on? Please, let me in. I’m worried.”

As soon as Tony heard the click of the turning lock, he opened the door to get to his Omega. Peter was sitting on the closed toilet lid, his face wet from tears, and Tony pulled him into his arms immediately. Taking a seat on the lid himself, Tony pulled Peter onto his lap.

“What happened? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you? Threaten you? Is something wrong with the baby?” Tony couldn’t stop himself from freaking out so he took a whiff of Pete’s scent to calm down. He had to be strong for the Omega now.

“Nothing’s wrong with me or the baby, Alpha. No one tried to physically hurt me.”

“But why is the bond screaming that you’re in danger?” Tony asked, confused.

Peter lowered his gaze to the floor, guilt taking over his expression. “I’m sorry, I almost panicked. It can be dangerous for the baby, but I’m back in control again.”

Peter had panicked? Was it because Tony left him alone? He shouldn’t have left Peter alone with Steve in the first place.

“You panicked? Peter, what happened?”

“It’s stupid.” Peter took a deep breath before he continued. “There was this woman, said she knew you for years. She asked me what I did to you, how I bewitched you. She said you only love me because my pregnancy hormones mess with your alpha instincts.”

Tony felt rage boiling inside him, but he swallowed it before Peter could pick it up in his scent. He had to stay calm now or he would only increase Peter’s distress.

“Peter, baby, don’t listen to her.”

“I-Is that p-possible? The hormone stuff?” The Omega looked at him so heart-broken that Tony felt the sudden urge to murder the woman. He didn’t even know who Peter was talking about.

“Well, technically it is but not for us. Do you remember when I knocked you up?”

“During my heat?”

“I already felt something for you before. Hell, I already felt something for you before we even married. I didn’t know it was love back then, but it was already almost as intense as it is now.”

“Really?” The hint of hope in Peter’s voice made Tony smile.

“Really, baby. I love you. Please don’t doubt this.”

He would always love Peter, pregnant or not, pup or not. The woman had probably just been jealous, but Tony wouldn’t tolerate Peter doubting himself. He knew their relationship came with a lot of baggage, especially because they hadn’t married primarily out of love, but Tony would fight for Peter.

“Show me, Alpha?” Peter’s face was still wet with tears, but there was something else in his eyes, a dark sparkle.

“Of course, baby. Tell me what to do. I can go out there and tell everyone how much I love you. I can take you on a special date every week or shower you with jewels. Tell me what you want Peter.”

Tony’s heart clenched when Peter leaned forward so he could press his chest closer to Tony’s. The Omega hid his face against Tony’s neck, searching for the warmth of his Alpha.

“Fuck me here, Alpha. Plug me up with your seed. I want them to smell you on me.”

One day, the Omega would be Tony’s death. Peter had been sobbing a few minutes ago and only a moment later, Peter was already asking for Tony’s cock. This Omega was a god damn tease, made to tempt Tony.

Without climbing from Tony’s lap, Peter reached for the lock of the stall behind his back and shut the door with a click. No one would see them now, but they could still hear Peter’s moans, could still hear how good Tony was fucking his Omega. The thought was driving the Alpha feral and he ripped Peter’s suit pants and panties down until he had access to Peter’s dripping core.

“Without the plug, I would be dripping, Alpha,” Peter whispered into his ear and Tony couldn’t stop a growl that was escaping his lips. “Fuck me as soon as you pull out. I’m stretched enough. We don’t want to ruin your pants.”

And who was Tony to decline such a sweet request? Fumbling for his zipper turned out to be different while Peter rubbed himself against Tony’s chest like he did during his heat. When the zipper slipped from Tony’s fingers for the third time, he became impatient and immobilized Peter with a tight grip on his neck. The Omega moaned obscenely but sat still, giving Tony enough room to finally pull out his cock.

A second later, Peter already sunk down. Tony couldn’t move. He should be used to fucking Peter by now, but every time he got a taste of Peter’s wet heat, he was once again overwhelmed by how good his Omega felt. Tony took a deep breath and gathered the last bits of his control so he wouldn’t shoot after a minute like a teenager.

“You’re the sluttiest Omega I’ve ever met, sweet thing. One could think you would calm down a little as soon as you got pregnant but no, it only got worse. Couldn’t live a single day without my knot, could you?”

“Ngh, no, Alpha. Need you. Always.”

