#'he doesn't reach past victor's chest'

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

1: PRIYA & JAMIE

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You love your best friend but you can't find the courage to tell him. It doesn't matter because things are perfect between you... until they aren't. Everything changes the day Bucky introduces you to his new girlfriend.

Word count: 3.1k

Warning: angsty feelings, jealousy, feelings of betrayal, Bucky... Barnes is a warning

Sticks and Stones was your favorite place. Not because of the amazing meals, or the roaring fireplace that made the winter evenings warmer, or even the stone oven that produced the most scrumptious pizzas. No, it was because once a month, you shared a meal with your best friend, James Buchanan Barnes. You jovially referred to it as date night, the one night you were guaranteed a time alone with your best pal.

Normally when you arrived, you'd find Bucky waiting patiently for you, having ordered his and your favorite drinks. But today, you'd been out in town, enjoying some time off from work and you'd arrived early. You were pleased that for once, you'd be able to return the favor.

"Darling!" Victor, your usual waiter greeted you. "You're here early! Beat Mr Bucky to the punch today! Want me to bring the usual?"

"Yes please, Victor! Thanks!"

You glanced around, making yourself comfortable as you waited for Bucky to arrive. Victor brought your drinks and you couldn't resist taking a sip of the fruity house wine that you always enjoyed. You savored the taste and tingly feeling of it slipping down your throat. There was an instant feel of comfort and familiarity in the setting and you smiled dreamily, lost in the moment.

The time you spent with Bucky was very special to you. When you weren't out risking your lives and watching each other's backs for S.H.I.E.L.D., the two of you tried to spend your free time together. Truth be told, you were harboring feelings of more than simple friendship for the super soldier. The bond you shared was tighter than any other relationship you'd had in the past. But you longed for more and during these ‘dates’ you could imagine that your feelings were reciprocated. It was a tap on your shoulder that brought you back to reality.

"Hey!" Bucky's smiling face popped into your visual field.

"Buck!" You smiled from ear to ear. It was always a comfort to see him. Jumping out of your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck in a hug. Bucky's strong arms wound their way around your waist and your chin snuggled into the nook between his shoulder and neck. As he squeezed you tightly, you noticed someone standing awkwardly behind him.

Gently, you pulled out of your best friend's embrace, smiling at the gorgeous stranger in tight fitting jeans and a perfectly tailored red halter neck blouse. You were slightly star struck by her beauty, she was in appearance, everything you wished you were.

"Hi," you smiled at her. Even though you were impressed by her appearance, something about her presence didn't sit right with you.

"Oh Cricket, this is Priya. Doll, this is Y/N, but we call her Cricket."

Did he just call her Doll? You frowned slightly. That was his nickname for you. The discomfort you had felt intensified.

"Hey, Cricket. It's nice to meet you." Priya offered her hand, which you shook, more as a reflex. "Jamie here has told me so much about you."

"Jamie?" You frowned again, looking at Bucky.

He scratched the back of his head bashfully, chuckling slightly at her pet name for him. "Priya!" Bucky admonished jokingly.

Breathlessly, you watched as he pulled out a chair for this woman to sit down. He was a perfect gentleman. He waved Victor over and grabbed a chair from the table adjacent to you and sat down. "Why’re you still standing?" he asked you.

Wordlessly, you lowered yourself back into your chair, reaching out to your glass of wine and taking a larger than necessary mouthful. This time though there was a searing burning in your chest that was probably nothing to do with the alcohol trickling down your esophagus. 

"So, how do you two know each other?" The words were coming out of your mouth but you had no idea who was controlling it. You also knew that you didn't want to hear the answer.

"Priya’s my girlfriend." Bucky beamed, looking at Priya. He never smiled like this at anyone other than you.

"Jamie and I met four months ago. Right here! I saw him sitting here on his own and I just couldn't let such a handsome man be lonely." Priya ran her fingers through Bucky's hair.

Your mind was reeling at the information that had just been dropped on you and your world felt like it was spinning. You felt a pang of jealousy and sadness as you listened to Priya gush about how she met Bucky. How much alcohol had you drunk? Your mouth felt dry but your eyes burned. Your ears were ringing and everyone suddenly seemed very far away. You tried to smile and act happy for them, but it was hard to hide your true feelings. You wondered how Bucky could have kept this a secret from you for four months. Was he ashamed of you? Did he not trust you? Did he not care about you?

"I… I don't understand. What do you mean you met here?" You stuttered.

"Remember that time you were forced to cancel on me, ‘cause of the last minute mission Steve dragged you on?"

"Yea-" you whispered in answer.

"It was that day." Bucky looked at you.

"So what? You just found an instant replacement?" The words slipped out of your mouth with a lot more spite than you'd intended.

"Of course not, Cricket." Bucky frowned, he wasn't sure what he had expected but this was not the reaction he had imagined from you. "You're my best friend."

"Yeah," you sighed.

Under the table, you found yourself gripping the sides of your chair so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. Maybe if you had been given time to emotionally prepare yourself for this introduction, you would have reacted more gracefully than you were doing at this very moment. But the shock of being face to face with Bucky’s girlfriend was so far down on your list of expectations, that you didn’t seem to have any control over your brain or your mouth.

"Aww, Jamie, I thought I was your best friend now," Priya smiled at Bucky, batting her eyelids at him. She slipped her arms around his beefy bicep and leaned in for a kiss.

To your surprise, Bucky laughed and leaned in, engaging in a slow and gag-worthy kiss. You wanted to run, to scream, to cry, you wanted someone to pinch you, to shake you awake from the nightmare you seemed to be stuck in. A dream, that’s what it was, just a bad dream. If you played along, you’d wake up in your bed having fallen asleep beside your best friend watching bad movies all night because he had a nightmare. You didn’t want to be rude or cause a scene either. You also didn’t want to lose Bucky, even if he had already chosen someone else. You loved him too much to let him go.

You plastered a smile across your face, deciding to stay, enduring the torture of watching them be happy together. "Congratulations, Bucky. It’s good that you’ve found someone special." The words sounded forced, at least they did in your mind. Emotionless. You meant what you said, it was good that Bucky had found someone. You just wished that someone was you. He deserved happiness, you just wanted to be the one to give it to him.

You had known all along that you wouldn’t be that person. Every time he had put his arms around you, every time he came to you for comfort after a nightmare, every time you shared a meal, every time those brilliant blue eyes gazed into yours, he had had the opportunity to take things one step further. And as much as you longed for it, that step never came.

Bucky gave you a scrutinizing stare for what felt like an eternity before accepting your words. "Thank you," he smiled, breaking your heart all over again.

"So, Cricket! I assume that's not really your name. How did it come about?"

Bucky laughed, recalling the memory. "Cricket had only been with the team for two months, but she was immediately everyone's conscience. It was almost kinda annoying."

You scowled.

"Come on, Cricket, don't be like that." Bucky smiled at you and it melted the scowl off your face. "Natasha used to call her Jiminy Cricket and it's just stuck."

