#// going at a full gallop is fun but you still have to keep your eyes open bit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mistypurplespark · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 30: Autumn Close

Chapter 30.1: Autumn Close

"I’m praising your beauty! You Hu people really are unromantic!"

Translator(s): Zryuu

Editor(s): juurensha

Alas, worrying too much wouldn't do anyone good. Chen Xing had liked going to festivals the most during his childhood, but sadly, he had been taken to remote mountains back then. He naturally wanted to have fun after being isolated for so many years.

"Then," Chen Xing said, "do you remember saying that as long as I cured Che Luofeng, you would do anything?"

"You finally brought this up?" Xiang Shu said. "I've been waiting for you to say this sentence for quite some time. You want me to be your Protector, right? Since I have promised, I will naturally keep my word."

Chen Xing, who didn't think Xiang Shu would accept in such a straightforward manner, was totally surprised.

Xiang Shu: "I've been thinking about what you said these days."

Chen Xing: "Hey, sober up, that's not what I want. What kind of person do you think I am? Is there any meaning in forcing you to be my Protector when your heart is unwilling?"

It was Xiang Shu's turn to be surprised; he frowned as he looked at Chen Xing with eyes full of suspicion.

Chen Xing smiled and spoke, "Take me to tomorrow's Autumn Close Festival and let's have fun, okay?"

Xiang Shu fixed his gaze at Chen Xing. After staying silent for a long time,

he finally replied, "All right."

On the day of the Autumn Close Festival, an unprecedented grand event was held in Chi Le Chuan. After stacking their good wine, beef, and mutton in a cleared-out, vacant area, all of the tribes set up a li-long table for people to eat and drink. The sixteen Hus hosted nearly ten venues, with horse- galloping, equestrian archery, wrestling, bull-taming, and so on... in short, it was a rowdy party!

Chen Xing, cheering as soon as he saw such a lively scene, went to the side of the venue teeming with people while Xiang Shu was preparing the shooting-arrow ceremony as a way to worship heaven. Chen Xing wandered around for a long time; he cheered loudly at the lively wrestling venue and went to gamble with some Hus using his medical funds. Winning a lot, he then bought a wine-colored pony from some Xiongnus and rode all over the place.

"Divine Doctor!" A Tiele youth who had been searching for him for half a day hurriedly called. "The Great Chanyu is looking for you! Quickly go to the platform!"

"Xiang Shu!" Chen Xing shouted. "What do you think of the horse I just bought?"

Many people had already gathered in front of the platform at that time Chen Xing led the horse and went over. Xiang Shu, who stood on the high platform wielding a jade bow in his hand, was dressed in a set of Tiele armor made of pure gold that wrapped and emphasized his beautiful chest and his attractive, neat abdominal muscles. He said with a face full of anger, "You were the one saying you wanted me to take you out to play, but you vanished first thing in the morning!"

Chen Xing smiled as he looked at Xiang Shu who stood tall on the platform; when he leaned slightly sideway, he truly looked like a jade tree facing the wind. He racked his brain for a while, but out of all the poems, books, and writings he had learned all his life, none had the proper words to describe him with.

"Here comes a gentleman, who is as beautiful as flowers." As he approached Xiang Shu, Chen Xing felt his heart was beating violently to the point he became a little breathless. Yet even though his heart was like a

raging sea, he still pretended to have a calm, smiling expression on the surface.

"What?" Xiang Shu raised his eyebrows in confusion and questioned him. Chen Xing jumped onto the stage and helped Xiang Shu fix his armor.

"I'm praising your beauty!" Chen Xing said. "You Hu people really are unromantic!"

When Chen Xing reached the edge of the platform, the people below began to whistle. Xiang Shu then pointed his finger toward the back, motioning for Chen Xing to move a bit and watch from the rear.

Che Luofeng, also going up the platform, shouted, "Shall we start?"

After receiving Xiang Shu's signal, Che Luofeng started ordering people, and soon enough, the Rouran trumpeters around the platform blew their horns one after another. The Hu people in the entire Chi Le Covenant immediately stopped what they were doing and rushed toward the central platform all at once.

Che Luofeng brought over a pair of wild geese, which were tied together with a red string around their necks, with a palm-sized golden gong hanging in the center of the connecting rope.

Chen Xing said, "What are you going to do?"

With a jade bow in hand, Xiang Shu said in a deep voice, "Keep your eyes wide open."

Chen Xing: "One arrow, two birds? Don't ba, can you even hit it? What if you miss?"

Xiang Shu: "I would lose my face if I did."

Chen Xing: "No... even if it hit, what mistake did the geese do? The geese are innocent!"

Xiang Shu, using Tiele language, announced the beginning of the Autumn Close Festival in a clear voice, yet out of hundreds of thousands of densely packed people below the platform, none of them cheered.

Che Luofeng shouted "go!" as he released his hands to set the geese free. The geese cried out simultaneously as they spread their wings and flew toward the horizon!

In just a moment, the geese, which had initially been pulling one another, began to fly in circles. Not long after that, they were finally able to synchronize their movements and quickly became a small black spot.

The 300,000 people down the platform held their breath seeing Xiang Shu slowly drawing his longbow. Chen Xing, stunned, merely thought, Do you really have the ability to do that?!

After turning around a full circle, Xiang Shu immediately pulled the bow into a full-moon arc; borrowing the force of the rotation, he titled the longbow toward the sky. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, three arrows were then fired in succession!

That day in Chang'an City, Xiang Shu had been able to shoot the Yin Yang Mirrors in Feng Qianyi's hands from a distance of a hundred steps. That itself could already be considered magical, but it never crossed Chen Xing's mind that he would actually try shooting a golden gong in the air with an arrow!

As the geese flew higher, Xiang Shu released the last arrow.

The first arrow hit, breaking the red rope and making the golden gong fall from the sky. The second arrow hit, and a 'bang' sound echoed.

Another 'bang' and the third arrow also hit the mark!

The last arrow then caught up; it bore through the gong with a force that shook up the surrounding!

Suddenly, an earth-shattering cheer coming from the Hus resounded on the field, seemingly able to shake even the sky. Xiang Shu put down his bow. The gathering below reached its climax, with the atmosphere getting a little

bit out of control. Be it man or woman, young or old, they all sang and danced merrily just like a tide that moved in all directions. Che Luofeng laughed out loud and grabbed Xiang Shu's hand. Xiang Shu, throwing the jade bow, beckoned for Chen Xing to come; he grabbed his wrist, and the three men ran off the platform.

Good wine and delicacies were all over the place. Chen Xing got pushed around when people began snatching for wine; he had already drunk a lot before, and the strength of the wine made him a little dizzy. Che Luofeng shouted something, but Xiang Shu said, "Drink less! I don't want to carry you back!"

"It doesn't matter!" Chen Xing yelled.

Xiang Shu cleared out the crowd. Che Luofeng handed Chen Xing another bowl of wine, but Xiang Shu took and drank it instead. Chen Xing said, "Che Luofeng, you're still not well, drink less."

Someone handed Che Luofeng another wine, but Xiang Shu leaned on the table and took it again, drinking it until the last drop on his behalf this time. The Hus was in a big uproar. Che Luofeng, laughing so loud, pressed Xiang Shu down on the table before bowing his head with the intention to kiss him.

Chen Xing: "......"

The crowd got even more excited thanks to that, laughing one after the other. Xiang Shu raised his hand to resist, and before Che Luofeng could manage to kiss his lips, he lifted his foot and kicked Che Luofeng aside. "Get lost!"

Chen Xing had also laughed along, but for some reason, he felt a slight, indescribable pain in his heart; it was as if it had been squeezed, as though his drunkenness had made him unable to breathe.

Che Luofeng, who was lying on the ground, yelled out "aiya!" again and again. Afraid that he had accidentally kicked his wound, Xiang Shu rushed forward to examine him. Chen Xing hurriedly said, "Let me see?"

But Che Luofeng just smiled and pushed Chen Xing away. Shouting in Rouran language that he wanted to wrestle with Xiang Shu, he thus bounced up and stood astride behind him, only for Xiang Shu to grab him instead. Although Xiang Shu disliked his nonsense, he didn't want to fight him; he just waved his hand, wanting to leave, but Che Luofeng stopped him.

"Shulü Kong!" Che Luofeng smiled as he shouted. "I want to challenge you! If I win, I'll become the Great Chanyu! You fight me with one hand!"

The Rouran youngsters all shouted in unison, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Xiang Shu sneered and simply put one hand behind his back.

The field was immediately surrounded by people that obscured Chen Xing's view.

Chen Xing put down his bowl; as he heard the cheers coming from inside the circle, he felt a sense of loneliness that came abruptly and seemed to follow him relentlessly. He turned away from the table, walked out of the crowd, and went to the southern end of Chi Le Chuan.

What's wrong with me? Chen Xing felt baffled as a heavy feeling suddenly seized him. A dark color covered the once blue sky, as if signaling that a snowstorm was coming.

He climbed up the haystack and sat down quietly, thinking that he had never felt so melancholy as he was now. Is this homesickness? But, where is my home?

Chen Xing, sinking inside the haystack, just lay down with a straw in his mouth and gazed at the gray sky. But then, he suddenly heard the loud cries of the Hus.

Chen Xing felt a little irritated, and the original lively scene suddenly became dull. When he recalled the sight of Xiang Shu's valiant and formidable appearance, he became slightly unhappy as if he was robbed of his own possessions. His heart was in utter chaos, the feelings all tangled into a mess.

As the shouts grew nearer and nearer, Chen Xing became even more aggravated. He sat up and shouted, "So noisy! What are you up to?!"

He saw a group of on-duty guards ran toward the prairie and made a fan shape as they shouted loudly. Chen Xing, whose thought was interrupted by this unforeseen event, looked around in confusion; he jumped down the haystack and rode to the center of the encirclement on his little colt.

There, dozens of Rouran cavalry surrounded a person. The visitor, dressed in a black cloak with a face covered with some linen, was holding a long cudgel as they warily looked at the cavalry.

Chen Xing, with his still butchered Rouran language, thus asked, "Who's that?"

Almost everyone in Chi Le Chuan knew him; they made room a bit when they saw Chen Xing coming. But as soon as the unexpected visitor saw Chen Xing, they called out, "Tianchi!"

Translator's Comment:

OK, I’ve been in this pit for so very long and see no exit at all… so when Zryuu tempted me to help around, guess who fell right into the trap. Anywaaaaaaaay, hello everyone! Let me assure you that Dinghai is a MASTERPIECE and you will NOT regret reading it! I’m always open to some fangirling too, so just ping me on Discord or Twitter and I’ll scream with you happily.

Also, we are working on translating and subbing Tianbao Audio Drama Season 1 and some of the AD baits snippets should be out within a week. Tianbao is Dinghai’s sequel which is set around 400 years after Dinghai, you can see it here.

15/10/2021:More than 2 years later and I finally edited this since I just realized there were so many awkward phrasings. I had just begun translating at that time, so most likely I was still juggling to find the balance between keeping and getting the flow right, more so because I really had no previous experience other than writing… reports… (since I will only be

editing the subsequent chapters whenever I have the time… please forgive me in advance, new readers T_T)

Chapter 30.2: Autumn Close

"Justsaytheword,andIwillpromiseyouanything.Whateveryouaskme to do, I will do it."

Translator(s): Zryuu

Editor(s): juurensha

The visitor took off their mask and hood, showing his bright eyes, red lips, and white teeth. He said with a smile, “I’ve found you at last!”

“Tuoba Yan?” Chen Xing didn’t expect he would be able to meet Tuoba Yan here. He immediately dismounted his horse and ran over quickly. Tuoba Yan also got off his horse, laughed heartily, and embraced Chen Xing.

“I heard that The Great Chanyu took you back here to Chi Le Chuan,” Tuoba Yan said, “I asked for His Majesty’s permission to come here and find you.”

Chen Xing hurriedly motioned to the crowd that this was his friend. The Rouran cavalry’s faces quickly changed when they heard the words. They saluted and left one after another.

“Celebrating the Autumn Close Festival?” Tuoba Yan looked around.

The little discontent in Chen Xing’s heart was now swept away by the arrival of Tuoba Yan. Once again seeing a friend, he was now filled with joy. He laughed and said: “Yes, why did you travel so far without sending any letters first? Are you alone?”

Tuoba Yan nodded, and putting his hand on Chen Xing’s shoulder, he led his horse slowly towards Chi Le Chuan while asking, “How are you doing? They respected you so deeply, is it because of the Great Chanyu?”

“Him?” Chen Xing sneered, gave him a rough sketch of what had happened these past few days, then asked, “Should I get someone call Xiang Shu?”

Tuoba Yan felt a little worried. He looked at the distance, then back at Chen Xing.

“How is the court?” Chen Xing asked again, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Tuoba Yan brought news regarding the Central Plains. Actually, there was nothing special. After Xiang Shu and Chen Xing left, Fu Jian returned to Weiyang Palace, and the drought fiends scurried away in confusion. The almost-destroyed Weiyang Palace nearly made Fu Jian vomit up blood. He had to rebuild it as soon as possible. Murong Chong stayed overnight in the palace, and in the end, he was persuaded by Fu Jian to not come and make trouble with Xiang Shu for the time being.

With only one condition: Arrest Feng Qianjun and hand him over to Murong’s family to be taken care of.

From what Fu Jian and the rest of the civil and martial officials understood, it was quite clear that Murong’s family now held a big grudge against Xiang Shu. The only reason they didn’t push the issue with Xiang Shu was just because they feared the Ancient Covenant behind him. After all, every single Hu had all been in a ‘you-kill-me-I-kill-you’ mode for so many years, fighting and killing each other in a never-ending cycle. After entering the pass, they still held onto much animosity and deep hatred. Knowing that Xiang Shu had such a big power behind him, Fu Jian’s only hope was only to try calming things down for now. They would get a chance to fix things later.

But still, in order to preserve Murong Chong’s face, and because Princess Qinghe’s death was shady and couldn’t be explained to the whole world, Fu Jian issued an arrest warrant to hunt Feng Qianjun down.

“He already left,” Chen Xing said.

“I know,” Tuoba Yan answered. “Later, I asked His Majesty for a writ of amnesty. At that time, the one who did it was the Great Chanyu, and the one who plotted it was the Feng’s family, but it had nothing to do with you... I also already informed Murong Chong’s side, you can rest assured.”

Chen Xing was slightly confused and just nodded his head, thanking him.

Tuoba Yan spoke: “I said that I wished to bring you back, and His Majesty told me to come and talk to you myself.”

“Where to?” Chen Xing asked.

“Back to Chang’an.” Tuoba Yan said, “Don’t you want to go back? With me, nobody would dare trouble you.”

Chen Xing suddenly understood, and he laughed. Tuoba Yan lowered his head slightly and looked at him seriously. With the space between his eyebrows showing his youthful spirit, Chen Xing felt he was very cute.

“Have a drink?” Chen Xing said, “They’re celebrating a holiday. The wine is delicious.”

“Good!” Tuoba Yan quickly spoke, “I haven’t been to the Autumn Close Festival for a long time!”

Chen Xing took Tuoba Yan back to the venue. After drinking, all tribes had started to trip over and fall down, talking about love and speaking in endearments. Other than the autumn harvest, the Autumn Close Festival also served as a means for those bold young men and women ‘to love each other’. The Hu men began to chase after the women, doing things they dared not do normally and saying things they dared not say normally. The atmosphere was really quite charming at times. Standing in front of a table full of wine, the ten thousand flirtatious feelings under Chi Le Chuan could truly be felt.

Chen Xing took some wine and gave it to Tuoba Yan to drink. Contrary to his expectations, Tuoba Yan had good tolerance. Carrying the wine jar, he went to the riverside, and under a tree, he first drank half a jar, then looked at Chen Xing. His face was red.

“Tianchi,” Tuoba Yan said, “I have something to say to you. Since that day in the royal study, when His Majesty mentioned to you... mentioned that... following that event, I’ve been thinking for a long time.”

Chen Xing naturally understood what Tuoba Yan truly meant. Else, why would he still chase him all the way to Chi Le Chuan even after they had left Chang’an? It was nothing much if he had only wanted to send word from Fu Jian, but the first sentence he said after meeting him was “I came to find you,” and not anything else. This truly touched Chen Xing’s heart.

“I know what you’re trying to say.” Chen Xing laughed, “Come, say it.”

Chen Xing took the initiative to take Tuoba Yan’s wine jar and drink it. Tuoba Yan was stunned by Chen Xing.

“You’re really beautiful,” Tuoba Yan said with a smile. “Tianchi, come home with me, ba. I’ve always wanted to get married to someone like you. Just say the word, and I will promise you anything. Whatever you ask me to do, I will do it."

“Tuoba-xiong,” Chen Xing sighed and looked straight into Tuoba Yan’s eyes, “Thank you for coming from a thousand miles away for me. When leaving Chang’an, there’s one thing I forgot. That is, to return this to you.”

Then, Chen Xing poured a bit of honey wine on the top of his hand, took off the ring that was given to him by Tuoba Yan, and then handed it out to him.

Tuoba Yan was silent. Chen Xing took his hand and put the ring in the palm of his hand.

“Alright,” Tuoba Yan said.

“Give it to someone else ba,” Chen Xing said. “Give it to a person which, as soon as you see them, makes you think that in all your life, if it’s not them, there won’t be anybody else.”

“You are that person,” Tuoba Yan said.

“No,” Chen Xing said with a smile, “I’m not. I just happen to be an individual that is in line with the one in your mind; the person you feel is 'right' and the one you think you should marry, nothing more.”

Tuoba Yan was puzzled and looked at Chen Xing, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. Chen Xing, with a touch of melancholy, continued: “You don’t

understand. You ought to give this ring to that one person who... makes your heart pound uncontrollably whenever you see them, and you will always try to find more reasons to talk to them. When you see them with someone else, you will feel uncomfortable. When you see them sad, you won’t be able to bear it. When they smile at you, you will feel very happy and awfully cheerful.