Peter already looked wrecked. His eyes were black and glossy, his hair disheveled and Tony knew a few more precise thrusts would be enough to catapult Peter to the sweet space, a space that made the Omega stupid with pleasure. Tony shifted his hips, just a little to the right, finding the perfect angle to hit Peter’s sweet spot. Peter lost it.

Nothing could hold the Omega back anymore. There was the sound of the opening door, someone was clearly entering the restroom, and Tony stilled his hips to keep quiet. But Peter, too far gone to think about anything but the thick cock in his dripping hole, couldn’t stop screaming.

“Alpha.”

Shit! Tony knew the stranger could hear him, hell, everyone in the ballroom had probably been able to hear Peter’s scream, but instead of being ashamed, Tony felt white-hot lust boiling inside of him. Everyone would know the Omega was his. Everyone would know that this fertile, knocked up Omega belonged to Tony Stark.

“Sing for me, Peter,” Tony teased while his hips picked up a rhythm again. “Come on my cock and cry out my name.”

Peter was close, Tony could feel it in the way his hips stuttered and his hole clenched. Without giving Peter a break, Tony assaulted his sweet spot, coaxing out his Omega’s orgasm before the man would leave. Just a little bit more, just a second, just one thrust against Peter’s sweet spot…

The Omega came louder than ever before, clenching so tightly around Tony’s cock that he pulled Tony over the edge as well. Every little shudder, every wave coaxed more and more of Tony’s seed out of his twitching cock, and the Alpha had to bite Peter’s shoulder to stop himself from pressing the knot into the tight heat. They couldn’t sit here tied together for an hour.

Peter came down slowly, taking his time to regain awareness of his surroundings again. He was still far gone when Tony slipped out to replace his cock with the plug. Tony held him close the entire time.

When Peter was finally there again, Tony expected an ashamed blush on his Omega’s face, but there was nothing but a sated smile. A small voice whispered at the Alpha that Peter had done it on purpose, that he wanted everyone to hear, and the thought filled Tony with warmth. As outspoken possessive as Tony was, Peter wanted to claim him as well.

Fifteen minutes later, Peter walked over to a woman that looked familiar to Tony, but the Alpha couldn’t remember when he had seen her before. The Omega pulled Tony along until they were standing directly in front of her, close enough that she could smell Tony’s claim on Peter. Peter leaned forward, bringing his lips close enough to her ear that no one but Tony and the woman could hear him.

“Tony loves me. He had loved me even before he had knocked me up, regardless of what you told me. Tony is mine. I have his mark on my neck, I have his child in my belly, and I am plugged with his seed. Go and look for another Alpha. Good night.”

When Peter turned around, leaving with his head held high, not only the woman was dumbfounded. Tony was speechless as well.

#starker #advent calendar

14 notes · View notes

pocket-luv101 · 4 years

Text

Across Time || Chapter 27

Fandom: Servamp Ships: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru, Hyde, Licht

Summary: Mahiru falls into a well and is taken to a new, fantasy world. He comes across a half-blooded cat demon trapped in a tree. After he frees Kuro, he helps him collect the shards of the sacred jewel. (KuroMahi, InuYasha AU)

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3 || Ch.4 || Ch.5 || Ch.6 || Ch.7 || Ch.8 || Ch.9 || Ch.10 || Ch.11 || Ch.12 || Ch.13 || Ch.14 || Ch.15 || Ch.16 || Ch.17 || Ch.18 || Ch.19 || Ch.20 || Ch.21 || Ch.22 || Ch.23 || Ch.24 || Ch.25 || Ch.26 || (Ch.27) ||

A bright light filtered through Mahiru’s eyelids and it pulled him out of his sleep. As he slowly regained consciousness, he became more aware of how stiff his body felt. Mahiru opened his eyes and he was confused when he saw the industrial light above him. He had become accustomed to seeing a blue sky whenever he woke. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming.

Mahiru moved his hand and he felt a light grip around it. He turned his head to find Kuro sleeping beside him in a chair. He also realized that he was in a hospital room and they were in his era again. Kuro must’ve taken him back through the well after the fight with Mikuni. Memories of the night came back to him and he tried to sit up. His body refused to move and he groaned slightly.

His voice woke Kuro and he jumped to his feet. He leaned over him and carefully ran his fingers through Mahiru’s brown hair. With his era’s advanced technology, he thought it was best to take him back to his time to treat his wounds. Kuro couldn’t remember the last time he had been so scared. Even now, he was afraid that the slightest touch would hurt him.