"And how long have you and James known each other?" Priya asked you.

"It’s been two years," you smiled, the first genuine one since you had seen them together. "But we've been partners for 18 months."

You felt the need to emphasize your closeness with Bucky.

"Wow, James said the two of you were close." She turned to Bucky, directing her question at him. "How come you never mentioned us to her?

Bucky had the decency to look uncomfortable, his eyes flitting between you and Priya but never maintaining eye contact with either of you. Your immediate instinct was to help him out, to ease his discomfort. But the little person inside your brain that often sat on your shoulder with horns on its head asked you why he deserved it. Why had he lied to you for the past four months? What was he trying to hide from you? He was really putting your little crickets through their paces. 

"I just wasn’t ready to share you with anyone else," Bucky answered in his most charming manner.

Priya giggled and you closed your eyes in an effort to keep them from seeing your exasperated eye roll.

"We should order before they close the kitchen. It’s getting late. What do you want?" Bucky asked Priya.

It almost felt like you didn’t exist.

"Want to share a pizza?" she responded.

"Sounds great, Doll!" He smiled at her. "What do you want, Cricket?" 

"Umm, I-" You had no idea what you wanted. Pizza with Bucky was your go to. It had been a while since you’d sampled anything from the menu. "I need to look." You picked up the faux-leather bound booklet with meal options, grateful to be able to hide your face behind it. The last thing you wanted was for Priya or Bucky to see your quivering lip or tear filled eyes.

You only emerged when Victor approached, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Miss Y/L/N. Would you and Mr Bucky like your usual?"

"No Victor, could I have the cajun pasta please?"

Priya gave hers and Bucky’s orders to Victor who walked away promising only a short wait for your meals. A silence settled over the tablet as you contemplated how Priya took charge of their order. It had taken you a long time to get Bucky to understand that he had autonomy and was allowed to voice his opinions. You always did your best to give Bucky the time to process his decisions and articulate them. You worried that he would lose that. However, Priya used silence as an opportunity to ask you a few more questions.

"So, Cricket. How did you end up joining S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

You shrugged. "Just kinda happened. Sometimes life has a way of pushing you into something unexpected, you just have to make the most of it." You had no desire to share the most painful events in your life with a complete stranger. "And what do you do, Priya?"

"My job isn’t as exciting as yours, I’m afraid. I’m a surgeon."

"She is being modest," Bucky interjected proudly, "She is a kid’s surgeon."

You felt like you were being punched in the gut. You had gone to medical school before you’d joined S.H.I.E.L.D., but life had different plans for you and you’d ended up being recruited to S.H.I.E.L.D. soon after your internship. 

You plastered a smile across your face and delivered the socially acceptable response. "Wow, pediatrics. That’s hard work." 

"Worth it though, when you see the smiles on the kids' faces when they walk out of the hospital."

"I’m impressed that you find the time to date. I can barely find time for myself. Feels like too much hard work!" You forced a laugh from your lips.

"Well, being with James isn’t work at all. In fact, he gives me a reason to leave the hospital."

Bucky blushed. "Thanks, Doll."

Luckily you were spared further awkward conversation by the arrival of your dinner.

"Eat up kids, we’re closing up soon!" Victor boomed.

The rest of the meal was eaten in relative silence, Bucky and Priya exchanging some small talk as you poked and prodded at the food on your plate. Their honeymoon phase was sickening and all you wanted was to leave.

Closing time came around eventually, although not as soon as you would have liked.

"Darling, what's the matter? You didn't like pasta?" Victor came to clear your plates and usher you out of the establishment.

"It was really good, just a bit spicy." You blushed while telling the lie, your inner cricket screaming at you. 

"Next time we'll make sure you can eat it all then." Victor smiled at you kindly. 

You felt terrible, but you didn't want anyone to see how upset you really were, especially Bucky. Not that he would notice, he was too busy draping his jacket over Priya’s shoulders. It didn’t mean very much to you at that moment, but the second you stepped outside, you realized that your evening wasn’t going to get any better. Bucky’s bike was parked right outside and you understood what that meant.

"Cricket, we’ll see you back at the compound!" Bucky smiled, leading his girlfriend to the bike with his hand at her back. "Don’t want to get caught in the rain."

You nodded mutely, watching them speed away. When you had asked Nat to drop you off in town, it had been with the intention that you would catch a ride back with Bucky, as you always did. You were left standing on the curb in a sundress and a light jacket. It had been a warm day for late October, but as the sun had set, thunder clouds had rolled in and Thor’s distant cousins were making a ruckus in the distance and seemed to be heading in your direction. The notion that you could walk home was something you entertained for a total of two seconds, as your heel got stuck in a grate on the sidewalk. You sighed heavily as a couple of raindrops splashed on your shoulder.

Pulling out your phone, you tapped on the local transportation apps, but there were no cabs to be seen. Not that anyone would be willing to drive you out into the country at this time in the evening. There was only one choice left, you needed to call one of your friends to pick you up. Resigned to an awkward conversation, you scrolled through your phone for someone to contact.

Nat… no, she wasn’t around. Sam… no answer. Steve… the phone rang a couple of times, before a sleepy voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Steve, were you sleeping?" you asked, anxiously.

"No," came his dishonest answer.

"I’m sorry, go back to sleep." You hated imposing on people and knowing that you had woken Steve from what was probably much needed slumber, made you felt terrible.

"What’s wrong?"

"Nothing, it’s okay, Steve." What were you thinking? Why were you not asking for a lift?

"Cricket."

"Could you please pick me up from town?" you asked, in a small voice.

Steve sat up in bed, your voice drowned out by a loud crack of thunder. "Wait, aren’t you with Bucky?"

"No, Buck-" you weren’t sure how much Steve knew about Bucky’s girlfriend. "I’m not with Bucky. He’s busy."

"With Priya?"

So Steve knew. Naturally. Steve was Bucky’s family, of course he would tell him before he told you. A tear dropped down from your eye as you nodded. "Yeah," you whispered, realizing that Steve couldn’t actually see you.

"I’m sorry. Give me half an hour, I’m coming."

"Thanks, Steve."

You hung up the phone and looked around. The street was deserted and everything felt so much darker than before. The rain, which had been falling lightly, started coming down more heavily, seeping into your thin clothes and making you shiver. The tears that were now pouring down your face were practically indistinguishable from the raindrops. This felt like the perfect ending for how you felt about your day.

True to his word, Steve arrived in twenty eight minutes. And you sunk into the passenger seat of his car looking like a bedraggled rat. He didn’t ask you any more questions, for which you were grateful. Wordlessly, he slipped off his hoodie and offered it to you. You took it, pulling the soft material over your head, thankful for the warmth it provided. The hood covered your eyes and you did nothing to move the wet strands of hair that were plastered across your face. It took all your self control to not start sobbing in the car with Steve. Luckily for you, Steve turned up the seat warmer on your seat and focused solely on the road as he started the journey back to the compound.