“Instead of being with someone else, everyone thinks you and them should get married. They will also fit all of the characteristics of the person you want to spend your entire life with. Therefore, you should be together with them, because the one who is destined to be with you, is exactly them.”

Chen Xing raised his eyebrows and smiled. At that moment, he suddenly understood the odd feeling that was pressing down on his heart.

“I don’t understand,” Tuoba Yan was a little sad, his eyebrows now tightly furrowed.

Chen Xing explained: “It doesn’t matter. Just promise you will always remember what I said. One day, you will probably understand.”

Tuoba Yan didn’t overstep his limit. Between the two men, there were only breathing sounds, and nobody spoke anymore.

At last, Tuoba Yan said, “Okay.”

“Shall I walk you back?” Chen Xing spoke again. “For the time being, I don’t want to return yet. Xiang Shu had promised me...”

“It would be better if you don’t let the Rourans see him because otherwise, there would be a murder case.” Suddenly, Xiang Shu’s voice could be heard from behind a tree. Chen Xing was startled and furious: “You eavesdropped on our conversation!”

As a man who practiced martial arts, Tuoba Yan seemed to have long known that Xiang Shu was hiding behind a tree, stating: “Great Chanyu, sorry to have disturbed you.”

“What now?” Chen Xing said, “You treat your guests either by making them clean the room or by murdering them, does the Chi Le Covenant still

have any etiquette left?”

“The Tuoba clan, on behalf of the country, once captured several thousand Rourans, making them slaves,” Xiang Shu came out from behind a tree. He had already changed back into his king’s robe. He told Chen Xing, “The Rourans have already become drunk. If they know who he is, I can’t say for sure, but they may just draw a knife to stab your boyfriend. Forgive me if I am unable to stop them then.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tuoba Yan put on the ring and said to Chen Xing, “knowing that you’re safe and sound, I will leave now.”

“Hold on,” Chen Xing said, “stay here for a few days ba, you’ve come a long way...”

“Go back and tell Jian Tou,” Xiang Shu told Tuoba Yan, “Guwang doesn’t have any time to send anything to him these days, and also tell him to behave himself. If I ever hear of any turmoil happening in the Central Plains again, who knows, if he can’t even guard his own capital, I wouldn’t mind putting those Xianbei in order for him.”

Tuoba Yan replied: “I’ll certainly bring word to him.” With that, he got on his horse and galloped away. Chen Xing ran out a few steps, intending to stop him, but Xiang Shu caught hold of his arm.

“Xiang Shu, you let me go... Tuoba Yan!” shouted Chen Xing.

Tuoba Yan looked back at Chen Xing, and he suddenly smiled. There was a hint of bitterness in that smile, but it was covered up very well, and again, he shouted at him.

“Tianchi!” Tuoba Yan shouted, “Until we meet again!”

Chen Xing could only sigh. He shook off Xiang Shu’s arm and glared at him.

Xiang Shu knitted his brows: “I only went back to change my clothes. Where did you run to?”

Chen Xing: “How could you eavesdrop on us?!”

Xiang Shu: “I was only passing by and heard you two drinking under a tree... Chi Le Chuan is my territory, I can be anywhere I want. Who gave you the guts to ask that?”

Chen Xing: “You...”

Chen Xing walked ahead while practically spitting anger, and Xiang Shu immediately followed him, keeping the right distance. With that, the two men went back to Autumn Close Festival’s venue. Xiang Shu snarled: “You dare vent your anger on this Great Chanyu?!”

Chen Xing: “What? Want to hit me again? Bring it!”

Unexpectedly, Xiang Shu stopped, scrutinized Chen Xing, and frowned: “What’s wrong with you? Why are you this angry? If you don’t want to stay, just get lost! Follow Tuoba Yan back to Chang’an!

Cheng Xing took a deep breath; he was at his wit’s end. He pushed Xiang Shu forward. Xiang Shu didn’t even budge. Chen Xing was angry, shouting: “Bastard! You damn bastard!” He spoke while leaning on one side, ramming his shoulder against Xiang Shu. Xiang Shu was still like a stone rooted deep in the ground. He looked at him with a sarcastic face and pushed him aside using no real effort. Chen Xing, who was pushed aside, stumbled, and nearly fell to the ground.

Xiang Shu grabbed his wrist once again, Chen Xing immediately felt pain and screamed: “Aiya, aiya!” Right at the time when Xiang Shu was about to hit him, a shout came from nearby.

It was Che Luofeng. He was drunk, but his eyes were red, ignited with fury. Behind him were hundreds of Rouran cavalry, each orderly dressed in armor.

“Where is Xianbei’s Tuoba clan?!” Che Luofeng said, “Divine Doctor! Hand over your friend!”

Translator's Comment:

I love Tuoba Yan… he’s such a cinnamon roll… huhuhuhu I kinda feel bad

for him.

0 notes

bloodofthepen · 14 days ago

Text

And the follow-ups.

Harding: Emmrich? About earlier, when I brought up you and Rook being together?

Emmrich: Yes?

Harding: Look, you were in a crypt with all your dusty books, then suddenly Rook burst into your un-life...

Emmrich: I keep my books pristine!

Harding: I get it. Rook's Rook. Wild and eager, and just whisking you away. And now it's all candles and showers of ghost petals...

Harding: It's great, but you've also been... you know, kinda preoccupied. Mopey.

Emmrich: Mopey?

Rook: Mopey, huh? Looks like I'm not doing my job.

Emmrich: You are a daily delight, darling; I assure you.

***

Emmrich: I am not "mopey", Harding.

Harding: Uh, yeah, you are. You're so mopey you misaligned the spirit-ether whatsits twice this week. And your skull-thing is crooked.

Emmrich: My collar pin is perfectly straight.

Emmrich: (Sighs) I do worry, sometimes. We are of an age, and this work is...

Rook: "Of an age?" You're right--I like Harding mistaking me for a [background dependent] novice/fledgling/rookie/greenhorn/neophyte better.

• Harding: Well... my ma always says, it's fun to go at full gallop, but you still have to keep your eyes open. Tree branches and stuff. Of course, you two probably don't need advice since you're "of an age." • Emmrich: (dryly) Thank you, Lace.

Adjusted some romance party banter for fun since my Warden Rook is 49, rather than in her 20s as the game often assumes.

Harding: You have been a little distracted, lately. I mean what with you and Rook becoming... Emmrich: You noticed?

Harding: I'm sure you two getting together is... only Rook's kinda younger, so... Rook: Wait--Harding, aren't you a surfacer? Harding: Sure, but what does that have to do with-- Rook: And you grew up around humans. Harding: Yes...? Rook: Exactly how young do you think I am? Emmrich: You know, my dear, most people would simply allow themselves to be flattered.

#fake party banter #dragon age: the veilguard #emmrook

58 notes · View notes

a-dauntless-daffodil · 3 years ago

Text

i think it's very unrealistic that you'd give a magical sword that can transform things to a horse girl (adora)

and NOT have her try turning herself into a horse at least once

- adora trying to turn herself horse and getting it wrong and being stuck half way as a centaur

- getting annoyed even though it's an upgrade to her melee combat bc she wants to be FULL horsie!

- but she stuck so Glimmer's running around desperate to make sure Adora's still comfortable in bright moon

- (finds adora sleeping in the stable like noooooooooo- ugh fine, grabs a blanket and curls up with her)

- glimmer passing this off to the other princesses and her mom like this was tOTALLY ON PERPOSE NOT A RESULT OF MESSING AROUND WITH ANCIENT MAGICS BEYOND MORTAL KEN FOR FUN

- meanwhile centaur adora mutters despondently in the background about wanting a long flowing mane and Bow fits her with special ultra grip horse shoes so she doesn't keep slipping on the castle's polished floors

- swift wind gets called in to translate when Adora succeeds in going 100% horse

- (despite glimmer's panicked shrieks of "HOW ARE SUPPOSED TO TURN BACK IF YOU CAN'T EVEN SAY THE SWORD ACTIVATION THINGY!?" - ".... Adora says oops?")

- and he immediately declares himself Adora's son and heir, prince of the new equine empire !!!!!

- (horse Adora snorts loudly)

- and starts trying to turn everyone else into horses too as part of his plan for world domination

- horse shenanigans are had by all

- definitely including a baffled Queen Angella and some terrified Horde soldiers who picked the wrong day to launch an attack

- Glimmer and Adora team up to trick Swifty into hitting Adora with another magic beam, canceling things out and turning her human

- Adora was having SO MUCH FUN as a horse being so MAJESTIC and COOL doing amazing stunts with Glimmer as her long mane flows in the wind-

- then she's turns back and is just like. oh. phooye :(

- thus ends the newest threat to Etheria's future

- later that night Glimmer finds Adora sitting wistfully in the stable

- Glimmer rolls her eyes, tells Adora there's no problem with being at least part horsie in her free time, and hands over the sword (hint hint)

- centaur Adora with stars in her eyes cavorting around Glimmer so excited all four hooves flying and Glimmer's just like yep that's my idiot horse girl (affectionate)

- she snuggles down in the stables again with centaur Adora and it's worth the horrible itchy hay to see Adora nod off with a smile on her face

- Bow, Angella, Swiftwind and the other princess watch from the stable doors like ???? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ awww....

- Swifty wonders aloud if glimmadora get married someday, and he gets a second mom who'll someday be queen... would that still make him a prince??

- Angella sighs and leads her horse grandson away to start teaching him how not to be an evil overlord in case he ever does become king

- in the future Adora uses oops i've turned myself into a horse again as an excuse to get out of awkward situations and glimmer is So Done With It, Swift Wind Get Over Here And Turn Your Mom Back So Your Second Mom Can Drag Her To The Meeting Like A Responsible Adult

- and swifty always does because he knows which mom can make him king some day and it's not the one galloping away at full speed while her exasperated wife watches from the castle walls

#spop #centaur adora #glimmer #glimmadora #swift wind #its totally unrealistic for this not to have happened and that's the hill i die on #LET ADORA BE HORSE IF SHE WANTS TO SHE DESERVES IT

85 notes · View notes

writingthingsisdifficult · 3 years ago

Text

Good intentions

Bucky Barnes x reader

Had to divide the story into four parts, and I’m working as fast as I can to finish the rest.

Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :) Especially if you like it.

Everybody's alive.

When Natasha catches your reaction to seeing a soaking wet Bucky coming in from the rain, your life becomes unbearable. Nat considers herself a decent matchmaker, but what happens when both her subjects are resisting her attempts?

***

Part 1: Matchmaker

Word count: 4412

It had been raining for weeks. Racing streaks down the glass. Soft drumming against the umbrella. Big, fat drops of water splashing against the pavement, sending shivers through my body whenever they hit my skin. Two in rapid succession on my neck – don't know how, though, my coat collar was pulled up as high as it could go, and my umbrella was larger than average. Then one straight into my ear, which made me squeak in disgust. This had to be an omen.

I shook my umbrella before stepping through the door. No need to be a savage, though from the look of it, I was the only one who cared. A quick nod good morning to Nesta in the reception while making a mental note to call down the cleaning crew. The state of the floor was appalling. Mud and dirt and water – apparently not everyone remembered to wipe their feet before entering the building. And umbrellas all along the wall, dripping on the tiles, creating puddles so large a toddler would happily jump in them.

A long sigh escaped. Time for a stern talk with Nesta again. This was supposed to be a good first impression, not an impression of someone's mudroom. My stomach twisted, this was just the latest in a long string of minor complaints. If she didn't improve soon, I would have to make a note in her file and I hated being strict. Still, it was a part of my job, just like running errands before eight in the morning and longing for the coffee I left in my office. I didn't have to like it.

The elevator pinged. “Hey, Y/N.” Natasha walked out with a smile on her face. Her hair was red again, like flames cascading over her shoulders. Damn, that woman really could carry any hair colour. I nodded and smiled back. “Good morning, Agent Romanov. You're in early. What can I do for you? Love your hair, by the way."

"Thanks. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

I shook off my coat and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "Of course. What do you need? Let me just –""

The door blew open, banging into the doorstopper before closing behind a sopping wet figure and an umbrella that definitely had seen better days. "Good morning, Y/N. Hey, Nat. Have you seen Clint?" Bucky shook himself, sending a glittering spray of water everywhere.

"No, but check the roof."

The air was knocked straight out of me. I couldn't stop the tiny squeak that tumbled over my lips. The way his hair stuck to his face did things to me, not to mention how the water glistened on his metal arm. I hadn't felt heat on my face like that since I was seventeen and spilled juice all over my shirt in front of my neighbour Todd.

Swallowing the rest of the rude noises hovering in my throat, I forced a smile and nodded to the elevator. "Saw him by the coffee machine on the third floor earlier, Sargent Barnes." My voice was breathier that usual, and I cursed the weather for calling me out like that, while simultaneously praying to any deities listening that nobody noticed.

"Thanks." He marched to the elevator with a pace that would divide a crowd of people without a word.

Natasha looked between Bucky and me, a devilish smile spreading on her face. Once he was out of earshot, she bumped me with her elbow. “So, Bucky, huh?”

The heat crept up my ears and settled in my temples. Surely I was no more than two seconds from combusting? “What? I don’t… no, I mean –" I drew a big breath and steeled my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, what was it you needed my help with?”

Her eyes locked on mine. "Never mind that… You're a terrible liar."

A good point. I let out a small wheeze and scrunched my eyes shut. "Fine! Yes, Sargent Barnes is a tall drink of water. Is that what you want me to say? Well, yeah, okay. Maybe I do have a thing for him." The defeat was inevitable. Already my intestines were squirming. Nothing good could come from this.

Natasha looked like it was Christmas and her birthday all at once. "I knew it!"

I shrugged, ignoring the rising chill in my chest. How to best deescalate this before it got out of hand? "Well, you are a superspy after all. But please, PLEASE, don't say anything to him. I like my job. Besides, he's a fucking superhero. I'm just… me."

"Just you?" She shook her head lightly and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, come on! Look at me!" Holding my arms out, I swayed from side to side. I never liked to draw attention to my body, but apparently she needed the extra visual.

Natasha arched her eyebrow. "I am looking."

She was good, but I couldn't to give up that easily. "Yes, and then you clearly see that I'm ordinary. People like him don't fall for people like me. He's too perfect for that."

"Perf… perfect?" She snorted. "Y/N, Bucky's a mess. He's basically a cucumber with anxiety. Damn, you really have it bad if –"

"I know he has issues. You all do. I'm the one booking everybody's therapy sessions, remember? I'm not talking about his trauma. I'm talking about the fact that he's sweet as a marshmallow and his smile could power a small European country if Stark only found a way to harness its brilliance –"

"And the fact that he's got those broad shoulders and could probably lift and throw a bus if he wanted…"

"And that," I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck to stop that annoying heat from spreading even more. That was a delicious picture, alright. "But I'm nothing special."

"Y/N, sweetie, what are you talking about? You know everything, who's supposed to be where, what we're doing, when we come and go – that's practically a superpower right there. Don't downplay yourself."

The laughter came out dry and humourless. She had to be kidding. Being organised and good at puzzles wasn't exactly rocket science. And besides, I didn't even have a good memory. Without my trusty calendar and phone I'd be running around like Hei-Hei.

"Appreciate your confidence in me, but I don't think so, Nat," I countered and repeated: "Please don't tell him."

She sighed. "I won't."

I tilted my head and put on my best mom-voice. "Promise me."

Her shoulders slumped forward, and she lifted her hand in the air. "I promise I will never tell James Buchanan Barnes about your crush." There was a small pause. "Partypooper!"

"Who's a partypooper?"

I yelped and spun around, looking into Tony's smiling face. "Oh my god, Tony, I mean, Mr Stark." Why did he have to be so stealthy? A big, flashy guy like him ought to be required to announce his arrival with trumpets and drums. Through my galloping heartbeats I noted the glasses were new though, and wondered what kind of new tech they really were. They suited him.

He smirked. “Not the first time a lady has said that to me. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Exhaling, I closed my eyes, just barely resisting the urge to pinch my nose – or maybe kick him in the shin as a diversion. This was going to hell with the express train. “No one. No one's a partypooper.”

“Really?” He turned to Natasha. “Nat?”

I shook my head vigorously, bringing forth all malice I had to my eyes, which I have been told is substantial.

"Y/N has a crush and –"

"Ooh, is it me?" He winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

That made me laugh. "What? Oh, god no." Then I immediately felt bad for my reaction.

"Okay, a little bit insulted, but whatever…"

"She won't let me tell Bucky that she's in love with him," Natasha continued as if she had never been interrupted.

Tony gasped, a look of absolute delight in his eyes.

It was as if the ground disappeared beneath me. A rush of adrenaline almost knocked me off my feet. "Natasha! You promised."

She shrugged and pointed at Tony. "I promised not to tell Bucky. Last I checked, that is not him."

This time I did pinch the bridge of my nose and exhaled deeply, then groaned silently. “Nat!” Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. “Sargent Barnes is a friend. Well, uh, a colleague. Of sorts. I do not -“

“So you didn’t just squeak and burst into flames when he came through that door, huh?” She pointed to the glass door with a grin on her face.

Yeah, this was definitely a torture-the-handler day. Though Natasha was right about my crush, of course, and I wasn't even sure it was just a crush anymore; it had lasted for far too long to be called a crush, I had to keep a professional relationship with all of them.

Truth be told I had had a crush on Bucky since the day we were introduced, but I remembered the exact moment I had fallen in love: it was a chilly spring evening about a year ago. The team had decided to go out to eat, Wanda had discovered a new restaurant downtown, and the food supposedly was to die for. I couldn’t remember what I ate, or if I even liked it, but I remembered the knitted cardigan Bucky wore, the one with the colourful pattern on it. It looked really soft, and I found myself longing to touch it. That wasn’t the moment, though. The exact moment that made me go “Oh shit!” was when I cracked some stupid dad joke, and Bucky unleashed his full laughter on me. Who knew that "Singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth. Then it's a soap opera," would be my doom? But the sound had stunned me, made me lose my voice for several minutes. If someone had opened my skull at that moment, the only thing they would have found was an empty space and a dial tone - my brain frantically trying to reconnect with my body. If I concentrated I could still hear the ringing in my ears.