“You’re awake.” He whispered as a reassurance to himself more. Kuro brushed his bangs from his forehead and then pressed a soft kiss to the spot. His uncle drove them to a large building and Kuro didn’t understand what they intended to do to help Mahiru. The doctors didn’t allow him to see him until an hour after they took him to another room.

“How long have I been sleeping? Are Tsurugi and the others safe as well? I purified the castle but I don’t know if it was enough to break the spell over them. Touma was there and—” Mahiru paused when Kuro placed his finger against his lips. His warm hand calmed him and Mahiru took a shaky breath. He closed his eyes and leaned into his hand. “He took my jewel shards.”

“We’ll get them back. Don’t think about the sacred jewel or Touma and focus on recovering instead, Mahiru. You used too much of your spiritual energy and I was worried that it would damage your heart. The doctor said you’re fine though.” He made a weak smile. Mahiru stretched out his arms to him and Kuro climbed onto the bed to accept his silent invitation. He hugged him and rested his head against his chest to listen to his heart beat.

Mahiru reached up to touch Kuro’s cat ears but he had a hood pulled over his head. He understood that he had to hide them because doctors would question why a man had cat ears. He slipped his hands beneath his hood and threaded his fingers through his hair until he could scratch his ears. Kuro started to purr and Mahiru chuckled lightly at the sound. His laughter ran through his chest and Kuro could feel it.

Kuro sat up and his bell rang between them. The sound drew Mahiru’s attention to the pouch he wore and the jewel shards glowed through the fabric. They had fought countless battles to collect the shards yet Touma took them from him so easily. He was already injured and he couldn’t use his spiritual power at the time. Mahiru still felt guilty.

“Are you thinking about what happened? Mikuni made that trap to take all of our jewel shards but you were the one who stopped him. Your arrow broke his spell and he ran away after that.” Kuro knew how Mahiru took on too much responsibility and he wished he would acknowledge his own strength. “We’ll go back and make a plan with Hyde and Licht later. For now, rest.”

“I don’t know if I can relax.” Mahiru admitted and laid back against the pillow. “Who knows how many shards Touma has now that he had stolen my half? He might have a majority of the sacred jewel now.”

He thought of what Touma told him before he took his jewels. He called him weak like his mother. What kind of relationship did they have and why did he resent him? His mother briefly appeared with a pinkish glow around her. He didn’t know if she was truly his mother or the version of her that lived in the past. He recalled how she also protected him from the centipede demon.

Mahiru was pulled out of his thoughts when Kuro took his hand. “I asked your uncle if there was anything that I could do to distract you from what happened and help you feel better. He said I should take out on a date so you would have a break from collecting the jewel shards. I don’t know what a ‘date’ is but I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

“A date isn’t a place. People in your time would call it a part of courting where you take your lover somewhere for fun. It doesn’t matter where as long as we’re together.” He explained. They spent a lot of time together while collecting the jewel shards but they haven’t been able to go on a conventional date. Mahiru wanted to spend time with him on a date, he didn’t know if it was the right time.

Kuro placed his finger beneath his chin and he turned his head to face him. His red eyes were earnest and Mahiru felt his heart quicken. Kuro could see how hesitant he was and he moved his hand to hold Mahiru’s. He gave him a tender squeeze before he said, “You uncle also told me that you like simple dates like going to the movies or eating out.”

“I know a local place that has great ramen and somen where we can eat.” Mahiru said. “But I need to be discharged from the hospital before I can leave. They’ll probably want to do a few tests and speak with me. I don’t know how to explain to them that a wind sorcerer threw me against the wall.”

“Your uncle told them that you fell off your bike. He’s in the cafeteria right now and I’ll go tell him that you’re awake. I’m sure you want to talk to him after being gone so long.” Kuro stood up and kissed his forehead before he left. His consideration touched his heart and Mahiru glanced at the chair beside his bed. He had likely stayed beside him the entire night.

Mahiru called to Kuro as he opened the door. “I’m looking forward to our date, Kuro.”

Licht studied the strange contraption that he often saw Mahiru use to travel. He had never seen something similar before. Mahiru called it a bike and it was unique to his village. He didn’t explain much about the bike and Licht wondered if it was a demon in disguise or a strange wagon. He touched the cold metal and closed his eyes to listen for a heartbeat. “What are you, Mr. Bike?”