When he eventually pulled into the garage, Steve yanked up the parking brake, turned off the ignition and jumped out before you had the chance to unfasten your seat belt. He opened the door for you and you got out reluctantly. A feeling of dread washed over you. What if Bucky and Priya saw you like this? They were already here, you had immediately spotted Bucky's bike in the corner. You knew he had brought Priya back to the compound because Bucky hadn’t bothered to store his spare helmet, and he would have secured it if he had ridden home alone. A horrifying image of them having sex invaded your mind for a moment, but Steve’s voice distracted you.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your room." Steve offered you a hand to help you out of the car.

"I'm sorry for making you come out to get me. I should have taken my car. I just thought-"

"It's okay. Let's go." Steve said kindly, wrapping his arm around you, offering his support and warmth. He stopped right outside your bedroom door. "Do you need anything?" he asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Thank you," you muttered in his ear.

Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Good night."

Neither of you noticed Bucky returning from the kitchen with two glasses in his hands, watching you and Steve from the shadows.

MASTERLIST > Next chapter

[sheeple]

Heirs of Hogwarts | Part 4

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): It's the (badly written) smut chapter (is it obvious that I don't know how kissing works?) / Weee Woo mature smut hour is here!!! / semi-exhibitionistic (office fucking while the door is locked?) / The oral fixation is back / dunno if I missed smth. A/n: The long-awaited final part of the series. And I swear to GOD if the tags don't work I'm going to screeaaAAAMMM [Masterlist] [HoH masterlist]

When Mattheo opens his eyes, a ray of sunshine peaks through the curtains and it falls over your sleeping face. In your sleep, you have tucked yourself closer to his body.

Mattheo can't help himself but smile. He rests his head on his fist while he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. Oh, how peaceful you look — how at ease with him beside you.

At his touch, you scrunch your face and turn away, nuzzling into his chest. You grumble something and he laughs.

"Good morning, Sunshine."

Groaning, you reach for the covers and pull them up to hide yourself from the light. "What time is it?"

Looking over his shoulder towards the small clock on the bedside table. "Half past eight."

Another groan comes from you and you push the covers just down so your face is peaking out with a pout. "Way too damn early..."

At that moment your door gets kicked open and the twins storm in. "Get up! Mom made breakfast and she has given you ten minutes to get dressed.

As Danny drags you out of your bed and into your bathroom, Victor gives Mattheo a stern glare. "You listen to me, Riddle. If you hurt but one hair on our sister's head you're a dead man! Understood?!"

Mattheo nods dazed, not jet have been really woken up before the invasion.

With one last curt nod, Victor turns around and marches out of your room. Not before saying, "If I were you I would get dressed. Mom doesn't like tardiness."

The way one-half of your brothers send you sly looks while the other half glares daggers at Mattheo as the two of you join your family at the breakfast table makes you want to be swallowed up whole by the ground.

"Slept well?", muses Felix as he peels a tangerine and gives his wife the segments.

Pursing your lips, you wait until both your parents aren't looking before flipping him off. He returns the gesture, only to get whacked by his wife — who in turn winks at you.

As Mattheo tilts his head towards you and as he parts his lips to say something, Victor calls out, "Hey! No canoodling at the breakfast table! Felix and Jean were bad enough, we don't need to experience you two being disgusting too."

"Hey!", both you and Felix call out, offended. Felix because he and his wife were called disgusting, and you because of the accusation of canoodling while you were literally doing nothing.

As you and your siblings bicker — because let's be fair, Felix needs to pull Herbert and Danny into the argument — Mattheo looks around the table with a fond smile.

It's nice to see how your family is. Even while you bicker and pester each other, he can see you hold so much love for each and every one of your brothers. And they do for you. And now he can see certain traits that you do that come from your parents or that all the Hufflepuff siblings do.

It's nice. It makes him jealous deep down.

When you notice Mattheo's faraway look on his face, you reach under the table to hold his hand. You give him a squeeze and in return, you get a smile. A genuine one luckily.

The two stay like that until it's finally time to go. After all, you have so much homework to do.

Your mom hugs you with tears in her eyes, having always found it difficult to let her babies go. She also gave Mattheo a tight hug and made him promise to come back another time. Maybe for the summer holiday, he can join you and your family at your vacation home — the idea was protested with grumbles from most of your brothers.

Your father pinches your cheeks before clapping Mattheo on his back and shaking his hand. "It was nice meeting you, Mattheo. Take good care if my daughter, will you?"

"I wouldn't dare otherwise", he smiles while reaching for your hand.

Waving goodbye, the two of you walk back to the portkey. And with a final deep breath, you touch the small cup and get sucked in a portal.

With a slight stumble, the floor changes from grass to the creaking floorboards of Sprout's office. You manage to catch yourself by the desk.

Having let go of your hand, Mattheo takes out his wand while he walks towards the door. He peaks his head out and looks around the corridor. Once he closes the door, he casts a locking and silencing charm upon it.

"What are you doing?", you ask laughing as he slowly turns around.

Mattheo says nothing but strides towards you. Taking your face in his hands, your breath hitches as his thumb rubs circles over your cheeks. Your eyes flicker over his face as you recognise the look in his eyes. It's the same as last night.

"Matt", you whisper, pressing your forehead against his.

He silences a groan by biting his bottom lip, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Tell me now if you don't want this. Tell me and I will stop. But once... I can't stop- won't stop. You fill my every thought, awake or at night."

You trail one hand up his body and place it on his shoulder, moulding your body against his as he presses you against the desk, his own hands simultaneously travelling down your body. He grabs the backs of your thighs and hoists you up the desk.

A surprised yelp escapes your lips and Mattheo seizes the opportunity to crash his lips against yours. His eyes close shut as he laces his fingers into your hair, holding your head in place to deepen the kiss.

You moan as you grind against him. Mattheo's all-consuming, all over. You feel and smell nothing else than him. One of his hands is in your hair while the other travels down your side towards your knee. How he grabs the flesh of your thigh to pull you even closer ─ if that is even possible.

Wrapping your arms around him, you throw your head back as his lips travel from the corner of your mouth towards your neck. He peppers open-mouthed kisses, running his tongue over your skin and sucking softly. You bite your bottom lips so as not to sound too desperate.

While his lips assault your neck, Mattheo's hand has travelled from your knee up your thigh to underneath your skirl and his middle finger toys with the elastic of your underwear.

Your body moves like it has a mind of its own and your legs open further to give him room to slip his hand beneath the fabric.

As he explores and rubs slow circles on your clit, he groans loudly. "Gods", he breathes out, his forehead resting against your shoulder and his eyes trained on the movements of his fingers hidden under the fabric of your panties.

"Matt... please", you beg, squirming at the teasing touch.

As if your plea snaps him out of a daze, he rips his hand away from your core ─ earning a desperate whine from you ─ and he pushes your underwear down your legs, stuffing it in his back pocket.

He pulls your hips to the edge of the table while he drops to his knees. Looking up at you through his lashes, asking your permission to continue.