I avoided him for a week afterwards - well, tried and failed; my work meant contact with the entire Avengers team at all times - but the mental distance hurt too much to keep up with it. Since then, I allowed the realisation to wash over me, causing me both joy and suffering. And I thought I hid it well. Not well enough, apparently, since Natasha sniffed it out. I resisted the urge to close my eyes and sigh again. However, I couldn’t stop my intestines from curling into a tight ball. She had brought Tony into this after all.

Tony’s eyes shone. It had been a long time since any drama unfurled in the compound. He was practically starved, and this… This was delicious.

Looking between them, I knew this wouldn't end well. "You know what? I'm gonna go set up the briefing. Room 705. Thirty minutes. Don't be late." Fishing the phone out of my pocket, I sent a group text to everyone with time and location. In afterthought the wording in the text might have been a tad too harsh, threatening bodily harm if they were late, but the start of the day warranted some sort of reaction leaking from my brain. I locked eyes with Natasha. "Not. A. Word!"

She nodded, but the grin never left her face.

Tony watched me frantically push the elevator button, and I caught him whispering, not knowing I could still hear him. Or maybe he didn't care. "So what's your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you have a plan? You're the resident match-maker here, aren't you?"

Nastasha let out a small laugh. "Do you know why she refuses to do anything about it?"

Tony nodded. “Because she’s professional and a bit afraid for what the people at the top are going to say?”

“No. Well, probably that too, but she thinks Bucky is way out of her league. Something about him being a superhero.” She snorted.

“What?” Tony let out a barking laugh. “Why? Bucky’s like the most timid ex-assassin you can find. I mean, he’s basically a cup of soft serve covered in salt and liquorice."

“I know. We gotta get them together. So, uh, are you in?”

“Uh, yeah! What’s your plan?”

The room finally sealed itself around me and I heard nothing else than the back of my head banging against the mirror wall and F.R.I.D.A.Y. cheerfully announcing what floor I was going to.

Half an hour later I had to step out for a bit to fetch a new cable to the projector, and when I got back, almost everyone were seated. My chest hollowed when I spotted Tony and Natasha sitting together, looking very conspiring indeed.

The urge to either run from the room or break them up rose in my throat, but instead I pulled up a chair next to Sam and focused on my breathing. He was one of the most calming people on the team, and I shamelessly used him as a shield.

Other than the small scare in the beginning, the morning briefing went without hitch. Agent Hill presented the upcoming missions, and I marked my calendar accordingly. Apparently SHIELD had detected a new terrorist group forming in northern Europe, and needed eyes.

Natasha was a given, she could go undetected for longer periods of time, and could take care of herself if necessary. Of course, Clint would come with her. They were an amazing team together, and he would probably go anyway, even if he was assigned to another task. It was better just to let him.

Steve and Sam would step in if it came to that, but would have to keep under the radar until they were needed. Bucky would travel to Europe with the others, but I knew he would set off alone the minute they touched ground in Stockholm. He worked best alone, or so he claimed, and anyway it would be an advantage to spread out. Still, I made a note on my pad to make sure he had everything he needed, and then some. Who knew where his road might lead him.

Bruce and Tony would work together to develop a better algorithm for the surveillance. So far, the terrorist group had evaded SHIELD's best efforts to pin them down. I was actually surprised to learn they didn't even know their name, which made me suspect something big was coming.

The rest of the team was assigned to other, smaller missions, scattered across the States. That way they could easily be reassigned if the situation escalated in Europe.

During the meeting, I kept an extra eye on Natasha and Tony. They sat next to each other, and though I thought I saw them passing notes a couple of times, I didn't want to bring any attention to it. The rest of the group looked oblivious. A sigh of relief escaped me, and Natasha looked up. She nodded imperceptibly towards Bucky, who sat with a bored look on his face and a discarded towel by his feet.

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head, trying my best to stop my ears from buzzing. Suddenly aware of every molecule in the air and trying desperately to ignore the intense weight, I focused all my attention back on Agent Hill’s presentation. Still, Bucky’s presence lingered in the back of my head, and together with the imminent threat from Natasha and Tony, I felt like I was sitting on explosives.

When Maria finally closed her laptop and turned to Director Fury, everybody got up, chatting as if the meeting had been a regular parent-teacher meeting and not a brief on a possible terrorist organisation on the rise.

“Can you believe that people will do things like this?” an agent asked as we all filed out of the room.

“Well, faith is a strong persuader,” I replied with a shrug. “Some are willing to go far for what they believe in.”

“Yeah, but they’re wrong,” the agent continued.

“They’d probably say the same about us,” Sam said, and I nodded.

“There are always two sides to the coin. If not more.”

“But -“

“And then it’s up to us to figure out what to do. We have to look at the big picture. Not everyone is capable of that.” Sam tilted his head with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

The agent huffed and hurried off with a look on his face that either said that he was constipated, or that being schooled by a member of the Avengers was too much for a Wednesday morning.

“Not sure he saw the big picture, Sam.” I shook my head and smiled.

“Don’t think he could. Better hope he doesn’t get promoted soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’ll be on desk duty for years still. And I guess you have a little desk duty yourself right now?”

“Well, actually… I was hoping you could do me a favour.”

Uh-oh. That sounded ominous. “Of course. What can I do, what do you need?” My voice rose to mimic the retail job I had before I got lucky enough to join SHIELD's training and ultimately land my dream job.

Sam grimaced. "I gotta go to Louisiana. Just a short trip, couple of days maybe."

"Shit, don't think Director Fury would be too happy about that right now, not to mention the rest of upstairs. You're supposed to be on silent duty until you leave for Sweden."

"Yeah, I know that, it's just… Cass and AJ has been asking me to come visit. And Sarah's getting sick of their nagging. Also, I sorta promised on the phone yesterday. Didn't know there would be a world crisis today."

Smiling softly, I hid the urge to smack my face into the wall. This was going to take a lot of explaining and string-pulling. He was supposed to go no-contact for the duration of the mission, but I hated disappointing the boys. And Sarah was a good woman. She didn't deserve being let down, even though it technically wasn't Sam's fault this time.

"Sam, you're such a softie," I said after some consideration. "Go. I'll figure something out. Just be back before the weekend, okay? And –"

"Yeah yeah, and I'll come in at once if the situation escalates before we're scheduled to head out."

I gave him a crooked smile to disguise the trouble he had just handed me. "Sure. But I was gonna say bring back some of that pecan pie. I've been dreaming about that since last summer."

Sam let out a loud laugh and kissed the top of my head, melting my nervous soul to a gooey puddle. "You're the best. Thanks."

"Fly safe."

"I always do."

"Really now?"

"Oh so that's how it is, huh?"

"That's how it is. Say 'hi' to Sarah for me."

With a short wave, he took off down the corridor, leaving me quietly screaming and already doing the mental gymnastics to find a solution.

***

Departure time was in two days. Everyone was on edge, trying their best to prepare for any eventualities, both inconceivable and expected. After a short meeting with the departure crew to share the last pieces of intel, I felt empty and tired. Missions always affected me more than they should. These people were my friends; if anything were to happen to them, my world would collapse.

Apparently I wasn't the only one feeling a bit drained. No one was in a hurry to leave, and the conversation was hushed and weary.

"You know what we need?" Tony said loudly, slicing through the silence and winking to Natasha. He thought I wouldn't notice, but I did, and the suspicion grew in my chest. What now?

"Pizza!" they said in unison. "We should gather everyone, before we all go."

Tony nudged my arm. "My treat. What do you say?"

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head. "…sure."

"Oh, don't be like that. We all need good pizza. Especially today, what with all this rain. Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y., you know that pizza bakery up the street, the one with the chicken one. Order pizza for everyone. Remember the one with pear, brie, and white sauce. Have it delivered to the lounge."

That did it for me. If he ordered my favourite, I'd be damn sure to eat my part. "When?"

"Uh…" He looked at his watch. "Noon. I'll send out a ping. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I do have a ton of things to do to make sure you guys don't die on this trip." I tried to keep it light, but now that the thought had settled in my mind, I had to fight off the tears. It was a miracle I managed to keep the tremble from my voice.

An hour later I tripped over the doorstep to the lounge, surprised to see it was empty except for Tony and Natasha and a huge stack of pizzas. "Where is everybody?" The door clicked behind me, sealing the silence in.

Natasha shrugged. "Late?"

At that moment the door opened again and Bucky sauntered in with a mischievous smile on his face. "Gimme the pizza and nobody gets hurt."

"Jeez, Buck. Remember your manners. There are ladies present." Tony grinned, but opened the top box and helped himself to a slice.

Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Y/N," he said with an over-the-top flourish. "I hope you can forgive my insolence." He gestured towards the pizzas. "Ladies first."

My heart did a somersault, but I managed to keep it cool on the outside. "Insolence forgiven," I replied, swallowing a hiccough that lodged itself in my throat, before taking a plate and sifting through the boxes until I found the right one. Loading my plate, I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions. Only thing missing now was some candles and a drink, and I'd be set for the day.

Natasha gave Tony a pointed look. Two minutes later he picked up his phone and half jogged out the door. That was odd. Tony never jogged.

I looked between Natasha and the door, the pizza forgotten halfway between the plate and my mouth. She looked anywhere but at me, but was saved from a confrontation by her phone ringing. "Gotta take this," she muttered. "Can't prepare enough for the trip." She smiled apologetically and left the room. That was a lie, of course. She had full control; all intel was already read and destroyed. And if something new had come up, I would have been notified too.

Suddenly the plate felt heavy in my hand. Maybe it was naïve, but I had expected Natasha and Tony to respect my wishes; after all I had made it absolutely clear that they should leave it, hadn't I? Their amusement and entertainment wasn't worth being an inconvenience to Bucky.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked when the door clicked behind Natasha.

"I… I don't know," I lied haltingly.

Bucky shrugged. "Oh well. Might as well catch up on some paperwork before the flight too. See you later." With one slice between his teeth and another in his hand, he left the room with a friendly wave.

"Sure. See you." I spoke to his back; the glass door had already closed behind him. The lump in my throat grew. Even though Tony had ordered my favourite pizza, I no longer had any appetite. My mouth was dry, and it was a struggle to swallow. In a fit of frustration, I kicked the table, smacking my toe in the process. The pizza slice slid from the plate and landed on my thigh. "Fuck!"

"Ooh, pizza!"

I spun in my seat. Steve had just arrived, and that made me feel a little bit better at least. He was always a laugh.

"Where is everybody?" He looked around and spotted my moping figure, holding an equally sad slice of pizza. "You okay?"

"I guess," I replied, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Everybody else left. The mission, yeah?"

"Right. I thought everything was planned and okayed."

I couldn't bring myself to fill him in on the situation. If he didn't already know, it was nice to have someone neutral by my side. "Yeah, I don't know."

Their scheme was becoming clear; making Bucky spend time with me alone. But it was a failure. Even he thought it was awkward, and he obviously didn't want to be alone with me. Not that I blamed him. If I was him, I'd do the same.

I glanced at my watch. 12.30. Just then Sam, Bruce, Wanda, and Vision spilled into the room, heading towards the pizza like a herd of hungry goats. Slowly my appetite returned too, and half an hour later the blow to my heart was a painful memory pushed to the back of my mind by excellent pizza and wonderful friends.

Later that day I ran into Tony on the way to the garage. He tried to slip past me, but had to stop when I blocked the door, arms crossed over my chest and puffing myself up as much as I could. "Seriously, Tony! What did you expect to happen, huh? That I'd just throw myself in his arms because we were alone? Because newsflash: I've got both self-control and decency. Do you really think I've never been alone with him before?"

At least he had the decency to look thoroughly chastised, and he mumbled something inaudible I thought maybe sounded like an apology.

No way he was getting away with a tiny one. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"It was Nat's idea," he said, trying a smirk that didn't work at all.

"I very much doubt that," I replied, dragging a hand over my eyes. "Do I have to call Pepper? I didn't think so," I added when he shook his head. "Do better! Now excuse me. I have a lot of work to do to ensure you actually don't die on this mission." With a final, exaggerated frown, I turned and marched out of the room, ignoring the samba in my chest.

Part 2: Eel infested waters

#bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfic #good intentions #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu

113 notes · View notes

hysteriium · 4 years ago

Text

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them.

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think.

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader.

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence.

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief.

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice.

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–”

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running.

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper.

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.”

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he?

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” he smirked, petting your head.

Curse his height.

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?”

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.”

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.”

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.”

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath.

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?”

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars.

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!”

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well…

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it.

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word–

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you.

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first.

“Will this make you, uh, happy?”

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?”

“My being with you.”

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’.

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.”

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted.

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm.

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion.

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–”

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks.

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning.

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling.

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady.

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips.

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold.

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk.

“Peach,” he cooed.

You were going to have to reapply later.

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself.

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him.

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!”

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with.

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work.

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.”

“Hmm,” he trailed off.

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green.

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!”

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed.

“All done!”

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.”

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention.

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.”

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.”

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.”

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach.

It would have to do, though.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He stood up now, towering over you.

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips.

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact.

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“What are you–”

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed.

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring.

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days.

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving.

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting.

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust.

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.”

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.”

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism.

“It’s hard not to.”

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him.

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly.

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago.

You fought the urge to run.

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath.

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand.

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?”

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–”

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.”

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out.

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision.

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology.

Your stomach turned.

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm.

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt.

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him.

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset.

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier.

Pee-yew.

Everyone here sucked.

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her.

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement.

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.”

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?”

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear:

I’m new to this.

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation.

Something had changed.

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him.

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response.

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain.

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment.

“So what? What are you doing?”

“What does it – ah – look like?”

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away.

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo.

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but.

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right.

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it.

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles.

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt.

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash.

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean.

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that.

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good.

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you.

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth.

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.”

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade.

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.”

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.”

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.”

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth.

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation.

Yeesh.

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming.

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here.

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom.

He smacked his lips.

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse.

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?”

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side.

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye.

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her.

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation.

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?”

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?”

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing.

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer.

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut.

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance.

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed.

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms.

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.”

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly.

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again.

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale.

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.”

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected.

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–”

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic.

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness.

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady.

“Mine,” you whispered.

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete.

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand.

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song.

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice.

354 notes · View notes

thunderc1an · 4 years ago

Text

Po3 rewrite, Chapter 3:

Table of Contents | Chapter 2

Within days of the incident Hazelpaw’s apprenticeship was given to Brightheart to oversee, Mousepaw heard speculation that this was just for the time being and soon Hazelpaw would return to train under Spiderleg, but a half-moon had already passed, and this exchange has yet to happen.

To think that he had not even noticed the state in which Hazelpaw was pushed into by her former mentor was very shameful on his part; and when he had formally apologized to Hazelpaw for said actions his littermate had simply laughed, and smiled, and then brushed the conversation into another area of interest.

“Mousepaw,” The apprentice was then pulled from his thoughts. The image of his mentor came into focus. “Now is not the right time to allow your mind to wander, please pay attention to the lesson” Brackenfur advised lightly and at this Mousepaw became shy with embarrassment, a good apprentice would be attentive to every word that came from their mentor’s jaw. “I’m sorry, sir”. The senior warrior shook his head gently with a rather bemused expression to his features. “We’ve been over this already, there is no need for the formalities, Mousepaw. To you I am your mentor, above the fact that I am the clan’s deputy.”

With his statement Mousepaw was reminded in part of a few heated words that were spoken before the skirmish broke loose:

Any clan cat knows the bond between mentor and apprentice is deeper than that of blood.

“Sir?”

The smile on his mentor’s face had reluctantly grown in length.

“May I ask a question?”

The older tom nodded, moving to sit himself in a brightly lit patch of grass, for a moment Mousepaw had to squint as the golden pelt of his mentor glowed in the sun. The forest was relatively quiet this day and his ears could pick the soft sound of a mouse moving along in the undergrowth, or perhaps it was a squirrel, and he had thought wrong. “Is it true, that the bond between mentor and apprentice is deeper than blood itself?”

The clan deputy hummed thoughtfully, its pleasant tune echoed gingerly around him. After a few moments in what seemed like thoughtful contemplation Brackenfur spoke: “Well, yes, it is believed that the bond an apprentice has with their mentor should surpass the bond of family”. Mousepaw did have great care for his mentor but he wondered if he and the older tom would ever reach that point of familiarity, but then again, stronger than that of family? “Of course, not all those who mentor deserve the loyalty of their apprentice.” These words were spoken in a way that suggested his mentor’s apprenticeship was not the most pleasant one.

Curiosity got the better of Mousepaw and he pressed the conversation in that area wanting to know more. “Who was your mentor, are they still in Thunderclan?”

“No, not anymore. My first day as an apprentice would be the last day I would train under him; he simply fell in love with the secrets of the river.” The white apprentice’s ear flickered upon sensing a faint underlying bitterness to his mentor’s demeanor, one that had aged neatly without always showing itself. He knew there was a deeper meaning to what the senior warrior meant, but this time the young cat did not press further. “I no longer hold hostility towards him for in his absence I became the clan’s apprentice. The warriors of Thunderclan never discarded my training, they generously passed their knowledge and skill to me. Every Thunderclan cat, whether they sustain the title of warrior or monarch, I have learned from.” “Even Firestar?” Brackenfur chuckled, a low thing that was hoarse yet comforting, distantly, as he tucked the tune into the ends of his mind, he would assume this was how the laughter of a father should sound like. “Yes, even Firestar, as well as many cats that I have sadly outlived.” Who were those cats? Mousepaw could not help but wonder. Cats before his time, how were their stories written and what were they like? “Mousepaw, I may be your mentor but I wish for you to learn from every cat in Thunderclan. A warrior can have the talent to defeat those who are bigger than they may be but a true clan cat will come to understand the beauty of each and every one of their clanmates and appreciate it”. “How did you learn to appreciate it?” He asked shyly rather awed by the wisdom the older cat carried with his person. “Me?” Brackenfur asked before an even brighter smile lit his features “You see a very special kit taught me so,”

And this stumped him, no matter how hard he thought about it Mousepaw could not make any sense of the explanation he was given, even as the pair had now made their way further into the lush territory, he still continued to think upon it. It was not necessarily a bother that he could not understand how a kit alone could teach Brackenfur such a compound subject, but instead he was fairly intrigued by it. Perhaps he should speak with the kits of Ferncloud once they come into this world. Maybe then he would learn to be a refined warrior of Thunderclan.