Something tickled his neck and Licht instinctively flinched away from the touch. He almost fell into the bike but an arm caught him before he could be hurt. Licht wasn’t surprised after he heard Hyde chuckle in his ear. The demon seemed to enjoy sneaking up behind him to play small tricks. He was more confused with himself since he hadn’t sensed him approach him.

Kirara hadn’t warned him about Hyde behind him either. Instead, the cat demon reached out its tiny paw to him and purred happily. He reasoned that she didn’t warn him because she trusted him after all the time they spent together. Licht petted Kirara and he hated to admit that he felt the same. They were so accustomed to Hyde’s presence that they didn’t react to his approach. Despite everything he learned as a demon slayer, he considered Hyde a new comrade.

“Are Kuro and Mahiru back from their mysterious village?” Licht asked and moved out of Hyde’s arms. Kuro had immediately taken Mahiru back to his village and he forgot to bring the bike and backpack in his rush. He brought the two items back to Toru’s village for them. “I wonder if Mahiru is also from a village of demon slayers for Kuro to keep their location a secret. He didn’t allow anyone to follow him and he destroyed his tracks.”

“Who would believe a lazy bastard like my brother would go through so much trouble for a human? Even though he was panicked, he thought of Mahiru’s wish to keep his village a secret. I was curious about the place since Mahiru is different. I considered tracking him but I’m sure Kuro would be mad if I did. Mahiru must be something.” Hyde joked but Licht started to feel strange. He was jealous of how he spoke of Mahiru. Licht respected Mahiru and he knew Hyde only saw him as a friend yet the feelings turned his stomach.

He looked away from him and flicked the bike pedal. Licht wanted to push aside the confusing feelings to focus on the twirling pedal. Then, he felt Hyde’s large hand on his head and he tousled his hair. He looked back to see him grinning. “As strange as Mahiru is, he can never be as unique as an angel. I’ve never heard of a demon slayer with a pet nekomata.”

“I didn’t know Kirara was a demon at first. She wandered into my crib when I was a toddler and I assumed she was a regular cat. I adopted her. According to my mother, I cried loud enough to attract demons when they tried to take her away from me.” Licht slipped the cat from his shoulder and cradled her in his arms. “She’s my family and I didn’t want to be separated from her.”

“Kirara adores you too. She’s not fully grown and intelligent like other nekomata but I can understand her when she purrs.” As Hyde petted the cat, he leaned closer to Licht without thinking. “I heard you talking to ‘Mr. Bike’. This thing is probably a tool for travelling though. It doesn’t have a demon presence and Mahiru doesn’t talk to it like he would a pet.”

“Mahiru sits on it like a horse.” Licht picked up the bike and he imitated how Mahiru would sit on it. He swung his leg over the seat but he found it difficult to balance on the bike. The wheels were thin and the ground was uneven. “Mahiru places his feet on these two stirrups. Will it go forward if I press on them?”

The moment he took his feet off the ground to press the pedal, the bike started to tilt sideways. Hyde reached out to stop the bike from falling but then he felt a sharp pain on his feet. Licht had hastily placed his foot on the ground for balance and he accidentally stepped on him. The spikes on his boots made the pain worse. He saw him wince but he didn’t become angry like he expected. Hyde only laughed.

“Maybe we should wait until Mahiru comes back so he can properly teach you how to ride that bike.” He playfully ruffled his hair again. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested in the bike. You already have Kirara and she’s faster than this contraption.”

“Kirara is wonderful. She’s the fastest nekomata alive and she can even fly.” Licht agreed and nodded proudly. He petted the cat on his shoulder but his smile became tainted with regret. “We weren’t fast enough to reach the castle before Kuro and Mahiru were attacked by the wind sorcerer. I’m supposed to be the fastest in my family but I was too slow again.”

Hyde knew that he was thinking of his father who had also died in one of Touma’s traps. He didn’t know what he could say to comfort him. He placed his hands on the bike and Licht sat in the loose circle of his embrace. “In a fair fight, angels always win. Touma doesn’t fight fair though. When Mahiru sent that familiar to us, it couldn’t take us to the castle because of the barrier.”