"Mattheo I swear if you don't soon- OH!" You moan loudly as he licks a stripe up your pussy. Your hands shoot to his curls and you pull on them as he continues his ministrations, pulling moan after moan from you.

His lips wrap around your clit and you swear that you see stars. A finger prods at your entrance, slipping in easily with how wet you are. Soon, a second finger gets added and you can't help yourself. "I could eat you for lunch", he groans.

"Please Mattheo... please!"

With one last kiss, he pulls away and looks up at you, his mouth and chin glistening. "What is it, baby?" He leans his head against your thigh while his thumb rubs lazy circles around your clit.

You groan and whine, writhing under his heavy gaze and stimulation. "I... please- do something. I feel so..."

He pouts, speeding up his fingers. "Do something? Okay." He rips his fingers away and you feel like you could die.

"Not that!", you hiss, glaring at him.

Mattheo chuckles and rises from his kneeled position. "You're oh so cute when frustrated, love." He grabs your cheeks with one hand and pushes his soaked fingers into your mouth.

The taste of your own arousal dances on your tongue and you moan, closing your eyes and sucking on his digits. Mattheo can't help but watch you with fascination as you hold his gaze.

You grab his wrist and pull his fingers away with one last kiss. "Fuck me, Mattheo Riddle. Fuck me so good that I forget that our relationship used to be fake." You use his own words, which earns you a growl.

Mattheo grabs your hips and turns you around so that your ass is up in the air and your chest laying on the desk. He pushes the hem of your skirt up so you're fully exposed. A groan escapes him while Mattheo grabs two hands full of your asscheeks and pulls them to the side.

One hand leaves your skin and you hear the metallic sound of a belt buckle before a zipper. You look over your shoulder and see that he has pushed his pants just down enough to free himself. He strokes his length a couple of times before lining up with your entrance.

With one fluid trust, he's fully inside you. You grip the edge of the desk and a loud moan rolls from your lips. You're so full. So filled to the brim.

Mattheo swears he's in heaven. Your pussy is pure ecstasy. "So... tight", he says with a clenched jaw, trying his best not to immediately spill inside of you.

Rolling your hips against his, you look over your shoulder with your bottom lip between your teeth. Mattheo has his eyes closed and his head thrown back. The grip on your hip is bordering on bruising but it feels so good.

You can't help the moans coming out of your mouth when he bottoms out before pulling out of you completely and plunging back in. It shocks your entire body and Sprout's desk he has you folded over.

A hand travels down and you roll lazy circles over your clit for extra stimulation, his own hand engulfs yours and moves in sync with you.

It makes your body buzz and you feel the end coming closer and closer. Squirming underneath him, stars flood your vision and soon you feel yourself teetering over the edge.

Mattheo, feeling your pussy convulse around him, pulls you up and presses you against his chest. He captures your lips in a fiery kiss and helps you ride out your orgasm.

"Shit", he curses under his breath, the squelching sound of your cum sending shivers down his spine. "I don't know how much longer I can hold it."

"Cum in me", you moan, arching your back.

You don't have to say that a second time because Mattheo swears he's in heaven and cums almost immediately with a loud grunt, his head thrown back. You moan with him and he holds the both of you still.

The two of you stay like that until he has gone soft and you are starting to cramp. As he pulls out, you feel a dollop of his cum run down your leg. Mattheo drops to his knees and licks it up.

"No", you squirm, feeling so overstimulated that even the thought of his tongue touching you makes your pussy twitch.

He helps you up on the desk and cleans you up with a towel he conjured. "How are you feeling?"

"Good", you smile, "Tired. Spend."

Mattheo returns your smile as he pulls you closer for a kiss. Once he has enough, he presses his forehead against yours. "Come to my game tomorrow."

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. "And do what? Watch my house beat yours?", you tease.

"You could sit there all prettily in my jersey while watching me beat up your ex."

A laugh escapes you. "That way to original deal wasn't it? You distract my parents while I distract Malcolm. All so Slytherin can win the house cup."

Mattheo smirks. "You know it, baby." He takes your face and traces your lips with his thumb.

"And after that?" You lean into his touch.

"After that, I am going to fuck you silly in the locker room showers and make you moan my name so loud everybody knows you're mine."

And he did just that. With his knuckles still bloody from punching Malcolm in the face — nearly earning a suspension when he almost didn't stop — he holds your hands in a tight grip as he ploughs roughly into your cunt as the water from the shower makes his sweater cling to your skin.

And you bet the school did know your two definitely were an item after that.

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[stargazer-sims]

I wrote a thing and It took me way longer than it should have...

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

Full Circle

Yuri is almost asleep when he hears the front door being slammed shut. The sound startles him enough to pull him halfway back from the edge of consciousness, but not enough to compel him to get up. He's far too settled to move unless it's absolutely necessary.

Beside him, Victor is completely asleep and snoring softly. That's another reason Yuri doesn't want to move.

It'd taken a lot of effort to convince Victor the sofa wasn't the best place for him to rest. He's sick with some sort of respiratory virus that's kept him home from work for the past couple of days, and although he has been sleeping in his bed at night, during the day he alternates between the living room couch and the armchair in Yuri's home office.

Victor may be an excellent nurse, but he's an absolutely terrible patient, and at one point it seemed to Yuri as if no amount of coaxing and cajoling would persuade him that he really should be in bed for at least part of the day. Evidently, he'd rather follow Yuri around the house like a sad puppy, or huddle under his blanket on the sofa and whine about how he’d probably die soon from dehydration or from his headache and fever, or from the ache in all his muscles.

"Wouldn't you rather pass away in the comfort of your bed?" Yuri said, trying not to let his exasperation show.

Apparently, Victor found that hilarious, and perhaps not unexpectedly his laughter devolved into a coughing fit so severe that he was gasping for air by the time it resolved and his face was wet with tears.

"Yeah," he whispered, after several seconds. "Maybe I would rather die in bed."

"Okay. Let's just tidy you up a bit first, though. No one likes a messy ending.”

Victor's eyes said he wanted to laugh again, but his body language told a different story. He placed one palm on the center of his chest and massaged slowly as if that might help ease what Yuri assumed was pain and tightness. Yuri felt sorry for him.

"I'm glad you're here to make sure I look nice and neat," Victor said.

"It's not about neatness. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Now, let's clean your face, all right?"

Victor nodded his acquiescence. He meekly allowed Yuri to pat the tears from his cheeks with a tissue and then to hold several more under his nostrils while encouraging him to blow his nose.

Yuri hadn't really understood the English phrase 'man cold' until he'd experienced one of Victor's for the first time. Back when their relationship was new, he'd panicked because he thought Victor's illness was just as serious as Victor was making it out to be. He'd rung up the emergency clinic and everything, whereupon the female nurse practitioner who took his call had laughed at him and told him to give Victor acetaminophen and herbal tea and plenty of attention.