The white apprentice bent himself down to properly sniff a tuft of grass. “Mousepaw, what do you smell?” The young cat took a few heartbeats to decipher what he had just smelled as he straightened himself. It was something most definitely nasty. An odor that had made his nose crinkle with disgust. “Something icky,” and Mousepaw had wiped his nose with his paw to rid the scent that had stayed behind; it did not work.

“I want you to remember it well, Mousepaw. This is the smell of dog”

“Is it still here?” He asked with fear gripping his words. He himself had never encountered a thing known as a ‘dog’ before but when he was just a small thing that could waddle his littermates and he would listen to the stories of the cats that had come to visit their little family within the nursery. Brightheart’s stories were the scariest in all the clan; she would tell stories of monstrous shadows that would gallop through the forest with teeth as big as young trees: dogs. The pair were far from camp but the scent was still within the territory, closer to that of the border Thunderclan shared with Shadowclan. “No, the smell is stale, but it is a matter that will be reported back to Firestar,” Brackenfur smiled kindly down at him “Just to be safe, one should never hesitate on matters such as these.” Mousepaw nodded, storing this newly given advice somewhere in the reaches of his mind.

“Well, well, well, look what we found here” A new voice made itself known and both toms’ heads turned to its source. Sorreltail emerged from the undergrowth, her dappled pelt camouflage her form well, she seemed to blend with a good number of shadows that surrounded them. Jaypaw was next to poke his head from the undergrowth, his large ears twitched and as the slender tom stepped forward, his long whiskers brushed against every plausible surface that was within reach. “Sorreltail, Jaypaw, what a surprise” The deputy greeted, having dipped his head. “Likewise, good Brackenfur, Mousepaw,” The she-cat meowed pleasantly, and a look was shared between the older warriors.

“So, Jaypaw and I just finished with our own activities, would it be any trouble if we were to join your little party?”

“Not at all, I see no problem with this, do you Mousepaw?” and the apprentice in question shook his head. Jaypaw was quick to voice his opinion however: “Do we have to?” the young dark grey cat bemoaned, “We’ve had no fun today, it’s just been lessons after lessons” Mousepaw looked to see Sorreltail’s reaction, Jaypaw was only some moons younger than him but he’d never dare to speak to his mentor in such a tone or manner. But, the molly wore a kind expression, one filled with affection at the other apprentice’s actions; the way she looked was close to motherly. “I see nothing wrong with having a break, Scruffy.” She meowed, “Actually, you’ve done well today so let’s just end class here. Mousepaw, could you take Jaypaw back to camp?” The white apprentice perked at his name and then quietly looked to his mentor for approval. Brackenfur opened his mouth, surely to say something on this matter, but with the way Sorreltail rose her brow at him the deputy was quick to push it aside with a heavy sigh, he smiled, “Go on Mousepaw, you boys get back to camp, alright?” The pair nodded, then turned to leave, and as they left they heard the friendly chatter of the older cats.

Now well within the heart of Thunderclan Jaypaw and Mousepaw had begun to make some small talk. They should have done some hunting, the forest was alive and full of prey, but both cats had done well in their lessons this morning and they really did deserve a much needed break. “Like I said, I would much rather have you as my littermate than have Lionpaw as my brother.” Jaypaw huffed aloud and Mousepaw sheepishly smiled, “I’m sure it’s not that bad, he seems like a good cat,” The white apprentice meowed, having made an attempt to defend his clanmate.

“Oh please Mousepaw, you’re always too kind, don’t give my brother so much praise it might somehow inflate his already large ego” and Mousepaw could not help himself by laughing at this statement. So much for trying to defend his clanmate. It was true however, Lionpaw’s ego, when it showed itself, could rival no other cat. Yet Mousepaw had no real quarrel with it or with the apprentice themselves, for Lionpaw was a strong and very skilled individual, even for his young age. As long as Lionpaw could continually beat every apprentice in Thunderclan then the red tom could keep his pedestal, it was well earned in Mousepaw’s eyes. Though, Berrypaw certainly did not think this way. His own littermate would wine and moan that Honeypaw would never think he was the coolest cat out there if he kept on losing to a cat that was younger than he was. Perhaps Mousepaw could kindly ask Lionpaw to go easy on his brother during their next sparring session, surely it would be a blessing upon his ears if that love-sick dolt were to shut his-

Jaypaw laughed and Mousepaw blinked from his thoughts, not having expected the sound. His brows were raised in question, not knowing what Jaypaw had found funny, the pair had just walked a good number of paw steps in comfortable silence.

“Oh,” Jaypaw’s head turned away from his line of sight in a shy manner, “Sorry, I was thinking about something funny,” Mousepaw flushed with embarrassment at the small misunderstanding, he apologized, but the awkward atmosphere had already hung itself over the pair. How silly of him, they were almost back at camp but Mousepaw wished to keep talking with Jaypaw; just a little longer nothing wrong with that, but his selfishness was a rather small part of him, it was not strong enough to ask if possibly they could idle longer. Additionally, with the delicate silence that had been created it was rather hard to strike up a conversation.

“Mousepaw?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to head back to camp, yet. That’s too boring, let’s go have some fun before we return,”

Mousepaw smiled, “Ok”.

#Warriors #Warrior Cats #warriors art #warriors rewrite #po3 rewrite #po3 au #Mousewhisker #Brackenfur #sorreltail #jayfeather #Lionblaze #berrynose #yay! i finished it!#amz happy #uh- sorry for any spelling mistakes I might have made #or grammatical mistakes at that ho ho

66 notes · View notes

thr-333 · 4 years ago

Text

Just Another Class Trip :) Part 5

If you don’t get to fight Batman on your class trips I feel sorry for you because Marinette did and she had a great time. Besides from the fact the miracle box went missing that was kind of a downer.

First< Previous >Next

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

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe yells at her, Marinette pops her head up through the trash, “Just what do you think you’re doing?!”

“I’m looking for something Chlo,” Marinette tries not to betray the panic in her voice.

“You did not ditch us today to search the trash!” Chloe practically screeches, stomping her foot.

“Chloe! I just really, really need to find this ok?!” Chloe actually recoils at Marinette snapping at her, guilt claws at her, adding more scratches to her conscience, “Sorry, I’m just stressed,”

“You need to relax Mari,” Chloe sighs, she cant, she cant! She cant! “I will only forgive you if you come upstairs and have a shower right now ,”

Marinette glances to Tikki, who nods. They’ve searched the trash here three times over, the Miracle box isn’t here. She lets Chloe lead her upstairs, the ground feels like it's swaying under her feet. The pressure like she’s about to vomit has persisted for hours.

“I will be standing right here, so don’t even think about leaving before you are rid of that smell,” Chloe pushes her into the bathroom.

“Tikki what am I supposed to do,” Marinette curls into herself, as soon as the door closes “I looked everywhere, it-it’s gone ,”

“It’s alright Marinette I’m sure you’ll find it, you just need to think things through,” Tikki pats her arm, not blaming her even once, making everything so much worse.

“Exactly, so chin up,” Kaalki commands, Marinette listens looking at the hovering Kwami with swimming vision, “Now make a theory and we’ll work from there,”

“Only Adrien was in the apartment but he didn’t take it,” Marinette works through her thoughts, “I know he wouldn't have,”

“Good,”

“He was gone for two hours talking with Chloe and Kagami,”

“Exactly,”

“So someone stole it during that time,” Marinette had already concluded that but it was nice to lay it all out, “I thought it was Lila, but she would have just thrown it out,”

“Or,”

“Or kept it,” Marinette gets the picture, formulating a plan, “I have to search her room, as Starling they can get away with it,”

“Good I’ll transport you in there,” Kaalki nods, dipping into her bag to get a sugar cube, “Now change,”

Marinette listens and within minutes they are in Lila's room. The shower running back in Chloe's room. Starling pokes around the room, searching under the bed and in the closet. She spreads out to the whole apartment since Lila isn’t sharing with anyone.

She is opening the oven when the door opens. She freezes, coming eye to eye with Lila. In a split second Starling darts into the bathroom.

“Come out of there!” Lila bangs on the door, “Who are you! I’m calling the police!”

Marinette doesn't give her the chance, teleporting out of the bathroom.

Chloe fights to make her come to dinner that night. Marinette doesn't have the strength to argue and so is dragged along, glaring at Lila from across the table. Lila just looks smugly back, she has to know where the Miracle box is, she just has to.

“Is that the new Wayne?” Marinette hears someone across the restaurant whisper.

Wonder who they’re talking about

“The one with the pink scarf?”

“Take a picture!”

If Marinette could summon the energy she would go over and ask what they meant. Or tell them they had the wrong person. Instead she just hides her face in her arms, lying on the table.

“Head off the table,” Madame Bustier chides, Marinette listens, but doesnt bother answering.

“Oh Marinette,” Lila’s voice is so grating she is ready to send her head through the table, “You look just terrible, what happened?”

You

“Are you ok Marinette,” Rose asks, she was actually nice to Marinette either unaware of the divide or not caring, “Do you want to go back?”

Marinette supposes Lila never had to lie about her to Rose. As she was already running around after Lila trying to make sure she was comfortable, Marinette just fell by the wayside. Either way Marinette can see that changing in the near future with how livid Lila looks that Marinette got the slightest bit of positive attention.

“I know jetlag can be bad, with all my travels,” Could you get to the part where you antagonise me already? “But don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?

“Sure Lila,” Marinette sighs, actually getting a few shocked gasps from the class.

They all probably thought that if Lila said the sky was blue Marinette would disagree. Well she would probably double check. Plus the sky is black at night. And multicoloured during sunrise and sunset. You know what? Screw it, Marinette would not trust Lila if she said the sky is blue.

“So Lila,” Alya speaks up, “ What's the worst jet lag you’ve ever had?”

“Well..”

Marinette doesn’t bother listening. She does get the side eye from Alya.

This doesn't mean I like you

Feelings mutual buddy

However it does allow her to lean against Kagami for the rest of the night and doze off. Marinette doesn't pay anymore attention to Lila’s lies the rest of the night until it comes to getting back to the hotel. They are all piling into taxis when Lila weasels her way into getting her own. Covertly Marinette slides a hundred to the driver and sends them to a less than savoury part of town. Now it’s just up to Starling to keep up.

Luckily for her Lila decides to be an idiot, and actually gets out of the car. So Starling drops in front of her when the taxi drives off.

“You!” Lila backs up into the alley, really ?

“You stole something,” Starling stalks forward, appearing every bit of threatening as a sleep deprived guardian of the miraculous can be, which is pretty fucken scary when the Miracle box is on the line, “Where is it!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Lila tears up.

“Do not lie to me ,” Starling punctuates the threat by bending a discarded metal pipe in half.

Lila squeaks, as she backs up against the wall, Starling cages her in.

“WHERE IS IT!”

The absolute terror on Lila’s face is so gratifying for a moment. Then a cold terror runs down Marinette as Lila smiles. The same smile that promises to ruin her life every day.

“Help!” Lila cries, her voice quavering in a poor imitation of the actual fear she just saw, “Please anyone!”

Anyone turns out to be the hand on her shoulder that rips Starling back. They go to grab her arm but she flips out of their grasp, getting enough distance to come face to face with The Batman!

Before she can even think about formulating a response Batman lashes out, going straight for her gut. Starling side steps, twisting around to stand in Batman’s blind spot, making him turn to see her.

“Why are you attacking a civilian?” He demands, a knife she dodges barely grazing her cheek.

“She stole something,” Marinette drops down as he swings a punch at her head.

“That’s not true!” Lila cries, huddled up against the wall, “They broke into my hotel room today! And then they attacked me! They’re trying to kidnap me!”

“She’s lying!” Apparently that’s not convincing enough as she dodges a kick, having to roll away, thankfully towards the exit.

She tries to make a run for it, getting halfway up the fire escape of the next building when a Batarang pins her cape down. She tears it out, throwing it back at the shadow who hangs in midair.

Wow that is not aerodynamic at all

She watches as it tapers off to the side, falling to the ground. Batman swings onto the staircase of the fire escape. She dodges, she slips on a stair, losing her balance. Batman aims a punch for her sternum she has no choice but to block. It hurts getting an armoured glove full impact onto her relatively light arm guards. In her defense she never prepared to fight The Batman.

He seems to be taken aback that she is able to block his punch, or is re-planning. She takes the opportunity to use her bit of super strength to push him off the fire escape, double checking he still has his grappling hook. He falls down as she bolts up the stairs. By the time she reaches the top he is already on the roof

She has no weapons to defend herself against another Batarang. She can’t slip away like she did last time so has no choice but to dodge.

“I don’t want to fight you!” She yells, rolling out of the way of another Batarang.

“I’m sure you don’t,”

“Not like that!” There's no reasoning with him then, he made up his mind and is going to beat her before asking any questions, “You know what never mind!”

She sprints to the edge of the building. He doesn’t particularly try to stop her, after all he thinks she has no escape route. Which means he was not expecting her to jump right off the building.

“Kaalki, Full gallop,” She says quietly to her Kwami, putting on her glasses.

She transforms, opening a portal inches from the ground, she lands in her hotel bedroom. Dropping the transformation, she collapses onto the bed. She pants lungs burning, soon she realises she hasn't been taking any air.

What does she have to be stressed about? So she lost the Miracle box, an ancient treasure able to harness the gods? So it was all her fault for shirking off her duties for fun. So it was all her fault that she technically attacked a civilian without any proof. So it was her fault Batman attacked her and she’s probably a criminal now. So what?

She chokes around words, apologies to her Kwamis, to Master Fu, to everyone she has failed today. Instead her vision blurs and she has to take gasping breaths, shuddering in the warm room. She curls up on top of the blankets tucked in too tight to provide her with comfort. Too perfect, too well done, everything she isn’t.

Tikki nuzzles into her cheek, Marinette shudders out a breath, curling more into herself. Kaalki comes to rest near her heart. The magical thrum of the Kwami calming her heart beat. There are no words. There don’t need to be. There’s no one here to send Akuma after them. For once Marinette can cry, let her emotions run rampant. Then she’ll harness everything she has into protecting the Miracle box.

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

Taglist:

@smolplantmum @flufflepuffle296 @dawnwave16 @caffeinetheory @g-arya @Maribat-2k20 @ladybug-182 @Actual-disaster-human @fusser90 @messrs-weasley @soap-lady @paintedhope7 @zeneralla @mochegato @random-nerd-3 @clumsy-owl-4178 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @too0bsessedformyowngood @certifiedbidisaster @Purplegeekypanda @awkward0ghostfan @theymakeupfairies @tikki-marinette @insane-fangirl-of-everything @elmokingkong @inarachi02 @slytherinhquinn @moongoddesskiana @dast218 @buginetye @redscarlet95 @biodad-bruce-month @hansa-12 @waiting247 @toodaloo-kangaroo @how-to-fuction-properly @trippingovermyfeet @greekmythgal @whatthefox22 @the-alice-of-hearts @bigpicklebananatree

348 notes · View notes

iridescentjin · 4 years ago

Text

At Night, By the Fire

Summary: Camping with your boyfriend Kim Namjoon turns into a very interesting night. knj x reader

Rating: M

Genre: smut, pwp

Warnings: casual marijuana use, vaginal fingering, slight degradation/dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, dom!Namjoon vibes, sub!reader vibes

a/n: Been meaning to write this for a while. I hope you enjoy it.

Spending the night camping near the Great Salt Lake wasn’t how you planned on spending my last night with my boyfriend, who you only get to see once a month at best. But honestly, you’ve spent the night sleeping in a Pathfinder near a water treatment plant on Lake Superior just to spend a little time with him, so this actually seemed pretty luxurious. You have a tent, a cooler, firewood, food, and actual campsite.

It’s hot, and you feel the sweat starting to dot the skin on your back and brow. The two of you had gotten out of the car to do a small hike that ended with a scenic overlook on the lake. The sun beats down on your hair and face, and you feel yourself regretting the walk almost instantly. Midsummer is not the time to go for a hike in the midday sun with no trees around. You follow another trail that leads to a tall rock and a look over the west side of the lake. It’s certainly a less exciting view, but it is still beautiful.

The expanse of the salt lake makes your jaw drop. It’s such a huge body of water. At times while you’re looking at it, you forget that it’s just a big lake. You can’t see the other side of it, just the mountains peaking up like a watercolor image on the other side. Looking out at the water, Namjoon slips his hand around your waist and pulls you close to him. His lips meet the soft, slightly sticky skin on your neck.

You make your way back to the campsite, complaining a little bit about how close to the dumpster you are. You wonder what it would be like to swim in the lake before the sun goes down, but, as you glance at the beach, you see that it’s crowded. You don’t want to deal with other people if you don’t have to, and you are so happy to just be in this place with Namjoon.

You set up the tent more quickly than you had in the past, finally getting used to the set up. You had your tent in your car from a camping trip that you’d taken before you’d driven to the Utah capitol to meet up with the man who you loved. There were limited times and places that you could see one another, and you were happy to meet him somewhere that you could explore together.

When you walk away from the tent, you see Namjoon sitting on the tailgate of the car, drinking his soda, smiling a goofy smile at you.

“What?” you ask, thinking he’s laughing at the way you set up the tent.