“That’s what I hate most about demons. They can never be honest and resort to tricks when fighting us. Demons already have an advantage with their power and we tried to fight back with our numbers. We worked so hard but that demon…” Licht looked up and his words trailed off. He was a demon and he would feel offended that he had insulted his kind. Hyde was different from the demons he fought and he forgot that he was an oni. “I was talking about Touma.”

“I’m a demon and I’ve used cowardly tricks too.” Hyde snapped his fingers and a wind circled them. He let go of the bike but his wind kept it from falling again. Licht cautiously placed his foot on the peddle and pushed down on it to make the bike crawl forward. Hyde walked beside him. “With my knowledge as a demon and a monk, I’ll strip Touma of any tricks he could use. The only thing left is for an angel to purify him. Then, we’ll both have our revenge.”

“A demon slayer, an oni monk, a priest and a half demon. We make a strange team, don’t we?” Licht chuckled and the subtle tilt of his lips was surprisingly attractive. He rarely smiled and Hyde wondered what he could do to see the expression more. An eccentric demon slayer shouldn’t affect him so much when he already promised that he wouldn’t become attached to a human again.

Kirara jumped off his shoulder and shifted into its larger body. He was confused when it growled at them since it was rarely aggressive. Licht stepped off the bike and he walked to the large cat. He reached out to it but Kirara walked past him to the bike and picked it up in her mouth. He watched Kirara carry the bike towards the river and he realized its intention too late.

Kirara dropped Mahiru’s bike into the water.

“Bad girl, why would you do that?” Licht ran into the lake to retrieve the bike before it could be carried away by the current. A small tug on his shirt stopped him and he looked back to Kirara. She whined softly and he wished that he understood what she wanted to tell him. Kirara rarely misbehave so he couldn’t guess why she would throw the bike into the lake. “What is it, Kirara?”

“She got jealous that you were riding on the bike instead of her.” Hyde told him and he had chuckled at the situation.

“You should know that I could never replace you. You’re my family. But Mahiru’s also our family and he’ll be sad if something happens to his bike. Let’s get it and then we can take a ride around the village.” Licht reassured the cat and stroked its fur. Hyde imagined if he held him and he found that he was the one to feel jealous. He didn’t want to be a companion to Licht like Kirara was though.

“You need to catch the noodles, Kuro. I thought you would be better at this since you love ramen and you have cat-like reflexes. Here, you can have this one.” Mahiru used his chopsticks to catch the cluster of nagashi somen that slid down the bamboo shoot. He dipped the noodles into the broth and then brought it to Kuro’s mouth to feed him. He took Kuro to a restaurant that offered a variety of noodles for their date. “How does it taste?”

“Good. You said you were a cook for a restaurant. Did you make dishes like this? The food at this restaurant tastes different from yours. I would like to taste yours since the food you make back home has a different seasoning. It’s simple but good too.” While Mahiru brought him cup ramen to eat, Kuro also enjoyed when he would cook for them.

“I actually work in a curry shop but I know how to make noodles like this. Once we have an opportunity like this again, I’ll make somba from scratch for you. It would be difficult for me to carry all the supplies I need to make homemade noodles to the past.” Mahiru offered. “My uncle bought this toy version of a bamboo shoot where you can slide down noodles like this. Maybe I can find it for the occasion.”

Mahiru had a bright smile whenever he spoke of his uncle and Kuro couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to him in that moment. He brushed his bangs from his forehead so he could see his brown eyes better. His casual touch caused Mahiru to pause as if he were spellbound. They were always together in the feudal era but his touch felt more intimate now that they were on an official date.

“Is there something on my face, Kuro?” Mahiru tried to hide that he was blushing by rubbing a napkin over his cheek. The action only drew Kuro’s attention to his lips and he forced himself to turn back to his bowl. He was tempted to kiss him but he didn’t know if he should with so many people around them.

“Pardon me,” A voice came between them and Kuro leaned away from Mahiru. A waiter held up a pitcher of water and asked, “Would you like me to refill your glasses?”

“Yes, thank you. We’re finished eating so can you get us our bill? The food was great.” Mahiru said and reached for his wallet to pay for the meal. He was a little confused when Kuro stopped him by placing his hand over his.

“I’ll pay for the food. Your uncle said that it’s my responsibility to take care of you as your mate.” Kuro told him. Mahiru didn’t know how he intended to pay the bill when he didn’t have money from his era. He was happy that his uncle supported their relationship but he hoped he didn’t give him money to pay for their date. Then, Kuro said: “I have a rare mummified kappa claw and that should be enough.”