Solid advice, he acknowledges now. Naturally, hindsight is the clearest form of vision. A little more than twenty years after that first scary situation, he's a veteran of his husband's man colds and knows exactly how to care for him on the occasions when he's under the weather.

After disposing of the tissues, he helped Victor up the stairs as best as he could, tucked him into bed, checked his temperature, and then crawled under the covers with him. Victor would've inevitably wanted cuddles, and Yuri had essentially given up on accomplishing any more work in any case, so he decided he'd save Victor the effort of having to ask him to lie down with him.

Victor made a contented little noise when Yuri snuggled against his side and wrapped an arm around him.

"Comfortable?" Yuri asked.

"No, but I like it when you're close to me," Victor replied. He reached around to run his fingers through Yuri's hair, and added, "I'm not actually dying, just so you know. I only feel like I'm going to."

"I know," Yuri said. "I'm sorry I said that."

"It was funny. No need to apologize. I might feel like I'm ready for the morgue, but my sense of humour is still alive and well."

"That's good." He shifted position slightly so he could rest his head on Victor's shoulder. "Are we going to take a nap?"

"Hmm..." was Victor's wordless response.

Yuri can't help remembering how stressed Victor used to get when he had a cold or flu. He'd desperately want to be taken care of, but he didn't want to let Yuri do it, fearing that if Yuri got too close to him he would catch whatever Victor had. Eventually, they both figured out that it didn't matter because nine times out of ten Yuri would catch it regardless. After that, Victor learned to relax and to permit Yuri to fuss over him as much as he clearly wanted.

Yuri had once remarked to his mother-in-law how he thought time had changed both him and Victor. Grace's eloquent response was, "No, time doesn't change anyone. It gives people the opportunity to change themselves."

And how we've changed ourselves, he reflects as he lies next to his sleeping husband. Our attitudes have changed. Our priorities are different than they used to be. We're stronger than before.

This thought makes him happy. He used to fear change, but over the years he's come to understand that change can be good. He and Victor learned that together.

Well, not all our priorities have changed, he amends. I still love this one to the ends of the Earth and back and I still want to spend the rest of my life with him.

Yuri's mind is drawn back to the present by more slamming noises from downstairs. It's cabinet doors this time. And...the refrigerator? The fridge door being closed so hard that he's able to hear it from Victor's room cannot be good.

Victor stirs and mumbles something that sounds like, "What's going on?"

"I'd say Caroline's home from school," Yuri replies.

"Why's she so noisy?" At least that's what Yuri imagines his husband asks. Victor is obviously awake enough to hear, but not awake enough to produce coherent speech.

"I don't know, but I think I'd better go and check."

"No, I'll go," Victor says.

Victor moves like he's attempting to get up, but Yuri holds him in place with one hand. "No, you will not. If she really needs you, I'll send her up to talk to you. Otherwise, I'll look after her."

"But—"

"No 'buts'." Yuri leans over and kisses him on the forehead. "You don't need to handle everything yourself, love. You know that. Just rest, and let me take care of this."

The fact that Victor doesn't protest any further is an eloquent testimony of how bad he's feeling. "Okay," is all he says.

"I'll be back," Yuri promises.

"Okay," Victor murmurs again.

Yuri climbs off the bed and makes his way downstairs. He's still getting used to the layout of their new home. At the old house, the kitchen was in a direct line of sight from the stairs, but here the stairs are tucked away behind a wall and he has to round the corner to observe what's going on in the kitchen, dining room or foyer. He likes it better this way, though. The new house is almost as big as the old one, but somehow it feels more compact and cozy.

As he steps past the bookcases in the corner of the living room, he's able to spot Caroline sitting at the kitchen island. Her back is to him, but he can see that she's eating something from a bowl. Her hot pink backpack is on the floor next to the stool she's seated on, and its contents are peeking out of the half-opened main compartment. He notices her swimsuit and swimming cap in a clear plastic bag. The suit looks dry.

"Caroline," he says.

She doesn't turn to acknowledge him, but she says, "Hi."

He makes his way over to join her at the island. She's eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, which is her and Victor's collective favourite ice cream flavour.

She was slamming the freezer door, then.

"How was school?" he inquires.

"You know, it was school."

"And what about swim practice? You're home early. Was it cancelled today?"

'No," she says. "I didn't go. I didn't feel like it." She scoops an excessive spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and adds around the mouthful, "Don't worry. Jack and Matilda know. I said I wasn't feeling good."

"Aren't you? Feeling well, I mean. Maybe you're coming down with what Victor has."

"No, I’m not sick. I'm fine," she asserts. “Physically, anyway."

“So, what's the matter?"

"Nothing."

He smiles in spite of the circumstances. The blatant contradiction is such a typically teenage thing. "Are you certain?"

She stabs at her ice cream aggressively with the tip of her spoon. "Where's Victor?"

"He's in his room, resting. He's still not feeling well."

"Oh."

"Did you want to talk to him?"

"Yeah, but I guess it can wait," she says.

Yuri perches on the stool next to hers. "You can talk to me if you like."

He doesn't expect her to take him up on it. It's not that she never comes to him when she needs something, but he's much better at solving practical problems like how to write a good essay, who to call to get her bicycle fixed, and how to budget her money. She rarely asks him for help with more abstract personal issues, maybe because she thinks he's not good at that sort of thing, or perhaps it's because she's closer with Victor than she is with him.

Victor has always been Caroline's favourite parent. She'd bonded with him almost immediately upon meeting him, while she was still his patient, before he and Yuri even discussed the possibility of fostering her. It had taken much longer for her and Yuri to warm up to each other.

Yuri can admit he'd resented Victor's natural, easy relationship with Caroline in the beginning. He'd consoled himself by repeating over and over in his mind that it didn't matter because she was only a foster child and they wouldn't have her forever, but when Victor started bringing up the subject of adoption... To say he'd felt genuine panic would've been an understatement.

He'd been reluctant to tell Victor how he felt, but he knew he had to. Adopting a child was far too big a step for him to simply go along with it because it was something that would make Victor happy. That might've caused more discomfort and resentment in the end. It might've torn a rift between them that would've been impossible to repair, and that was the last thing Yuri wanted.

He shouldn't have been surprised at Victor's response. Rather than being upset or disappointed, Victor listened patiently while he poured out his fears and misgivings.

"I feel like an awful person," he'd confessed. He's never been one to put his emotions on display, but he'd been overwhelmed in that moment and couldn't prevent a few tears from escaping. It wasn't just his inability to embrace Caroline's presence in their lives the way Victor had that was troubling him, but also all the negative sentiments he'd been experiencing; insecurity, inadequacy, resentment, and perhaps even a little jealousy. On top of that, he was struggling under a weight of guilt and shame for having all those other feelings in the first place.

"You shouldn't," Victor told him. He'd pulled Yuri gently into his arms and let him lean against his chest. "You're not a terrible person."

"But... shouldn't I get along with her like you do?"

"Not necessarily. We all build relationships in different ways, don't we? Do you have the same relationship with both your parents?"

"No."