“I just love you so much,” he responds, standing and crossing over to you.

He plants his lips on your forehead, and his smile seems to spread to you. You lean up and press your lips to his.

“How do you feel about dinner?” he asks, gesturing toward the small stockpile of sandwich supplies.

You smile and gallop a little over to the car. He’d been making fun of you since you’d told him that you make the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the world.

“Oh? You looking to get in on my world famous skills?”

You grab the peanut butter, jelly, and bread and make your way toward the picnic table. You open each of the containers, then you look around feeling a little embarrassed.

“I...I don’t have a knife…” you mumble to him just loud enough for him to hear on the other side of the campsite.

He laughs and pulls from his pocket a camping spoon that you must have left sitting in the back of the car with the rest of the camping supplies. You hang your head sarcastically, closing the space between the two of you, grabbing the spoon, kissing his lips, and making your way back to the picnic table.

“Just make a bunch,” he says. “We’ll keep them and eat them whenever we want.”

You happily make the sandwiches while you put on a pithy, indie pop song on your phone. You dance a little as you make them, creating a pile of sandwiches on the table. Your fingers are a little sticky with the residue of peanut butter, and you cheerfully lick them clean. Namjoon sneaks up behind you, and he whispers in your ear.

“You’re so cute shaking your hips like that.”

You giggle and push your ass back against him, wiggling your hips to the beat.

“Oh, are you going to be a naughty little slut?” he asks as you keep gyrating.

You can’t help the giggle from turning into a full-blown laugh. You grab one of the PBJs from the table and hand it to him over your shoulder. You grab one for yourself and happily munch on it as you grind against your boyfriend.

The two of you goof off and laugh and play for the rest of the evening until the sun starts to fade over the west side of the lake. The pastel oranges and pinks paint the sky as you start to build up the base of the fire in the firepit. Namjoon tells you that he wants to help, but he kind of has no idea how to start a campfire, so you take the lead. It’s windy, so the flame doesn’t immediately catch. Eventually, you get the small spark built up into a blaze.

The sun disappears completely toward the ocean, and the temperature immediately drops. You wrap your sweater around your shoulders, even though you are wearing a skirt. Being around Namjoon makes you want to be able to drop your panties at any moment. The skirt made that extremely easy.

You talk, smoke some weed, and sit close to each other as the fire continues to crackle next to you. The insects and the fire combine to make a soundtrack to your perfect night with Namjoon.

You make a cheeky comment to Namjoon about not wearing underwear, and he slips his fingers up under the hem of your skirt. The fingertips skate over your folds, and you shiver slightly. You are always wet around Joon, but you feel yourself growing even wetter.

“Lie down,” he commands in your ear.

You whimper slightly from the back of your throat, and you press your chest against the cold metal of the bench of the picnic table. Namjoon slides his fingers over your folds from behind, and you shudder. You press back against him, and he puts his hand on your shoulder. He presses you down harder into the bench, the pressure hurting slightly.

His fingers slide into your entrance, the wetness making them slide with ease. He curls his fingers, and you feel yourself immediately cumming around them. The pressure within you releases in small moans spilling over your lips. You try to push his fingers further into you, but his other hand holds you still.

As you come down from your orgasm, his hand still presses you into the bench, and his fingers still work inside of you. You feel the pleasure building up inside of you again, nearly overflowing immediately.

“Cum for me,” he goads from behind you in a sultry voice.

The pleasure overcomes you completely, and the moans that escape your mouth are louder this time. He keeps going, and you’re not sure that he ever intends to stop working your sensitive spots, waiting to overwhelm you until you can’t possibly cum anymore.

You weren’t nearly there yet though.

HIs fingers continue to work inside of you, and he slips one finger over your clit. It sends you over the edge again. Your moans start to transform into cries as his fingers curl up.

He laughs to himself. “You want everyone at this campground to know what a filthy little slut you are for me, don’t you?”

You can hardly even process his words as you let out an “mhm” and nod your head. Your face presses into the cold metal. You feel the drool from your open mouth pooling next to your cheek on the bench. You wiggle your hips slightly against your boyfriend’s fingers.

“Can’t get enough, can you, my naughty whore?” Namjoon continues to gently taunt you as he fingers you.

The hand that’s on your shoulder travels up your back and into your hair. He pulls it slightly, so your face is lifted an inch or so off the bench. He pushes his fingers deeper inside you, knowing exactly what to do to drive you wild. A pressure and pleasure that you’ve never felt before starts to build inside of you. It feels like something is going to burst. You can’t control the primal animalistic sounds that are pouring from your mouth.

“You gonna cum for me again, baby?” Namjoon asks in a husky voice.

You nod slightly, and the pressure begins to escape from inside you. Something is bursting, gushing forth. For a second you can’t think, but you are unsure what is happening.

“Oh my nasty little princess. Are you squirting for me?” Namjoon teases as his fingers continue to work inside of you.

You ride his fingers and your orgasm. When you finally come down, the pressure inside of you is overwhelming and uncomfortable. His fingers slow, and you wriggle away as much as you can with his fingers in your hair. He slowly lets your head back down, gently running his fingers over your back. Namjoon takes his fingers from inside you, and you hear him lick them off. With both hands, he grabs your ass, plants a kiss on one cheek, then he pulls your skirt back over your ass.

“My naughty little girl is tired, huh?” he asks as he runs his fingers tenderly through your hair.

You nod your head lazily, starting to become aware of how wet your skirt is. That had never happened to you before, and you felt a little bit confused about what had happened. The wet fabric sits against you, but you can’t bring yourself to do anything about the discomfort you’re feeling.

Namjoon pulls you up gently from the bench and wraps his arms around you. You bury your head in his chest, brain completely fuzzy. Everything seems to have a shiny vignette around it, maybe from nearly hyperventilating, maybe from the pleasure, maybe from being so deeply in love. You can’t be quite sure.

Namjoon plants a kiss upon your forehead, your nose, and each of your cheeks. “I love you silly, baby.”

Your eyes turn up to his face. You feel like your face is going to be permanently stuck in a smile while you look at him.

“I love you too, my love,” you whisper and press your lips against his jawline.

You cuddle with one another near the fire for the rest of the evening, relishing every single moment that you have together. You can’t sleep until the twilight of morning starts to spill over the sandy campground, and you finally fall asleep in his strong arms, sleepy and happy.

#namjoon smut #btswritingcafe #btsguild #namjoon x reader #bts smut #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #bangtanfairygarden #heartsforbts #rm smut #rm x reader #bts namjoon #bts rm #rm fanfic #knj x reader #knj smut #oops #posted the rough draft first

247 notes · View notes

verai-marcel · 4 years ago

Text

Holiday Surprise (RDR2 Fanfic, Charles x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Charles have been together for a few months, but after the two of you officially got together, all of your couplings had been rather soft and sweet. Despite how nice it was with him, you wanted something naughtier, something rougher, something more. And you knew exactly how to get it from him.

Author’s Notes: Secret Santa gift for my dear @fangirl-ramblings! A little naughty Christmas story about getting railed by a very giving, very loving Charles Smith. I’d say this takes place in 1907, after the events of the game, while Charles is making his way north towards Canada.

Tags: Charles x F!Reader, smutty smut smut, holiday feels, probably some holiday anachronisms, tied up wrists, light bdsm, some spanking, rough sex, doggy style, creampie

Word Count: 3139

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

You were a fiery, passionate woman, with the wits and cunning for making money from any situation, although you drew the line at taking advantage of the poor and pitiful. Anyone else, however, was fair game. It was with this mindset that you had tricked dozens of men who fell for your charms, believing that you would spend a night in their arms. Instead, you just drugged their whiskey and left town with their cash stuffed down your corset as you traveled to the next town, galloping away on your horse and howling in victory.

But then you met your match, when, on your way through Montana, you ran into a man with black hair, a dark complexion, and the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen. His face had scars that told an intriguing tale, and you had longed to trace every line.

With every intention to fuck and run, you seduced him, riding his thick cock under the river of stars on a summer’s night. The sounds of your pleasure enraptured him, and he breathed your name as if it was his final prayer to the heavens as he spent himself all over your soft skin. When he awoke, you were gone, with his purse in your possession and lingering regrets in your heart.

He tracked you, chased you to the edge of the country, and when he finally caught you, he kissed you before picking you up and taking you into the forest, away from the road where a passerby might see you.

“Did you really think you could get rid of me, wildcat?”

You were taken then, hard and fast on the forest floor, giving in completely to his wanton possession. Wrapping your arms and legs around him, you screamed his name as you let go, your release taking over your body, your heart, your soul.

“Charles, Charles!”

He tied you down with ropes and dark, carnal words, and you never, ever, wanted him to let you go.

***

A few months later, the two of you had become inseparable. Charles was a good man to you; he treated you as an equal, able to do the same amount of work, if not the same type. And he never disrespected your abilities. Currently, the two of you live in a small cabin on a ranch in Montana where the two of you had met.

You had changed your ways, using your wits to help with logistics at a ranch, helping with scheduling deliveries, while Charles worked with the animals. His gentle touch had him working with the cattle and horses the most, and while that meant long hours, he still made time to take care of you almost every night, whether it was making you a meal if you were tired, or giving you a massage to relax you on nights when you had to do a lot of paperwork.

Many nights, his gentle care turned into slow love making, his hands and mouth worshipping your body until you pushed him down and rode him passionately, taking every last drop of him. But he never fucked you the way he did that night. He never tied you up, even when you begged for it. Sex was fun, but your thoughts always strayed back to that one night when he lost his calm and fucked you like a raging beast, holding you down, stuffing you full of his thick shaft over and over again until you cried from the number of times you released around him.

You hated to say it, but you longed for more passion, more lust from him. Charles was like a cute puppy, always eager to please you, but you knew deep inside of him, a wolf was just clawing under the surface, ready to leap out and dominate you. Perhaps he was afraid that he’d hurt you, or that he’d scare you with the intensity of his desire. However, you were not afraid; rather, you wanted to see this side of him, wanted him to lose control like he did that night.

You just had to bring it out of him.

With Christmas fast approaching, you were making secret preparations, on top of the small holiday dinner the two of you were already planning. Working on this ranch meant the two of you had your own little cabin on the land so you could be close to the barn, with relative privacy. For fun, you had decorated the walls with strings of popcorn and wreaths made with pine tree branches and pine cones. Charles had helped you hang your decorations, and had gathered whatever items you needed to make your home just a bit more festive. He got extra candles from the general store, cut a portion of a pine tree and brought it inside for you to decorate. He even bought you ingredients so you could make star-shaped cookies to adorn the tree.

He got you everything you wanted, except for one thing. You hoped that your secret gift would entice him into giving you exactly what you wanted.

***

“All done for the day?” you asked as Charles came in from the snow on the evening before Christmas, stamping his boots before taking them off.

“Yup. Cattle are all settled, horses are safe in the barn with enough hay for a few days.” He took off his coat and hung it on the coat hook next to the door, patting off the accumulated snow. “Looking forward to our day off?”

“Sure am,” you replied as you got up and walked over to hug him. “But first, look above you.”

Charles looked up and grinned at what he saw. “Mistletoe, huh?” Leaning down, he gave you a chaste peck on the lips. “As if I needed an excuse to kiss you.”

You pulled him down and kissed him again, forcing him to prolong the contact by digging your hands into his lush hair. Opening your lips, you licked his bottom lip, encouraging him to open his and invited his tongue to a dance, the kiss deepening as your desire heated your body.

But his movements were unhurried, his big hands sliding down your body slowly so he could enjoy the curve of your hips and your backside. He finally pulled back, making you whimper. “Sweetness,” he murmured, tracing your cheekbone tenderly, “you need to eat first. Then we can play.”

You huffed and pulled away from him, both annoyed that he was right and playing the part of being a brat, hoping that he’d lose some patience with you.

Raising an eyebrow, Charles said nothing more as he led you towards the kitchen, and the two of you made your meal and ate it peacefully at the table.

It wasn’t until after everything was cleaned and put away that you tried again.

“Charles,” you cooed. “I have a surprise for you.”

He looked at you, curious. “Oh?”

“Close your eyes.”

He obeyed without question.

You got up from your chair and went to the chest of drawers, digging into the bottom of the lowest drawer and pulling out one part of your special gift. Going back to stand before him, you undid the top three buttons of your blouse so that your cleavage peaked out. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, not because you were nervous, but because you were getting too excited. “Open your eyes.”

Charles did so, and his eyes immediately traveled to your chest. You could feel his hot gaze as if it were his fingers, tracing the curves of your breasts. It was as if just his stare alone could caress your nipples, for they suddenly ached with need.

Then he saw the rope in your hands. It was a horsehair rope that you had made in your spare time, diligently weaving and re-weaving it until it was strong enough to hold someone, but soft to the touch. He looked back up at your face in confusion.

“I want you to tie me up,” you purred, setting the rope down on the table and undoing your skirt buttons in front of him. He sat, entranced by the fabric gliding down your body, revealing your bare thighs. You had chosen not to wear any drawers tonight; you wanted to tease him as much as possible, to break his hold on his self-control.

You could see the outline of his bulge in his pants as he swallowed audibly. “Sweetness,” he rasped, “what’re you on about?”

Undoing the rest of your blouse, you revealed your other secret gift: a chemise and corset that pushed your breasts up. The chemise was dyed black to complement the dark red of the corset, with its black ribbons and lace.

Charles let out a low rumble. “Such a beautiful lady,” he murmured. “C’mere, let me touch you.”

You shook your head. Grabbing the rope from the table, you pushed him back on the chair and wrapped it around him twice. Tying a square knot at his chest, you smiled. “No touching.”

He tested the ropes, wriggling in his seat. It was clear to both of you that if he chose to, he could easily get free, but he decided to play your game. For now.

So you went down on your knees and slowly undid the buttons of his pants and then his drawers, looking up at him to smile and watch his reaction as you nuzzled his bulge. When you finally reached in and freed his cock, stroking him into full hardness, he was breathing heavily.

With your eyes locked onto his, you took him into your mouth. He groaned, his hips jerking upwards. You put your hands on his thighs and started to suck on him in earnest, bobbing your head up and down, slowing your rhythm when you felt him tensing, and speeding up when you could hear him catching his breath. After a while, you reached down to stroke your clit while you sucked on him, letting your own moans vibrate against his shaft. Your tongue swirled around the head of his cock, making him let out a prolonged moan.

“How long are you going to keep me on edge?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

You grinned as you gave him one last lick and stood up. Straddling him, you grasped his hardness and lowered yourself slowly, sinking onto him one inch at a time until he was completely sheathed in you. You felt him twitch inside of you, and you laughed gleefully.

“I’m warning you,” he rumbled.

“Warning me of what?” you sneered, lifting yourself off him until on the tip was inside. “What are you goin’ to do? You’re. Nothing. But. A. Cuddly. Puppy,” you taunted, punctuating your words with each bounce, sliding halfway down before moving back up.

Charles growled before flexing, the square knot that you had so haphazardly tied loosening like his self-control. He reached up and untied it, setting himself free before grabbing onto your hips and pulling you down to grind hard against him.

“A puppy, huh?” He picked you up, holding you close and walked over to the bed. He nearly shoved you down; his roughness made you shiver with anticipation. He ripped off his clothes in a rush before grabbing the rope and stalking towards you, that primal lust in his eyes, just like that wondrous night. You felt your pussy flow with your desire, as if it knew what was about to happen.

“You want this?” he growled, grabbing your wrists and tying them together. Without waiting for your answer, he flipped you over and folded you until you were on your knees. Slapping your ass, he uttered, “On your knees.”

You quickly obeyed, craving his command. Caressing your backside, he rubbed the head of his cock against your folds, dipping inside of you just a little bit before pulling out to rub against your clit. Over and over, he teased you until you were begging for him to fuck you.

“I don’t think so, sweetness. You tortured me so ruthlessly. I think I owe you the same.” Then he leaned over, one arm holding himself up as he gripped your chin and turned your head to the side to meet his gaze. “Or are you goin’ to be a good girl?”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

A feral grin grew on his face as he let go of your jaw. His hands suddenly grasped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. “Have it your way.”

That was your only warning before he plunged inside of you with a low snarl. Staying inside of you, he pressed you down onto the bed, his chest against your back. His hands slid up your body, one arm wrapping around your shoulders, the other digging into your hair. Moving his hips up slowly, he chuckled darkly into your ear before starting a ruthless pace. Charles fucked you hard, making the bed bounce with the strength of his powerful thrusts.

You cried out, your screams louder than the winter wind outside. Wrapping one hand around your mouth to stifle your sounds, he kept pounding into you, his deep moans of pleasure in your ear.

“That’s it girl, take what I give you,” he uttered into your ear. “It’s what you need, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes Charles, I need your cock inside of me, I need to be fucked!” you babbled when Charles let go of your mouth. You were losing your mind as he took you with an intense need to mark you as absolutely, decisively his.

He stopped long enough to roll the two of you over, his cock still sheathed inside of you. Reaching down, he stroked your core with one hand as he grabbed your breast and squeezed, teasing your nipple as he gave you shallow thrusts. Your body tightened when he slapped your breast before reaching around you to rub and pinch the other one, giving it the same treatment.

“I can feel your pussy tighten around me. You’re close, aren’t you?”

You could only moan as he rubbed your center harder, faster.

“Come for me, sweetness. Show me how much you love having my cock inside of you.”

You let out a strangled cry as your climax hit you hard, your legs straightening out, your toes curling, the sweat from your body making you slippery in his grasp as he tried to hold you down. He wrung every last spasm of pleasure from you, not letting up the sweet, sinful pressure on your core until you started begging for him to stop.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he teased, gently rolling you off of him. He got up to kneel before you, positioning you with your back on the bed, your legs spread wide open and still twitching from your last climax. Pressing his cock against your oversensitized clit, he rubbed against you, watching you writhe with too much pleasure, driving you insane.