“Wait, you have what?” Mahiru saw him pull a claw out his pocket and he started to panic. He could only imagine the panic that would occur after they saw the claw. He needed to stop him. “Sit, Kuro!”

“Sorry about using the incarnation on you, Kuro. The waiter would’ve freaked out if they saw a demon’s hand. I might’ve caused a bigger scene by using the spell though.” Mahiru and Kuro held hands as they walked home from the restaurant. It was night and Kuro was surprised by how bright the street was with the lanterns lining the path. Mahiru moved closer to him and leaned his head against his arm.

“Are you cold?” Kuro took off his red robe and placed it over Mahiru’s shoulders. He slipped his arms through the sleeve and drew the fabric to his nose. Mahiru wasn’t cold but he liked the opportunity to wear his jacket and walk close to him. No matter if they were exploring the feudal era or having a simple walk in the modern world, he was happy to spend time with Kuro.

“We ate a lot. How about we burn off all those calories by playing in the park?” Mahiru took his hand and led Kuro into the park across the street. Most would find the park childish but he wanted to see what his reaction would be. The feudal era didn’t have playgrounds with swings and slides. He experienced new things in Kuro’s time and he wanted to give him a similar experience.

Since it was late, the park was empty and they were the only two in the area. Mahiru sat on a swing and lightly kicked off the ground. “I don’t know if you have something similar to playgrounds like this. There are forests next to the village where kids can play and explore. We don’t have as many vast landscapes like you do. Sit on the swing next to me, Kuro.”

He accidentally used the incarnation and he jumped forward to stop him from crashing into the dirt. Mahiru hugged him but the power of the spell was stronger than he expected and he was pulled to the ground as well. He fell onto his back but he wasn’t hurt by Kuro. Kuro caught himself before he could fall on top of Mahiru.

They laid on the ground but Mahiru found himself laughing. He reached up to play with the bell hanging from his neck and rang it lightly. “When we have the chance to speak with my uncle in the past again, we should ask him how to break the incarnation. He cast the spell so you wouldn’t try to steal the jewel from me. We don’t have to worry about that so you don’t need this.”

“The incarnation is troublesome but I want to keep the bell. It’s the first thing you gave me.” He said and sat up. Mahiru had his arms around his neck and he moved with Kuro. He tightened his hold around him lightly and thought of how well they fit together. His arms made him feel safe and protected and Mahiru didn’t want to let go of him.

“You know, Kuro, when you said that you talk to me uncle, I was a little scared. I thought you two would’ve said that I should stay in my time here. Touma was able to take my jewel shards from me.” Mahiru placed his hand over his heart where he would wear the necklace that held his shards. “Without the shards, I can never go back or see you again. That scares me more than Touma.”

“I can never leave you behind again.” Kuro took off his jewel shards and slipped it around Mahiru’s neck. He cupped his face and leaned down to kiss his forehead. The fight before them was dangerous but he understood Mahiru’s wish to face the challenge together. He was the strongest person he knew yet he would fight for him and future together. “I won’t let Touma or anyone else hurt you again.”

“Touma didn’t hurt me and I think it was because my mother was there. She also protected us from the centipede demon the night we met. At first, I thought I hallucinated her but there could be a chance she’s still alive. Touma wasn’t surprised to see Mother so he must know something. I want to talk to him.” Mahiru decided. “It’ll be more difficult to defeat him than simply killing him.”

“It’ll be troublesome but we’ll find a way.” Kuro agreed to his plan quicker than Mahiru expected but his answer warmed his heart. “We should head home before demons come out. It’s night. I don’t know what kind of demons live in this park but I would rather not fight them.”

“My time doesn’t have demons but it is rather late. I wanted to enjoy the park but I think there’s something you’ll enjoy more. I like sleeping under the stars with you but you haven’t tried sleeping in a bed. It’s more comfortable then the ground.” Mahiru hugged Kuro’s arm and grinned up at him. “I don’t usually have sex on the first date but I’ll make an exception for you, Kuro.”

“There’s no rush to go back so we can stay the night.” He leaned down and kissed him softly.

#servamp #kuromahi #lawlicht #sloth pair #greed pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #servamp hyde #licht jekylland todoroki #fanfiction

16 notes · View notes