"No, and I don't have the same relationship with Mom that I have with Julian either, and that's okay. I love them both, and I know they love me, and that's what's important."

"That's the problem," he said. "It's obvious Caroline loves you. Shouldn't she love me too? Shouldn't she want me to help her with things and play with her and comfort her? How can I think about adopting a child who doesn't want..." He'd let the sentence fade away, unfinished. He could hardly bear to complete the thought, much less lend words to it.

"Yuri." Victor's voice was soft. He didn't speak again for several seconds, choosing instead to rub Yuri's back with the long, firm strokes Yuri had always liked. After a while, he said, "Tell me something. Do you love Caroline?"

"Yes," Yuri said. He couldn't deny that. Despite his failure to form the kind of connection with her that Victor had, he still cared deeply for her. The difficulty was, he wasn't sure she cared for him, and he was equally uncertain his love for her would be enough to make a permanent arrangement work.

As if reading his thoughts, Victor told him, "That's enough for now. Showing her you love her is the right first step. It's gonna take time for her to trust you, but you'll get there."

"She trusted you straight away. How much time will it take for me?"

"I don't know exactly," Victor said. "It could be weeks or months. You gotta keep in mind that she's been through a lot, and maybe you remind her of things she's trying to not remember right now."

"Such as?"

"Her old life. Speaking Japanese, eating with chopsticks, following all those social etiquette rules... stuff like that. Plus, you kind of look like her dad. I mean, you've seen his passport photo. I know I would've struggled if somebody who looked like my dad suddenly came into my life after he died."

"Oh." This had never occurred to Yuri before, mostly because he'd been looking at everything from his own point of view rather than trying to see things through Caroline's eyes. "Then... maybe adopting her truly isn't a good idea. I... I don't want to make it worse for her."

"You won't," Victor said. "Believe it or not, she needs something you can give her that I can't. Lots of things, actually, but she's going to learn resilience from you. She's gonna learn courage and perseverance and patience, and you know... how to pick herself up and keep going."

"Because she has a disability?"

"Yeah. I can't teach her how to live with a disability, but you can. But, it's more than just that. It's for everything in life, 'cause she's gonna fail sometimes and she might have to go through more bad experiences, and she's going to need to know how to take care of herself and not give up when stuff like that happens. You're amazing at that."

"So are you."

"Only because I've got you to support me," Victor said. "And because I figured out how to follow your example."

"But, how can I teach Caroline anything if I can't even get close to her?" he asked, hoping his desperation didn't show too much.

"Don't underestimate her," said Victor. "It's not like a violin lesson where you have to actively teach her. Just be there for her, and give her time. Let her see who you really are, and try to see her for who she really is."

"How am I meant to do that?"

"How do you do it with anybody?" Victor countered. "Like, you coexist with her, live your life alongside her, and... I don't know. Maybe ask her if there's something she'd like the two of you to do together. If you can work out what you have in common, that might help you communicate better, and I think that'd help you get closer."

Victor had been right, of course. About everything. It'd all gone much better once Yuri stopped worrying about how Caroline felt about him and turned his attention toward finding more common ground with her.

It started with gardening. One day, he asked her if she'd like to help him in the garden, and she said she would. After that, they spent a lot of time tending both the outdoor and indoor plants together. They rarely conversed at first, but they enjoyed being together nevertheless. Slowly but surely, Yuri began to feel less like an extra and more like a main character in the story of his family's life again.

Then, a day came when Caroline noticed him clipping his bonsai tree and asked him about it. Without thinking, he answered her in Japanese, something he'd been careful to avoid doing for the several preceding weeks.

To his utter shock, Caroline began to cry. Alarmed, he put down his shears and dropped to one knee so that he was at eye level with the six year old. When he asked her what was wrong, she told him tearfully that she missed speaking Japanese.

"I thought you didn't want to," he said.

"I didn't," she agreed. "You know, 'cause it made me sad. But then I got scared that I might forget, but I was also kinda scared to tell you that I changed my mind."

"It's okay," he said. "You can tell me anything you want. You don't have to be scared. I'll always listen to you, and I won't be upset if you change your mind about something."

"Really?"

"Really," he assured her. "People don't always feel the same way about everything all the time. It's totally normal to change your mind about things, especially if you know something new that you didn't know before."

"Like... how I didn't want to eat hot dogs, but now I do 'cause I know they don't really have dogs in them?"

Yuri smiled. "Yeah, exactly like that."

"Yuri?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have my own bonsai tree? I want you to teach me how to make it pretty like yours. Then I'll know something else I didn't know before, and maybe I'll want to change my mind about... other stuff."

She did not elaborate on what 'other stuff' meant, but Yuri was sure he could guess. "Of course you can have your own tree. We can ask ojii-chan to send you one from Japan. Would you like that?"

Could he have gotten her a tree from a local plant nursery? Obviously he could have, but it somehow seemed more appropriate to ask his parents to send one.

That was exactly the right choice, as things turned out. Caroline got very excited when Yuri told her his father had sent them a tracking number for the package, and for the next few days it became their little ritual to check the location of Caroline's tree on its journey from Japan to Canada. When the courier arrived, Caroline wanted to sign for the box herself, and the man graciously let her do it. Yuri scrawled his initials next to Caroline's wobbly signature, and thanked the courier for such good service.

The little tree was perfect. It survived its long voyage with no damage, and only needed water and sunlight for it to get back to looking its best. Caroline cherished it, caring for it and talking to it as if it were a pet, and she eventually learned how to trim it herself. She still tends it with as much care and dedication as she did back then, and she still loves to show it off to visitors. Under her hands, the tiny juniper tree is thriving.

It's a lot like Caroline herself, he thinks.

He'd had to learn how to nurture her, how to guide her and teach her to grow. He didn't always get it right, and as flawless a parent as Victor appeared to be, he made mistakes sometimes too. Overall, though, Yuri is proud of their progress, and he's exceptionally proud of the daughter he and Victor have raised together.

Caroline's voice inserts itself into his musings. "If I talk to you, are you going to pay attention?"

Yuri blinks. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was lost in thought."

"Long day, I guess."

"Victor's a handful when he's ill."

The smallest hint of a smile lifts the corners of Caroline's mouth. "Is he dying this time?"

"Yes, quite dramatically if you must know," Yuri says. "In a scene taken straight from a soap opera, I'd say."

This elicits a laugh. "That's how you know it's not as bad as he wants you to believe it is. If he was really sick or in a lot of pain, he wouldn't be all dramatic and stuff. Remember when he had to get those two teeth out?"

Yuri does remember. There hadn't been any theatrics that day; just Victor with his bruised and swollen jaw, crying quietly in the passenger's seat of Yuri's car on the way home from the hospital. He'd gone straight to bed with no fuss as soon as they got home, and later that evening he'd let Caroline feed him puréed fruit mixed with protein powder, with a look in his eyes of such profound gratitude that it made Yuri's heart ache to see it.

Yuri nods. "You're right. That was different."

"He'll be okay," Caroline says.