“Oh my lord, fuck, oh god,” you rambled as your hips twisted back and forth, trying to avoid his touch. But Charles grabbed your hips and held you down as he rocked his hips back and forth, his shaft sliding around your sensitive areas. You could only whimper as you knew you were helpless to resist him now.

Not that you wanted to. Your pussy still dripped with how much you wanted him to fuck you.

Charles let you breathe for a moment before he leaned forward and pushed his member deep inside of you with one stroke. “You want my spend, wildcat?”

“Yes!” you hissed, lifting your hips up. “I want it, I need it!”

“Of course you do. And only I can give it to you,” he rumbled as he started thrusting, slowly at first, then moving faster and faster as he lost control of himself. He fell upon you, like a hungry wolf onto his prey, covering you with his wide chest, his big, muscular arms surrounding you and holding you close. “Tell me you want it inside.”

“Yes, please Charles, spend inside of me, I want it deep,” you begged.

Charles let out a guttural moan as he thrust hard, pushing inside of you as deep as he could, and stayed there as he released himself inside of you, filling you full. He let out a few more grunts of exertion, lifting his hips and pumping more inside of you until you felt his release spilling from your body.

“Fuck,” he sighed, contentedly. Then he suddenly lifted off of you and collapsed beside you. He reached up and untied your wrists, frowning at the red marks on your skin.

“You alright, sweetness?” he asked, kissing each of your wrists.

“I’m better than alright,” you replied, drunk on the intense afterglow. Cuddling closer to him, you hummed happily when you felt him wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest.

“I’m glad,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Guess I should’ve known you could handle me being… a little rougher with you.”

You looked up at him. “What stopped you before?”

Charles cupped your cheek and looked at you so tenderly that you nearly teared up. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

You gently flicked his nose with your finger. “You silly man. I’ll tell you if something hurts.”

“You usually don’t.”

You opened your mouth to argue before you realized that he was right. You usually didn’t complain about aches and pains, but he would see you stretching or groaning and would chastise you for not telling him. “This is different. But I promise I’ll tell you if I’m hurt from now on,” you said.

“Thank you.” He kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose. “Ready to sleep, sweetness?”

You nodded and yawned.

He chuckled as he nuzzled you with his cheek. “Good night, my love.”

***

“Happy Christmas, my sweet flower,” Charles said as you awoke, blinking your eyes as the dawn light filtered in through the one window of your cabin. Nestling into his chest, you wanted to sleep for a little longer, but knowing what an early bird Charles was, you grumbled and started to get up.

“Who said anything about getting out of bed,” he said, pulling you back down on top of him. You felt the long hard length of him against your thigh and saw the sly smile on his face.

Straddling him, you rolled your hips and coated his cock with your wetness. “My mistake,” you joked. “Guess you’ll need to teach me the right way to spend Christmas morning.”

He rolled the two of you over and slipped his cock inside of you slowly. “Gladly,” he said before kissing you and starting a gentle rhythm that sent you soaring.

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

End Notes: Merry Christmas @fangirl-ramblings! Hope you like your secret santa gift!!!

#charles smith #rdr2 #charles x fem!reader #nsft #writing #rdr2 fanfic #fanfic #lemon fanfic

104 notes · View notes

swordandboardllc · 4 years ago

Text

All You Will Ever Need To Know About Writing Horses, Part 1.

Trust me, I’m not exaggerating with that title. Before I became a full-time writer, I spent my days teaching riding lessons. I went to university for Equine Sciences, and spent my teenage years apprenticing under a marvelous horseman who taught both working cowhorse and fixed ‘problem’ horses.

Note: if a term isn’t defined, feel free to ask for the definition in the comments. It likely isn’t a term you would want to use in a fantasy setting, but further education is always awesome!

Getting the Details Correct: Why Does It Matter?

Immersion, first and foremost. Horseback riding is not an uncommon hobby, especially among fantasy readers. While some readers are fairly forgiving of issues, it’s one of my personal biggest pet peeves. So to make it easy for writers, here are all the major details most people don’t know, don’t get correct, etc etc.

The Basics: horse 101

Anatomy

Hoof & Leg

Horses stand on what is the equivalent to the human middle fingernail. The leg is the equivalent of the finger. That’s why horse legs are spindly and fragile.

hooves need to be picked out by their caregivers (riders or grooms) at minimum before and after riding. Debris can get caught in the grooves of the hoof (or in the shoes) which can lead to injuries (think of if you had a piece of gravel jammed under your fingernail and then had to type with it)

Mouth

Horses have a space between their incisors before their molars, which is where the bit fits in their mouth.

The older the horse is, the more ground down their teeth are and the harder it is for them to break down forage.

Eyes

Horses have horizontal pupils, though their eyes are dark enough you don’t normally see them. Because their eyes are on the sides of their heads, they have blind spots directly in front of their nose, below their neck, and behind their tail.

Horses have terrible depth perception. They aren’t colorblind, but they are dichromatic (unlike humans who are trichromatic) and see blues and greens. No reds.

Tack (Gear)

Halters & Lead Ropes/Shanks

Rope or leather that goes around a horse’s muzzle, along the cheeks, and then behind the ears and below the jaw. Depending on the time period and culture, these can be plain and simple or highly decorated.

Arabian halters are usually styled differently as a thing chain that goes behind the ears, sometimes across the brown, down the cheeks and around the muzzle.

Halters do not have anything go into the horse’s mouth and the lead rope attaches underneath it. Halters can be left on when the horse is being ridden (under the bridle) and the lead rope can be tied around the neck or attached to the saddle if there is a place for it.

Bridles

The general style of a bridle is similar to a halter, except that instead of having a piece that attaches around the muzzle (a noseband), the cheek pieces attach to the bit.

Reins attach to the bit and then go back to the rider. There are two main types of rein: split reins and loop reins. Loop reins are one single piece of leather (or two that buckle or tie together in the middle) from one end of the bit to the other. Split reins are two pieces of leather, one for each side of the bit. Managing split reins can be very difficult for beginner riders (I always tied them together to make a loop rein or just gave my students loop reins until they mastered the basics).

Bits

There are too many different types to break down and this isn’t for the faint of heart to play around with. If you really want to get into this level of detail, comment and I’ll give you more info!

Bitless Bridles, Hackamores, Riding Halters, etc.

Lead ropes can be made into loop reins and the halter can be turned into a bitless bridle in this way. The average, well started horse will understand the pressure cues being given this way.

Saddles

Modern day saddles come in two main types: western and english. Both of these riding styles have ancient roots. Western saddles are bulkier, with a horn in the front. English saddles are smaller and lightweight.

Many ‘working saddles’ have a built up pommel area in the front of the saddle (in front of where your thighs would be if you were in the saddle). Consider what sort of setting you have, what kind of tools horses are being used for, etc. in your worldbuilding to figure out what kinds of saddles make the most sense.

Cinch/Girth

Cinch is the western term for the band that goes underneath the horse’s belly and keeps the saddle in place. Girth is the english term for it. As long as you keep consistent, either word is an acceptable term to use. To tack up properly, you need to “tighten the cinch”.

Stirrups need to be adjusted between riders that have different leg lengths. So if you have an extremely tall character and an extremely short one, please take a moment to adjust the stirrups before they sit in a saddle the other was riding in.

Saddle Blankets

Saddle blankets go underneath the saddle as a protective layer between the saddle and the horse. Western style saddles have lambskin on the underside of the saddle to have additional padding for the horse, but still require a blanket.

English style saddle blankets (saddle pads) are smaller and thinner than the western blankets as the english saddle is smaller and lighter.

"“Are you sure you are?” Loralee asked, glancing dubiously at Jin’s tack. Loralee handed her mare to Jin before double-checking the amira’s saddle. The cinch tightened an inch. Loralee buckled the clip and retied the knot before taking her mare back from Jin." -- Chapter 8, The Dying Sun by L.J. Stanton

Diet & Care Needs

Obligate herbivores with one stomach, horses need frequent small meals to keep their gut-fill at appropriate levels. Large meals several times a day is harder on a horse’s body.

Horses primarily eat roughage (grasses). They can also have their diet supplemented with different grains, fruits, and vegetables.

Fun fact: horses don’t get drunk off beer.

Personality & Body Language (They Aren’t Dogs)

Horses are prey animals first and foremost, unlike dogs, and react to the world through that lens. It means there is a high likelihood of horses spooking at nothing, or at dark spots on the ground. They tend to be cautious at water crossings unless trained. They can be loyal, but they certainly don’t do things like wag their tails happily.

Whinnying and nickering aren’t anywhere near as common a behaviour as movies and television would have you believe (once again, prey animals). Horses will shriek, whinny, and nicker to communicate with each other for different reasons.

Blowing (exhaling loudly) in combination with lip licking is a stress relief/self soothing behaviour.

Horses greet each other by sniffing noses and smelling breath. A horse will do the same with a person or an animal that comes up to it (like a dog or a cat).

Pinned ears are a threat and sign of imminent danger. Pinned ears are usually followed by nipping, biting, shrieking, striking, and/or kicking

Striking is with the forelegs, kicking with the back legs.

HERD DYNAMICS

Lead Mare

decides where the herd stops to graze, drink, etc. etc.

helps decide whether or not spooking is necessary

Lead Stallion

protects the herd from predators and competition

Mares

make up the rest of the herd. These may be a group of sisters and aunts, but mares will come and go from herds as other stallions harass/steal mares, so they aren’t always related. Liking the stallion has a greater bond than family.

Bachelor Bands

colts (male foals) are kicked out of their birth herds when they reach sexual maturity. For safety, they will often form bachelor bands. During mating season, these bands may break up or splinter depending on whether there are herds with mares nearby.

Gaits (speeds)

Walk (4 beat)

Trot (2 beat, diagonals)

Canter/Lope (3 beat)

Gallop (4 beat with hang time)

See Part 2 in two weeks for Riding!

Want to support what we do here? Become a Patron!

#horses #writing horses #writing tips #writing technique #fantasy horses #writing fantasy #worldbuilding #world building

28 notes · View notes

hale-13 · 4 years ago

Text

Caliber

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 12 - Death

Peter grew up like most American kids running active shooter drills thinking (hoping) it would never happen to him.

Words: 2338, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, Various Midtown Students and Faculty

TW: TW: Gun Violence, Blood, Major Character Injury, Possible MCD (if you choose to interpret it that way)

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Growing up, Peter spent his early childhood in lower level genetics labs with his parents. Part of this was simply because they worked some weird hours at OsCorp but the other part was definitely because they recognized his intelligence and talent early and would give him easy experiments to run while they worked. Safe? Eh, maybe not but Peter had fun.

Well, until they died that is.

After that Peter would spend his time in the hospital daycare or nurse’s break room or sitting at Ben’s desk in the bullpen at the precinct where he worked. Daycare and babysitters were expensive and Peter was having a little separation anxiety from becoming an orphan at six. Peter accredits this formative time in his life to why he has a healthy respect of first responders, why he goes out every night in spandex to help his neighborhood (even if the cops hate him).

After the funeral, after May and Ben went back to work and started taking Peter with them, Ben sat Peter down to go over basic gun safety with him. He can remember that initial conversation pretty vividly: Ben had sat Peter down on the couch and had pulled out his unloaded side arm and the small safe he stored it in. He told Peter just how dangerous weapons could be in untrained hands, how Peter could easily hurt himself or others if he ever touched it, how Ben would always have it locked up but, on the off chance it wasn’t, Peter was to never touch it.

Peter had readily agreed and had steered clear of Ben’s belt and the gun safe next to his side of the bed his whole childhood.

The officers that Ben worked with were, for the most part, super nice to Peter and always took time out of their days to talk to him, bring him snacks and (attempt) to help him with his homework and Peter grew to be the most comfortable in the loud bullpen or the adjacent break room. The summer before he started his freshman year at Midtown, Ben and some of the other officers had given Peter a crash course in gun safety – how to clean, care and shoot a weapon – and it only took one trip to dash Peter’s dreams of working in law enforcement; he never wanted to handle a gun again.

Holding his uncle’s body as he bled out a few months later from the massive hole left in his back by the .45 caliber handgun only solidified that decision.

Luckily, in his tenure as Spider-Man, Peter tended to run into more sub-Ultron and Chitauri fare than the classic handguns and rifles he was familiar with which suited him just fine. When he did come across a run of the mill mugger or rapist who was using a pistol or something similar, Peter took great pleasure in using his super strength to rip it into tiny pieces – destroyed beyond repair and off the streets for good.

This had resulted in some unfortunate bullet grazes and full-on holes in his body that had prompted his helicopter mentor (under the order of Aunt May of course) to force him through another gun safety lecture, complete with a practical portion where Colonel Rhodes assisted in teaching Peter how to properly disarm and disassemble a variety of different sidearms. It was definitely cool to spend time with Actual War Machine but Peter rushed through it as quickly and throughly as possible. He never wanted to have the easy comfort with weapons that Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes had – he preferred non-lethal disarmament when patrolling.

All this said – Peter probably had more experience and knowledge with various weapons (human and otherwise) than he had any right to.

All of this experience, all of his time as Spider-Man, everything he had been through did nothing to help keep him calm and collected when his principal came over the intercom while Peter was in gym class to announce a code red shelter in place order. Like most high schoolers in America, Peter had gone through numerous school safety drills so he, in theory, knew what to do in a emergency.

In practice? Not so much.

Coach Wilson had looked just as pale and stunned as the class but had recovered quickly enough to rush the doors. A few other students had also started moving to gather some of the wrestling mats to roll in front of the doors once Coach Wilson had gotten them closed and locked.

He, unfortunately, wasn’t quick enough.

Brian Anderson, a sophomore Peter recognized from the debate team, forced the door open, brandishing the small revolver in a shaky hand. His face was pale, eyes red rimmed with tears with such a desolate look it made Peter’s own heart clench in sympathy despite his rapid heart-rate.

“Back up,” he whispered, using the gun to gesture for the coach to step away and the man obliged; holding his hands up in surrender and slowly backing away from the door. Some of Peter’s classmates, including Ned who, for once, wasn’t right at Peter’s side in class but across the room from him, had started to cry. Michelle, looking stony faced but terrified underneath it all, was trying to shush Betty Brant who was in the middle of a full blown panic attack and trying not to draw attention to herself.

“Okay,” Coach Wilson said, motioning the class members closest to him to back up with one raised hand, his eyes never leaving the weapon. “You’re calling the shots here Brian.”

Brian sniffled, fresh tears spilling over his eyes and hand trembling as he surveyed the room, eventually moving the barrel to point at Mark Conley, one of Flash’s friends and a notorious online bully. Both boys had gone nearly ghost white and the class seemed to be holding its collective breath.

“Sorry Ben,” Peter thought. “Sorry Mr. Stark.”

“Brian,” he called out, voice sounding much more steady than he predicted it would since he was just Peter Parker right now and not Spider-Man. “You don’t want to do this man.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Brian spit out, anger over-ruling all of his other feelings and his eyes landing on Peter. “You don’t know what I want to do!”

“I promise you don’t want to do this,” Peter said calmly. “I know what they’re like. You think they treat me any better than you? You’ll regret this if you do it.”

Brian snorted out a dry laugh, not looking like he found anything remotely funny. “Then you should want me to do this.” He said, cherry picking Peter’s words.

“But I don’t,” Peter told him, edging closer to the other boy, making sure to put his body in front of Mark as he moved closer. “Do you know how my uncle died?” Brian, eyes locked with Peter’s, shook his head nearly imperceptibly. “He was shot by some guy robbing a bodega. He bled out in my arms before emergency services could arrive.” Peter said bluntly, doing the best to ignore how his heart clenched and his eyes burned.

The barrel of Brian’s gun dipped down to point more toward the floor and Peter took a few cautious steps forward, stopping when he was only about five feet away. “They won’t stop,” Brian whispered, the tears flowing heavier but his finger still in place over the trigger. “It just keeps getting worse and I can’t take it. I can’t do this anymore!”

“I know,” Peter said, voice soft, dropping his hands down to rest loosely at his sides. He really wishes he had his web-shooters, secret identity be damned. He was never taking them off again, no matter what May tried to tell him about work/life balance. “I know what its like and it sucks but they aren’t worth throwing your whole life away. It’s not worth hurting all the innocent people you’ll hurt. You don’t want to do that to your friends and family.”

“I don’t have any friends!” Brian said loudly, raising the gun back up to point at Peter but Peter didn’t move from his relaxed position even though he felt his heart speed up to a gallop. He faced possible injury and death at least once a week but that was always as Spider-Man… never as Peter Parker.

“I’m your friend,” Peter told him, a little desperate but honest. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Brian gasped and let the pistol drop to his side in a loose grip. “Just hand me the gun Brian okay? And then we can talk about it, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Brian sniffed and rubbed his free hand over his face to wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Peter confirmed, holding out his hand. Brian nodded and lifted his hand to pass Peter the gun when everything went wrong. Betty, who had been hyperventilating through the entire exchange, finally passed out. MJ tried to catch her but the two of them hit the floor with a echoing bang that startled the whole class. Brian, gun lifted and finger still on the trigger, flinched and jerked to aim back at Mark, shooting.

Everything happened in slow motion for Peter and he grimaced at what he was about to do, saying mental apologies and throwing his body in the path of the bullet, jerking back at the feeling of it hitting him in the chest.

His breath knocked out and his consciousness already becoming more nebulous from the pain that was blooming in his lungs, Peter stumbled forward to yank the gun from Brian’s limp grasp, deftly unloading it with the last of his strength and with shaking hands before throwing the rounds to the opposite side of the gym; collapsing at the other boys feet.

“Oh god,” Brian whispered in horror. “Oh god Peter. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He tried to bend down next to Peter but was swiftly tackled by Abe and Jason where he was wrestled onto his front with them restraining his hands without a fight beyond his gulping sobs.

“You’re alright Parker,” Coach Wilson said soothingly as he rolled Peter onto his back and used his own hastily shed jacket to apply pressure to the steadily bleeding hole in Peter’s chest, causing him to grunt and squeeze his eyes shut in pain. “Thompson! Call 911 and tell them we have the shooter and we need emergency services in the gym. Conley run up to the office and tell Morita what happened!” Both boys jumped into action but Peter ignored it in favor of unsteadily pulling his own phone out of his pocket and sliding it to Ned who had joined the group along with a pale and teary Michelle.

“Call Tony,” Peter coughed out, blood staining his lips and leaked down the side of his face. “No hospital.”

Ned, shaking and crying worse than Peter had ever seen fumbled the phone with numb hands before giving up and pressing the panic button on the side of the phone. Feeling relieved that his mentor was on the way, Peter let his tired eyes close only to rip them open at the flick on his nose.

“It’s not nap time Tiger,” MJ told him, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t want to get detention again.”

“I think…” Peter gasped out, his lungs aching with the strain. “Think this… get me… a permanent… ‘get out of detention’… free card.”

Michelle ran soft fingers through his hair, helping him relax his clenching muscles. He could tell that Ned was on the phone and speaking in rapid, broken sentences. He could kind of hear the sirens approaching, the sound of the building evacuating, crying students. But nothing mattered as much as Michelle. “You just couldn’t help yourself huh?”

“You know… me,” Peter grunted, trying for a grin that didn’t show the tacky blood he was sure was staining his teeth. “No guts… no glory.”

“God you’re a disaster,” MJ said with a watery laugh, a single tear escaping to race down her cheek. Peter wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe it away but his arms were made of lead.

Before Peter could work up the energy to respond, the doors of the gym were blown off the hinges by repulsers as Tony rushed the room, suited up in his full armor and clearly panicked. “Peter!” He shouted as he stumbled out of the suit, falling to his knees next to Peter and hastily began applying his prototype nanotech bandage to the hole in Peter’s chest before rolling him on his side to repeat the process with his back.

Peter gagged at the change in position, his eyesight fading out to a pinprick of light and his hearing glitching out. The voices around him became ever more harried but Peter couldn’t make out what they were trying to say – all he knew was he was really tired. More tired than he had ever been maybe. Surely no one would mind if he took a little nap?

“Stay with me buddy,” he heard Mr. Stark say as cold, hard arms gripped under his back and knees, lifting him and causing him to nearly black out again. “Just a quick little flight to the Tower Petey,” Tony said, voice wavering and not its usual strong timbre. “Just hang with me for a few more minutes and then you can nap okay kiddo?”

“Tired,” Peter gasped out, chest seizing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Tony ordered, frantic and yelling over the wind buffeting them. When had they started flying? “Just stay awake.”

“Love May,” Peter whispered, his vision a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors that were rapidly fading. “Love you.”

“Peter!” Tony sounded so far away, Peter thought as his eyes closed against the colors and shapes and lights that were making him feel dizzy and sick.

Just a little nap.

No one would notice.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump12 #Prompt: Death #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump

20 notes · View notes

carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

Photo

“Oh, you're everything I'm wanting -- Come to think of it, I'm aching... On account of my transgression, Will you welcome this confession? Could this be out of line? Could this be out of line, To say you're the only one breaking me down like this? You're the only one I would take a shot on -- Keep me hanging on so contagiously...” ~“So Contagious” by Acceptance

x~x~x~x

In Estrid Soelberg’s @thatravenpuffwitch sixth year, there was a noticeable shift in the kelpie who’d taken on the identity of Rudolph Ollivander. Ru was as snarky and anti-status-quo as ever, but they also didn’t seem to look upon everyone with so much universal disdain or distrust. They would initiate a game of Wizard’s Chess with their fellow Ravenclaws now again, including Siobhan Llewelyn @kc-needs-coffee. They enjoyed spending time with Galen Stagg @cursebreakerfarrier, even going so far as to rope the meeker Gryffindor into helping him scare some of their classmates at the Shrieking Shack (which resulted in the two “running for the lives” to get away from their targets’ retaliation, Ru laughing their head off all the while). And with Estrid herself, Ru had actually started taking to asking her to dance with them and then whisking them away so that she wouldn’t have to deal with a hundred and one guys trying to court her at parties. Admittedly that particular behavior only made the rumor machine at school work double-time -- the entire school, it seemed like, saw Ru and Estrid as a couple, or at least sweet on each other, just because of how much time they spent together. It had been rather aggravating for both Ru and Estrid for a long time, even after they stopped actively hating each other and started nurturing a real friendship.

As their seventh year began, Ru’s relationships with both Galen and Estrid grew even closer. Before long, you wouldn’t see one without the other two. If Galen ever got bullied, Estrid and Ru would ride to his rescue. Whenever Estrid had to brave parties, Ru was her shadow, warding off all unwanted advances. And once, when Ru was challenged to a duel by a Gryffindor and one of his buddies and then attacked from behind upon them winning by throwing a potion in their opponent’s face, Galen went full-on “Papa Bear,” blocking the spell before it could land on Ru, disarming the bloke who’d attacked them, and sticking his wand right in the other Gryffindor’s face until he backed off. And as the three’s friendship grew stronger, Estrid really started to realize how much she dreaded the end of her time at Hogwarts. She’d miss spending time with Galen and Ru -- having them always there.

Ru in particular she hated the thought of saying goodbye to. As a kelpie, Ru had no real family, and they didn’t see themselves as having many prospects for a real future. They didn’t have very strong magic, and their life-span was short enough that they’d have trouble disguising themselves after a while.

“Sooner or later, any folks around me at a job or some such would start giving me the side eye,” Ru had said at the time, sounding rather grim and resigned, “they’d dismiss all the theories like botched Transfiguration or a Dark curse, and Bob’s your uncle, they’d figure out the truth. At that point...well. The game would really be over then, wouldn’t it?”

It was that masquerade that was central to Ru’s current life. They’d only gotten into Hogwarts by pretending to be Rudolph Ollivander, so without their identity as Rudolph, they didn’t have a pair of shoes to fill that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. And once that identity was taken from them and they were revealed for what they were, Ru seemed pretty convinced that no one would want to stick by them. They hadn’t even told Galen the truth about what they were yet, and Estrid suspected it was largely because they feared what their best friend would think, if he knew they’d stolen the identity of the Ravenclaw boy they’d drowned in the Lake four years ago. Estrid got the feeling that Ru was already preparing to say goodbye to their life as a human and retreat back to that solitary existence they led prior to attending Hogwarts...and that thought hurt Estrid. She hated the thought of Ru living out the rest of their life alone...only being able to look back at all of the fun things they did at Hogwarts, and never be able to try anything new ever again. Never be able to take any more pictures, or get any better at their crude animations, or even take a stroll through the pouring rain again...

The memory of the two of them dancing in the rain together the previous year rippled again over Estrid’s mind.

Ru had been so happy, just dancing with her in the rain and enjoying the squishing, squelching sounds made by their shoes and their sopping wet clothes. It just didn’t seem fair that someone who could be happy with so little had to condemn themselves to a life devoid of even those little pleasures. But could she really expect a wild creature to put their own self-preservation at risk -- expect Ru to actually brave the consequences of their past actions? As much fun as they had as a human, and as much fun as they had at school...well, it’d already seemed like they’d given up. Like they’d seen the writing on the wall and were prepared to go out quietly, like a very old cat sneaking out of the house to die in peace. And as human as they were...they were still a kelpie. Would they even be happy with the kind of life witches and wizards led post-Hogwarts -- one with structure, with employment and responsibilities -- with family?

Perhaps it was because of how guilty she felt about Ru’s situation that Estrid agreed to go with Ru when the kelpie decided to take advantage of the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend to sneak out to a photography exposition in a nearby Muggle town. It was likely because of his loyalty as a friend than Galen tagged along too...and perhaps because Siobhan Llewelyn had also caught wind that Ru was sneaking out and decided to tag along too.

It was a bit strange, dressing in something other than their school uniforms. Estrid had decided it would be practical to wear pants, since they’d probably have to be able to run quickly in case they got caught sneaking out or sneaking back in. She hadn’t been sure what Ru would do, exactly, since she’d never seen them in anything but their school uniform -- when Ru met up with them, though, dressed in a flared red hunting jacket and khaki trousers with no shirt underneath, she found herself completely unsurprised. Ru already never buttoned their uniform shirt, presumably because of how much they hated collars -- Estrid supposed it was only the next step, to walk around just in a jacket without any shirt on at all!

The exhibition showcased a series of so-called “moving pictures” -- compilations of still photographs that, when put together, created the illusion of movement. Magical photography tried to create such movement through the use of enchantments, like the kind used on enchanted portraits, but the technology of photography didn’t mesh well with those sorts of enchantments, since it was harder to “fold” the enchantments into the photographs the same way one could with paints, and so they were often poor quality and would often lose a lot of the magic trying to give them the ability to talk and move before long. But, as Ru pointed out to the others, these “moving pictures” the Muggles had developed could be played over and over and over again in a loop, and even if there was no sound included, the overall quality of the pictures remained the same.

“It doesn’t even try to recreate life, like wizards do with their pictures,” said Ru. “Instead it creates the illusion of life -- records one moment, rather than stupidly trying and failing to recreate everything that person was. And that one moment is enough! It’s more than enough. With that one moment recorded, you get all the information you need. You can fill in the blanks of everything else on your own.”

The four spent the day watching and enjoying moving pictures of walking in Paris, France, galloping horses, and even a girl feeding her cat. The entire time, Ru was transfixed, sitting awkwardly as ever on their chair between Estrid and Galen with their way-too-long legs crossed at a weird angle and leaning across their own lap to look at the pictures better. At one point, Ru leaned their head very far to the side close to Estrid, to try to see the picture from a certain angle, and their long black hair came down like a curtain beside Estrid’s face.

Biting back a laugh, Estrid carefully brought a hand up to smooth Ru’s hair out of her face. The gesture startled Ru and made them look at her.

“Here,” whispered Estrid with a fond smile.

She very gently reached up to tuck Ru’s hair behind their ear.

Ru’s face flushed slightly. Their electric blue eyes darted off to the side.

“...Thanks,” they muttered.

Close by, a couple of older matrons whispered amongst themselves.

“Ah, that’s how the couples are split, then -- left and right pairs -- ”

“Such a strange-looking pair on the right, wouldn’t you say?”

“Perhaps...but look at that dark-haired lad, he’s clearly smitten -- ”

“Is that a lad? Good heavens, that hair -- ”

Estrid shot a tired look over her shoulder.

“Sounds like people are jumping to that old conclusion again,” she said to Ru with a wry smile.

Ru was still blushing slightly, their mouth twisted in a frown. “...Mm.”

No snarky comment? That was odd. Ru would hardly ever pass up the chance to scoff about how humans’ ideas of “romance” and courting were utterly bizarre. Instead there was almost something...grim in their expression.

People wouldn’t be making that mistake anymore, Estrid thought sadly, if Ru disappeared back into the void, once their class graduated...

The kelpie returned their focus back to the screen, and Estrid followed suit gladly. At least it seemed Galen and Siobhan were too distracted talking amongst themselves to overhear.

Unfortunately the group couldn’t stay for the entire exposition, if they wanted to sneak their way back into school with the rest of the kids enjoying their Hogsmeade weekend without getting caught. And although Ru flagrantly ignored the rules most of the time, they seemed oddly concerned about the others’ feelings on the matter, for once.

“Don’t want your whole future getting derailed right as you’re reaching the finish line, do you?” they said rather gruffly.

Estrid had almost never heard the kelpie think of the future that way before. But, of course, even then...it was their friends’ futures. Not their own. Because they didn’t think they’d have any chance of a future themselves...

As the four sat together at the table in the Three Broomsticks, chatting and laughing over some butterbeers and pickled oysters, a fiery, robust feeling was slowly forming in Estrid’s chest, crystallizing and hardening like some kind of flaming hot diamond.

Ru deserved a future. Even if they had once drowned somebody and stolen his identity -- even if they’d nearly eaten a first year -- they’d grown so much since then, and Estrid had seen there was so much more to them since then. Ru deserved to be able to keep living as a human as long as they wanted. They deserved to live their life to its fullest, even if it was short. They deserved to have somewhere safe to go, even if everyone else found out the truth about what they were and turned their backs on them. ...They deserved to be happy.

“Estrid?”

Estrid felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. It was Ru, looming over her like a shadow as always.

“Everyone’s getting ready to leave,” they prompted her.

Estrid looked up. All the students in the Three Broomsticks were gathering together in a clump that migrated toward the door. Galen and Siobhan had already started heading out too, whispering amongst themselves -- Galen shot a very quick glance over his shoulder at them and smiled before turning back to Siobhan.

“...So they are,” said Estrid.

Despite this, she found herself not immediately getting to her feet. She stayed seated for another moment, her eyes on the table. She could sense Ru watching her, but they didn’t speak again. They sensed that she was deep in thought and decided not to interrupt. It was something Estrid appreciated about Ru -- they were never afraid of silence.

Estrid closed her eyes, exhaled through her nose, and then opened her mouth to speak. Unfortunately, before she could, a voice cut her off.

“Come on, lovebirds!” crowed a particularly obnoxious Hufflepuff boy. “Don’t want to be left behind, do you?”

Both Ru and Estrid shot the boy a very dirty glare.

“We’re not lovebirds, Wilfred,” Estrid shot back dully.

She sighed.

“...What is it you like to say about silence being better than stuffing the space with useless words?” she asked Ru, her voice touched with dry amusement.

Ru avoided her eyes, frowning deeply again. “...Hn.”

The amusement slid off of Estrid’s face. No snarky response again?

“Ru?” she asked.

“What?” said Ru.

“Are you...” Estrid bit her lip, “...is there something on your mind?”

Ru gave a loud bluster through their nose and mouth. “I would damn well hope so -- I don’t know how so many people go around with nothing in their heads...”

Estrid relaxed noticeably despite herself.

“Well, now you’re sounding more like yourself, at least,” she said with another light sigh and a small smile. She rose from the bench at last. “Come on then...suppose we’d better catch up with Galen...”

She’d barely gotten all the way to her feet when she suddenly felt a light tap to her cheek.

Estrid turned her head. Ru had brought a hand up beside her face, their long pointer finger and thumb only touching her skin just enough to prompt her to look at them. They’d also bent down enough that the collar of their jacket gaped slightly, showing off the Adam’s apple and the top of the pale chest under their silver chain, and that Estrid’s and their faces were only a few inches apart.

“Estrid...”

Ru swallowed. Something seemed to harden in their electric blue eyes, and they plowed on bluntly.

“...Look -- I’m attracted to you, okay?”

Estrid gave a light start, but Ru pressed on, undeterred.

“I know it’s stupid, but I like you. I don’t need you to act any differently, and I’m not going to prance about like a show horse trying to make you like me too. If you don’t like me as I am, I’m not going to change myself so you do. The only reason I’m telling you is…”

They glanced away uncomfortably.

“...Well, for once, everyone else isn’t being stupid when they talk about me being interested in you – and I just thought you aughta know.”

They looked her full-on again.

“Now you do.”

Estrid was left speechless. Ru’s electric blue eyes were very intense, and more serious than she thought she’d ever seen them, as they removed their hands from Estrid’s shoulder and away from her face.

It was strange, for Ru’s face to be so serious. It made them look oddly grounded, steadfast...dedicated. Ru had never been particularly suave or romantic in their manner of speaking, but the bluntness in their tone only seemed to highlight how very truthful and sincere the sentiment behind their words was. It was...really quite sweet. It was like Ru had rested a warm hand over her heart, along with lightly touching her face. A hand that made her feel fuller and happier than she had in a really long time.

Estrid had already come to the thought that Ru wanted to stay as they were, as a human -- to keep enjoying little human pleasures like wearing earrings and taking pictures...but now she also knew for a fact that if Ru could...they would also stay. They wouldn’t just charge off into the sunset and disappear. They might even, if she asked, not hate the idea of living like a human -- of having a job and a home like a human, of dealing with everyday human problems...of settling down and laying down roots and...staying.

If she asked...Ru might stay.

“Ru...”

Estrid reached out and took hold of the red sleeve of their jacket, preventing them from completely straightening up.

“...Come home with me.”

Ru stiffened. “What?”

“After graduation,” Estrid clarified. Her words came out at a bit of a rush, despite her best efforts. “You can stay with my grandfather and me in Denmark. I’m sure Grandfather won’t mind. You could look into a job with the Daily Prophet -- they could use someone who knows what they’re doing with photography. And if you’re sending stuff in through Owl Post, no one’ll notice if you don’t look human...I can always answer the door, if someone comes to call and you’re not yourself...”

Ru stared down at her, not quite comprehending what they were hearing. Estrid could feel her face flushing, but she kept a brave face on all the same.

“...You don’t have to stay here all alone, Ru,” she said under her breath so no one else could hear. “I’ll help you protect your secret. And even if everyone does find out what you really are...I’ll stand by you.”

Ru seemed stunned. Their electric blue eyes ran over Estrid’s face, dipping in and out of her eyes and into the corners of her lips. They didn’t say anything for a long moment, but Estrid could sense they were searching her face for any flicker of doubt. When they didn’t find any, their face seemed to lose the rest of its color.

They bit their lip, looking hesitant in a way Estrid had never seen before.

“...You want me to follow you?” they asked very lowly. “To live with you?”

Estrid’s cheeks were burning, but she nodded all the same.

“Yes,” she said.

And as soon as she said the word, she realized how deeply and sincerely she meant it.

She wanted Ru to follow her. She...wanted them to stay with her.

Ru’s expression seemed to clear. Their face broke into a broad, beautiful smile, full of both a childish kind of delight and quiet, soothing relief. They bowed their head toward Estrid, their lightning-like eyes sparkling just like the silver chain on their neck.

“...Well, then...”

Ru brought a hand up to tuck some hair behind Estrid’s ear, trailing their long fingers through it so that it lay flat.

“...Guess you’ll be my ‘keeper’ a bit longer then...won’t you?”

Estrid felt her own lips curling up in a smile too. “...Guess so.”

“You’d better keep a tight hold of me,” Ru said with a mischievous smile. “Kelpies don’t tame easily.”