"I know, but how about you? Are you going to be all right?"

Caroline sighs. "Yeah, probably. I'm mad, but I'll get over it. It's dumb teenager stuff anyway."

"It can't be all that trivial, if you wanted to talk to Victor about it and it made you want to skip swim practice and break all the cabinet doors," Yuri says.

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine. You're not in trouble," he says. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

She eats a spoonful of ice cream, and then sits there with the spoon still in her mouth, clearly weighing up her options. Finally, she puts the spoon down and then turns slightly on her stool so she can look at him directly. "I think I'm going to break up with Forest."

This pronouncement takes him by surprise. "Why?"

"We had a fight," she says. "Not some silly disagreement over some random thing, but like, a really serious argument."

"About what?"

"You know this week at school is Futures Week, right?"

'Yes," Yuri says. "I remembered that was happening this week."

"We're in our last year of high school, and we've gotta start planning what we're going to do after," Caroline says. "They've got people from different universities and colleges coming in to give presentations, and even some guy from the military was there. Plus, we can schedule meetings with the school's guidance counsellors, and today was career day, where they had all these different professionals come in and set up tables in the gym so that we could meet them and talk about what it's like to have different kinds of jobs."

"I know about that too. James went there to represent our firm."

"I know. I talked to him. Felicity Greene's dad too, and Uncle Leo, although I don't really want to be a lawyer or a preschool teacher. Felicity said it was weird that her dad was there, and like, no surprise that Nora didn't even go 'cause she was too embarrassed about her dad being there. Honestly, I wouldn't have been embarrassed. I would've liked it if you and Victor came."

"We were otherwise occupied," he says. "But, you were telling me about you and Forest, weren't you?"

"Stupid Forest," she grumbles.

"What happened?"

"Forest didn't go either," she declares.

"Do you mean, he didn't go to school today?"

"No, he was at school, but he didn't sign up for any of the university presentations this week, and he totally refused to come to the career thing. He hid in the library the whole time."

"That doesn't sound good."

"You know my friend Mohammad? He saw Forest in there and he told me, so I went to get him, and that's how the argument started." She looks away from him momentarily as her pale skin turns deep pink. "We... we got kicked out of the library."

"Did you get detention?"

She shakes her head. "No. We went outside so we could keep talking, but that's when it really got bad. Forest told me he's not going to university."

Yuri frowns. "I thought he was planning to go to art school."

"I thought so too," Caroline says, "But now he's not. He says he doesn't want to waste his time and his parents' money on something that probably isn't going to help him get a job anyway. He says he's just going to keep working at the pizza place after graduation until... until whenever we get married. Can you believe he actually said that? I never said I wanted to marry him!"

"Didn't you?" Yuri queries. "The way I recall it, you and Forest have both been saying since you were seven years old that you want to marry each other some day."

"Yeah, well... I changed my mind," she says adamantly. "Maybe I said I wanted to marry him before I realized he has like, absolutely zero ambition. How can he be happy making pizza for minimum wage? How does a person not care about their own future?"

"There are loads of reasons why somebody might not care about their future," Yuri says.

"I'm sure none of them are very good reasons," Caroline scoffs. "Anyway, I can't be with somebody who doesn't even have goals."

Yuri is silent for a handful of seconds as he composes his thoughts. At last, he asks quietly, "Have you ever considered that you're his goal?"

Caroline peers at him, a look of perplexity on her face. "What do you mean? How can a person be another person's goal?"

"You and Forest remind me a lot of Victor and me," he says. "For the longest time, I didn't have any goals or ambitions for the future either. The only thing I wanted in life was to be with Victor. I wanted him to stay close to me and love me and give me as much attention as possible, and I wanted him to be happy. I thought that if he was happy, that would make me happy."

"Yeah, that kind of sounds like Forest," she affirms.

"And you're like Victor. You've got plans and dreams. You want to have adventures and accomplish loads of things in your life."

"Exactly."

"Another way you're like him is that your happiness doesn't depend on other people."

Caroline nods. "I learned that from Victor, actually. I remember when I was little and I'd be upset, he always told me that it was okay to feel angry or sad or scared, but that I shouldn't let myself stay like that. Like, he said if I wanted to feel better I could get there, 'cause my happiness is my own responsibility."

"He's right," Yuri says. "I know because he taught me that, too."

"Really?"

"Really. I used to be scared about quite a lot of things, and that was one of the biggest reasons why I didn't have any goals for myself. I was too afraid I'd fail at anything I tried, so I barely tried to do anything new. Then, I was depressed and frustrated, thinking about how I'd never accomplish anything."

"So, what did you do?"

"I ate a strawberry."

Caroline laughs out loud. "You always say strawberries make everything better. But seriously, what did you do? How'd you fix yourself? 'Cause you've never seemed like the type of person who's afraid of much of anything to me."

"I really ate a strawberry." Yuri repeats. He recalls the monumental effort it'd taken to pick up his chopsticks and feed himself that one small piece of fruit. "It was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

Caroline is staring at him as if he's setting up for some sort of joke. "But, you love strawberries."

"I do," he concedes. "But that doesn't mean it's always been easy for me to eat them. The winter before we moved here from Japan, I was so ill that I didn't know if I'd survive it. I couldn't eat, and I was so weak and in so much pain that I couldn't even sit up in bed on my own. My doctor decided that if she was going to keep me alive, I'd need to have a feeding tube, so that's what we did."

"Is that what the little scar on your belly is from?"

"It is," he confirms. "One might think it'd be scary to get all your nourishment through a tube in your stomach, but it was such a relief to me. It meant I didn't have to physically eat anything, and I knew the formula would be safe and wouldn't cause me any pain. That eliminated the anxiety of eating."

"Eating gave you anxiety? Like... just eating?"

"Yes, and it still does sometimes, as hard as that might be to grasp."

"It kind of is, honestly. I love eating."

"I know you do. That's another way you're more like Victor than like me." He smiles. "I'm glad you love to eat. I wouldn't wish my problems on anybody."

"So, what happened?" she prompts. "Obviously you started eating real food again."

"I had to go through a lot of therapy," he says. "The goal was to remove the tube within a year, and as much as I was relieved that I didn't have to put food in my mouth for a while, I also knew I didn't want to live with the tube long-term. So, my doctor and therapist got me to start by setting small goals, and the first one was that if I wanted to eat anything by mouth, I had to feed myself."

"You weren't feeding yourself?"

"No."

"Why?" Caroline asks.

"It was too difficult," he replies. "At least that's what I'd convinced myself of, but the truth was, I'd essentially given up on everything. I couldn't imagine a future with anything other than more pain and fear and failure, and it was... too much."

"But eating a strawberry changed your mind?"

"It wasn't actually as simple as that, but eating a strawberry showed me what was possible," he says. "Victor was having a fruit salad. The strawberries were fresh and they smelled delicious, and I really wanted one, but Victor wasn't allowed to feed it to me. It took all the willpower I had in me to put that strawberry into my mouth, and I almost changed my mind at the last second, but to this day I'm glad I didn't. Now I like to think that one strawberry was the beginning of the rest of my life."