“Oh yes, I’m very well aware,” Estrid said coolly. “Your lack of table manners alone make that obvious.”

“Humans have hands, we may as well use them.”

Once Estrid’s hair was smooth enough for Ru’s liking, the kelpie’s smile grew a bit more wry as they extended their arm to her in a mockingly over-the-top formal gesture.

“Lead and I’ll follow, madam,” they said dryly.

Biting back a laugh, Estrid brought her arm down onto Ru’s and started to walk with them toward the door.

“Oh...and Ru?”

“Yeah?”

Estrid moved up onto the tips of her toes as she walked and just barely managed to graze their chin with her lips.

“I like you too,” she said softly.

Ru looked down at her, startled. They examined her face again, searching it for any hint of insincerity or teasing, but Estrid merely smiled.

“It is weird,” she admitted, “considering everything we’ve gone through -- where we started...”

“...What I really am,” Ru pointed out lowly, cocking an eyebrow.

Estrid nodded. “But, well...I guess both of us were always a little weird, to begin with.”

Very slowly, Ru’s lips spread into another beautiful smile, purer and happier than ever. They moved into Estrid, leaning down enough to rest their head down on her shoulder and gently nuzzle the crook of her neck.

“More than a little,” they whispered into her skin.

With a light pink flush to her cheeks, Estrid secured her hold on Ru’s arm, and Ru straightened up again as she led them out.

The pair left the pub together, perfectly unaware of how many people around them were exchanging Galleons.

Turns out that Ru and Estrid had been the subject of quite a few bets around both Hogwarts and Hogmeade village.

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #my art #ru ollivander #estrid soelberg #galen stagg #siobhan llewelyn #my writing #yesssss our two gender-role-defying victorians!!#when I found out estrid likes wearing pants I knew I just had to draw her in them at some point #particularly since ru just doesn't give AF about staying inside the gender binary #they may present male but if they like something out of comfort or because it's pretty then they will wear it #hence why collared shirts are a no but flared coats earrings and long hair are a yes #hope I did estrid justice lovely!! xoxo

16 notes · View notes

the-gay-prometheus · 4 years ago

Text

Frankenstein AU Segment - “Home Again”

Ok fun fact: I’ve been working on a segment for about two weeks now.

Second fun fact: This is not that segment, but instead something I wrote entirely spur of the moment in the timespan of about 1 hour total.

It’s extremely self indulgent, I’ll be honest. From writing an entire big useless paragraph of Henry horseback riding because I’ve been missing horseback riding and horse related things all day, to the entire actual context of this segment being... well... being what I wish I could have through my transition. If anybody wants to be my Henry and support me unconditionally as I go through my own transition that would be greatly appreciated jhebdjdfhbvjhdvbfv /hj

Anyways- So! This is something totally different than all of the other ones I’ve written so far, because it takes place quite a bit before Victor even goes to Ingolstadt - in fact, it takes place before he even chooses the name Victor! That means you’ll see a character named “Em” (who Henry recognizes as “Emily” at first) - and that character is young Victor!

TW: Mention of blood - absolutely harmless in context, but it is mentioned so it’s worth a tw. Otherwise this is a very generally wholesome segment (other than a small argument between Henry and his dad).

As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are greatly appreciated!

“Henry! It’s nearly time for supper!”

“I’ll be right in, father!” From a leisurely walk through the green pastures of his home, Henry urged his red roan mare into one final canter across the field. In the golden light of the slowly setting sun, her mane, tail, and the feathering of her hooves flashed like threads of shimmering copper as Henry’s own vibrant auburn hair flew behind him whipping like fire in the breeze. His hazel eyes set their sights on the stables beyond, and he tapped his heels once more against the mare’s sides, pushing her into a swift gallop. Enthralled by the rush of the wind against his freckled skin, Henry let go of the reins and extended his arms outward. He felt the air pass through his fingers and he imagined instead that they were the feathers of great wings catching the current and soaring through the sky. Though it lasted only a moment, his heart pounded with joy within his chest, still so full of adrenaline even as they approached the gate that led out from the pasture and to the stable. He dropped his hands back to the reins, pulling back gently until his mount slowed her pace back to a walk. Both human and horse panted, the mare chewing idly on her bit as Henry hopped out of the saddle and pulled the reins over her head. He led her into the stable, humming a happy tune to himself with a skip in his step. Grabbing her halter from its hook, he took her into her stall, unbuckling and removing her bridle before replacing it with the halter and tying her to the rope that hung from the wall inside. She stood quietly, each breath sending up gentle plumes of dust that glittered in the light which filtered through the stall window.

After removing her saddle, he began brushing her patchy roaned coat. Ordinarily she was a steady, quiet mare, but Henry noticed that she kept twisting her ears toward the stall which was used for hay storage. Every now and then she would lift her head and flare her nostrils, turning toward the direction her ears were trained upon. “Do you hear something over there, girl?” Henry asked softly, watching her inquisitively. Nearly as soon as he said it, there was a soft thud from that same location, which caused him to jump and the mare to utter a low nicker. Henry pat her neck gently and cautiously stepped out of the stall, staring down the hall toward the source of the sound. “Hello?” There was a rustle within the hay, then another soft thud - followed by a quiet voice that Henry couldn’t make out what it was saying. Instinctively he grabbed a pitchfork that leaned up against the wall, pointing it toward the stall defensively. “Who’s there?” Then came a cough, more rustling of hay, and then - a small, thin figure with short, messy hair stumbled out into the hallway, promptly tripping over their own feet and falling to the ground. Henry gave the person an odd look and turned the pitchfork upright, resting on it like a walking stick. “Can I… help you?” he asked curiously, confused as to why some stranger was hiding in the hay. The stranger struggled to push themself up, and in the dim light Henry’s eyes widened as he beheld the stranger was covered in dirt and… blood? As they lifted their face, Henry suddenly dropped the pitchfork to the ground in shock. “Emily?! Is that- is it really you?” he breathed, rushing to the figure and kneeling down. Surely enough, the stranger smiled up at him with kind brown eyes.

“Oh hi, Henry,” they managed to croak - before promptly collapsing unconscious.

When Em’s eyes fluttered back open, the first thing he saw was Henry standing over him, a look of worry on his face as he gently rubbed at his dirty skin with a damp towel. He gave the ginger haired boy an odd look. “Uh… Henry?”

“Good lord thank goodness you’re awake!” Henry exclaimed. Em blinked at him.

“What… what are you doing?”

“Hold still - I’m trying to figure out where all this blood came from!” Em couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

“Henry. Henry-” He reached out and gently grabbed his arm. “It’s not my blood.” Henry stared, then gave him a curious look, and slowly set the cloth down.

“Oh thank goodness,” he breathed with relief. There was a pause, then his curious expression returned to one of concern. “Whose blood is it?”

“Cadaver,” Em replied simply, turning away and coughing into his shoulder. “It’s a long story.” Henry stared a moment longer, then smiled.

“Well I can’t wait to hear it.” Em smiled in return, but his smile quickly faded when a muffled voice called from somewhere outside. Henry glanced up. “I’ll- I’ll be right back. Father wants me in for supper.” Em nodded. “Don’t go anywhere!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Clerval.”

Henry sat anxiously at the table, fidgeting with the silverware and wishing he could be back in the stable with Emily. Secretly stuffed into his pocket were a few pieces of bread he intended to smuggle to his dear friend, while the food on his own plate went relatively untouched. His father sat at the head of the table, his mother directly across from him, and as usual there was awkward silence between them. “So. Henry,” his father began, breaking the silence. Henry sank in his chair, wishing he wasn’t being spoken to at the moment. “Have you decided?” Henry glanced up to him.

“Decided? Decided on what?”

“Is that not what you were doing out there? You said that you would be able to think of which trade you want to pursue better while on horseback.” Henry sheepishly looked away.

“Oh. Right. I… yes. I was thinking about it,” he answered at a length. “Definitely was thinking about that.”

“And?” He could feel his father’s gaze on him, and he shrunk down further in his chair.

“And… I still haven’t figured it out yet?” His father sighed heavily, his fork clattering onto his plate as he pressed his head into his palms.

“Henry, you’re a young man now. You need to start taking your future seriously!” he exclaimed, exasperated.

“I’ve got time! Besides, I have an idea of what I want to do but-”

“Please don’t say ‘travel the world and write stories,’” His father cut him off, mentioning his goals mockingly. Henry frowned.

“That is exactly what I want to do. Yes.”

“Traveling and story writing don’t pay, Henry!”

“Yes they do!”

“Not enough they don’t! We have talked about this before Henry - either you take up the family business or you take up a different trade. There is no other option!”

“I have plenty of options! Just let me go to university!”

“Absolutely not, Henry.” Henry groaned, putting his forehead on the table.

“Why can’t you just let me do what I know I’m meant to do?” he grumbled.

“Because this family has a reputation to keep, and you are the only one to keep it!” his father exclaimed. Henry glanced up at his mother, but she simply stayed silent. He groaned louder and looked back at his father.

“Permission to be excused?” he muttered.

“Yes but-”

“Perfect. Thank you. I’ll be back later.” With that, Henry stood and hurried out of the dining room, leaving his father to shout something after him - though his mind was too preoccupied to hear what it was he said.

“Emily?” Henry called out in a quiet whisper as he reentered the stable, lit lamp in hand. He glanced around, waiting for a response, then called out again. “Emily?!” When no response came, he ran to the hay stall to find his friend still lying on the hay, still as stone with his eyes closed. Henry stared at him a moment longer. “...Emily?” Still no response. In the dark, he couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest, and he grew frightened. He reached out, grabbing his arm and shaking it. “Emily!”

“Good god Clerval!” Em suddenly exclaimed with a gasp, jumping awake. Henry let out a sigh of relief as he nearly fell back.

“Oh thank goodness you’re ok.”

“Of course I’m ok, Henry! I just spent months walking here from Paris on foot, I’m exhausted,” Em explained. Henry’s eyes widened.

“You got all the way to Paris?” Em thought for a moment, then smiled.

“I did.”

“What was it like?!” Henry exclaimed, his expression brightening. For a moment, Em was lost for words. He had forgotten how much he missed Henry, how much he missed the way his hazel eyes would light up and sparkle at the mention of anything that peaked his interest, how strands of his ginger hair would fall in wavy tangles over his freckled cheeks… he blinked the thoughts away, then grinned.

“It was horrible, disgusting, and absolutely wonderful. I hated it and loved it all at the same time.” Henry chuckled.

“Sounds like Paris to me.” He slowly sat down, turning and resting his back against the hay bales Em lay upon. “So what brought you back? Did things… not work out there?” Em shrugged.

“Things were ok for the most part. It was a rough life, but it was a lot of fun. I made friends, learned a lot about… well about a lot of things, I suppose. Never had a true home, but I felt home enough out there on the streets with the friends I had.” Henry felt a sudden pain in his chest at the sound of that, and he glanced down at the floor. “We got into some trouble though. ...More like I got into some trouble and unfortunately somebody else got partially blamed for it. And then, I guess, I realized I needed to come home.” He looked down at Henry. “Or at least to as much as a home as I’ve got.” Henry turned his gaze up to him and smiled slightly.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here safe now.” Em nodded.

“Me too.” There was silence between them, Em tapping his fingers idly on the hay beneath him as he thought about his next words carefully. “But that’s… not the only reason I came back.” Henry turned his eyes back ahead.

“Oh?”

“Yes. See- there’s something I discovered-”

“Some scientific marvel?” Henry teased, grinning. Em smirked.

“Well yes, but no.” He hesitated, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s… I’m… I discovered something about myself.” More silence. “Henry I- … Henry I’m actually…” Em sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled harshly. “I discovered that I’m… a man.” Henry blinked, then looked up at him.

“Is that it?” Em shot his gaze down to him.

“What do you mean ‘is that it?’” Henry shrugged. “You’re not… you’re not upset?”

“Why would I be upset?”

“...I don’t know, most people seem to think it’s crazy- or weird or- unnatural- but it’s not! It’s-”

“Emily. You don’t need to justify yourself to me.” Em froze, staring down at him as he gazed back with a smile. “If you say that’s who you are, then it is who you are. Who am I to say otherwise? Who is anyone to say otherwise? You know yourself better than anyone else.” Henry’s smile suddenly faded as he realized there were tears dripping from Em’s eyes. “I- Was I supposed to be upset?” Em sniffled and let out an awkward laugh.

“No- no I’m just-” He paused, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I don’t know what I was expecting but… I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to be just so accepting.” Henry looked up at him with a sympathetic gaze.

“I’ll try not to be too offended by that,” he mused sarcastically. Em giggled and waved his hand dismissively.

“You know what I meant.” Henry nodded. “My point is… thank you. I couldn’t possibly ask for a better friend than you, Henry.”

“I do have one question, though.”

“Hm?” Em looked down at him, suddenly feeling himself fill with anxiety.

“What does this change? I mean… is there anything that’s different about you now?” Em breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well… for one thing, I’ve been going by just Em for a few years now.” Henry nodded, taking a mental note of that. “But I’m still trying to think of a better name for myself. Maybe… you could help me with that at some point?” Henry grinned.

“I’d be honored!”

“Excellent.” With great effort, Em started to sit upright, struggling to put his weight on his shaking arms. “There is… something else, though. Another reason why I came here.”

“Go on,” Henry encouraged, standing and hopping up onto the hay bale to give Em some support to sit upright. Em took a deep breath.

“This is going to sound crazy,” he began. “I need to… perform surgery.” He paused, and turned to look at Henry, who was staring at him blankly. “On myself.”

“Okay! When do we-” Henry began, until what Em had just said fully registered in his brain. “Wait, what?” Em grinned sheepishly.

“I need to perform surgery on myself,” he repeated, more confidently this time. Henry blinked.

“...That sounds incredibly dangerous. Is there something wrong with you? Why can’t you, I don’t know, get a real doctor to help you?” Em frowned.

“Well it’s nothing that’s wrong with me- it’s just…” He sighed. “I’m… I’ve grown up, I guess. And even though I never really felt weird in my body before, things started changing and suddenly it just… didn’t quite feel right anymore, if that makes any sense. Apparently it’s a common symptom of being… well… whatever I am. See- I had this friend, his name was René and he was… you know, the same as me. He used to tell me all the time how he wished there was a way to just get rid of the parts of himself that didn’t feel right, and- well you know me, Henry, when somebody says they wish something was possible, I have to find a way to make it possible.” Henry listened carefully, and nodded with a grin.

“That’s for sure.”

“Well… that’s when I decided I would try to figure it out - that way I could make it happen for him, and maybe even train him so he could do the same for me! Henry, we could’ve changed the world for countless others like us!” Henry blinked.

“...So why didn’t you?” Em suddenly went quiet, then exhaled softly.

“I knew it would take an awful lot of practice, and no doctor would ever reasonably let me apprentice under them for such an undertaking so… I may or may not have taken matters into my own hands.” Henry stared blankly. “Hence… cadavers. René helped me steal the tools I needed and aided me with breaking into the morgue every night so I could practice. All was going well, but it turns out people don’t seem to be overly keen on evidence being tampered with or bodies being ‘desecrated.’ So one night just as I finally got every part of my methods down correctly, we got caught. We both ran, but we had to split up and… I know René slipped but… I was too busy with my own pursuers to turn back for him.” He stared off into the distance, a suddenly sorrowful expression in his eyes. “I hope he’s ok… but it was then that I realized it would be unsafe for me to stay, and the only other person I could think of who could help me with such an undertaking as this… was you.” Henry’s eyes widened.

“Em I hardly think I’m qualified-”

“You don’t have to be! I can teach you. I’ll do most of the work, and you just have to do what I tell you, and everything should work out just fine.” Henry crossed his arms with a sigh. He thought it through, and although he wanted so badly to say no, the look of determination on Em’s face convinced him well enough that this was something his dear friend so desperately needed.

“As long as you think we can pull it off, you know I’ll always be here to help,” he reassured him with a smile. Em grinned, suddenly lurching forward and embracing him in as tight a hug as he could muster. Henry sat stunned, his cheeks suddenly burning as he felt himself blush, but he nervously chuckled and wrapped his arms around Em in return, not realizing that Em’s own pale cheeks were turning bright pink, until both of them awkwardly released each other and sat there turned away from one another. “Well… I suppose I should be off to bed,” Henry muttered, still with a sheepish smile on his face. Em flopped back down onto the hay, resting his hands behind his head. “We can talk more in the morning and- oh!” Henry pulled out the bread he had smuggled from his pockets, and held it out to Em, who gladly snatched it and immediately began shoving it unceremoniously into his mouth. “Figured you were hungry so… heh. Anyways… I’ll see about bringing you breakfast tomorrow too, just like old times.” Em grinned up at him.

“Jus’ ‘ike o’ ‘imes,” he answered, mouth still full with bread. Henry hopped down from the hay bales, taking his lantern once again.

“I’m glad you came back, Em,” he mentioned, standing just outside the stall door. Em turned and glanced back at him, smiling brightly.

“I’m glad to be back. I missed you, Henry. Nothing is ever the same without you, you know.”

“Same to you, Em.” With that, Henry strode out and quietly closed the door behind him. As he started back toward the house, he paused, turning back toward the stable with a bittersweet gaze and a flutter in his chest. You have no idea just how much I missed you, he thought. But you’re here now, and that’s- that’s good enough for me. Filled with a sudden surge of energy, he jumped into the air with an exclamation of joy and ran back to the house, twirling and prancing as he ran until he was dizzy from the thrill. He paused at the door, panting, looking back toward the stable with a massive grin and a glimmer in his eyes. “Oh Em,” he breathed out loud, chest heaving as he caught his breath, “I can’t wait to see the person you become.”

#frankenstein au #tw blood mention #ask to tag #lmao i considered proof reading this but it's 11:26 PM and i'm exhausted so. hopefully there's no huge errors in it fbvdvhbjvhdbvjfhvbdfv #we'll see i guess!

21 notes · View notes