"How?"

"Because it made me realize even the smallest victories matter," he says. "Because I started to understand that success can be measured in tiny increments and doesn't have to be something huge or spectacular. But, mostly because I finally saw that I could do things for myself, that I could set goals and work for them."

"So... you're saying Forest should eat a strawberry?"

"Metaphorically speaking, yes."

"How can I get him to do it?" Caroline wants to know.

Yuri reaches across the space between them and touches her hand lightly. "That's the thing, little one. You can't."

"But—"

"Forest has to be ready to learn that lesson on his own," Yuri says. "I'm sure Victor was frustrated with me sometimes, and maybe he even secretly questioned why he'd agreed to marry someone with so little self-worth, but he never pushed me. That wouldn't have worked."

"What did he do?"

"He stuck with me even when I thought he'd be better off leaving. He was patient with me, and he loved me when I didn't know how to love myself."

Caroline picks up her spoon again and begins to fidget with it. "Are you saying I shouldn't break up with Forest?"

"No," Yuri says. "Only you and Forest can decide whether or not that's the right choice. What I'm saying is to give yourselves some time to calm down after what happened today, and then ask him if the two of you can talk. Arguing is normal, but you need to deal with the thing that caused the argument to begin with."

"Even if we're not going to be girlfriend and boyfriend?"

"Even so, especially if you still want to be friends with him."

"I do," Caroline says emphatically. "I love Forest. He’s my best friend. Even if we end up marrying other people some day, I always want us to be friends."

"If that's truly how you feel, then don't give up on him," Yuri says. "You can still help him even if you're not in a relationship."

"But... you just said I can't make him eat the metaphorical strawberry."

"You can't make him do it, but that doesn't mean you can't show him the way. You can talk to him and try to find out what's holding him back, and you can support and encourage him when he wants to try new things."

"Like getting his driver's license?"

"Exactly. If you're proud of him for doing that, then tell him."

"I am," she says. "That was a big deal 'cause he was so scared he wouldn't pass the road test, but he did it."

"Then make a big deal of it," Yuri says. "That might seem silly, but unless I miss my guess, it won't seem silly at all to Forest."

"Do you think it'll work?"

"Only time will tell," he says. "The surest way to find out is to try."

"Okay," Caroline says. She slips off her stool and steps forward to hug him. "Thanks for the talk, Papa."

He reciprocates the embrace, pleased as always to hear her call him 'Papa' and to get a hug from her. She's physically demonstrative like Victor, and although her spontaneous displays of affection sometimes made him uncomfortable in the early days, he's grown to appreciate them very much.

"You're welcome," he says.

"Is it okay if I go upstairs and say hi to Victor now?"

"I'm sure he'd like that, but don't disturb him if he's sleeping."

"I know," Caroline says. "If he's sleeping, I'll just stay in there and start my homework. You know, so he won't be alone when he wakes up."

"Good idea," Yuri says. "I was going to go back up there with him and I thought perhaps we'd order something for dinner, but now that you're here, you can keep him company and I can cook instead."

"What are you going to make?"

"How do you feel about carrot and ginger soup? That's fairly easy. And I can make grilled cheese sandwiches for you and Victor."

"We like those," Caroline says. "Ice cream for dessert?"

Yuri smiles. "Haven't you already had enough ice cream?"

"Is there such a thing as too much ice cream?" She gathers her backpack from the floor and slings the strap over her shoulder before turning to leave. “You can text me when it's ready. That way, you won't have to yell."

Yuri waves in the direction of the stairs. "Go. I'll just bring your sandwiches to you, and then you can come down here for soup afterwards."

"Cool. Thanks!"

Yuri watches her as she disappears around the edge of the bookcases. He can hear her bounding up the steps with all the energy her mere seventeen years afford her and wonders if, like Victor, she'll retain most of that energy into middle age. Caroline and Victor may not be biologically related, but they're so much alike that they might as well be.

Both of us may be her parents, but she's truly his child.

Shaking his head, Yuri returns to the kitchen. He picks up Caroline's abandoned bowl and spoon, rinses them, and puts them in the dishwasher. Typically he would've asked her to do that herself, but today is an atypical day.

He puts on some classical music and then focuses on the business of making dinner. Carrot soup is one of his favourite dishes. Victor used to make it for him often when he was relearning how to eat, and once he'd graduated to doing meal preparation, he began making it on his own. Usually, they have it with garlic bread and a garden salad topped with diced chicken, but Victor hasn't had much of an appetite today and Yuri guesses he'd prefer to have his favourite comfort food, grilled cheese. Besides, grilled cheese sandwiches are a lot less effort.

He prepares the soup first. While it's simmering in the slow cooker and filling the kitchen with the warm aroma of ginger, he gets to work on the grilled cheese. He decides he'll have peanut butter toast to go with his soup, since he doesn't like cheese, but he can get that ready after he finishes with the sandwiches for Victor and Caroline.

Soon enough, he's making his way up the stairs with a tray laden with two golden grilled sandwiches and two mugs of steaming green tea with honey. He passes Caroline's room and is nearly at the half-opened door of Victor's when he catches the thread of a conversation.

"...and I don't think he realizes it, but he's a totally amazing parent."

Victor's voice is hoarse, but he sounds much more awake and alert than he did earlier. "I think so too."

Yuri pauses outside the door and tries to peek into the room without being noticed. Victor is lying diagonally across his bed, and Caroline is sitting cross-legged beside him, holding his hand. Caroline is facing away from the door, and he thinks she's likely blocking Victor's view of the hallway.

"I was so mad, but Yuri knew exactly what to say," Caroline continues. "Like, he understood the problem right away and he told me what I should do, and it actually made a lot of sense."

"You shouldn't be shocked," says Victor. "You know, he's very smart and his advice is just as valid as mine. Maybe more so, depending on the subject. There's stuff he can do a lot better than I can."

"Well, he's really good at explaining stuff, and he knows how to get me to see things from a different perspective." Caroline says. "He helped me a lot with what happened today."

Yuri can hear Victor's smile in his voice. "You should tell him that. Sometimes he still worries about whether or not he's doing a good job."

There's no hesitation in Caroline's reply. "He's always done a good job. You're my favourite, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate him or that he's not good at being a dad. He's awesome and I love him just as much as I love you."

"I'm glad," Victor says. "You know, it'd make his day to hear that."

"I'll tell him," Caroline says.

For a moment Yuri stays in place, trying to take in what he's just overheard. Then, not wanting to give away the fact that he was eavesdropping, he backs carefully down the hall and approaches the door again, deliberately making a bit of noise this time.

He halts in the doorway of Victor's room with a cheerful, "Dinner is served!"

It sounds a bit too upbeat to his ears, but Caroline doesn't seem to notice. Victor does, though. He catches Yuri's eye, smiles and mouths, "Nice one." Yuri wonders whether Victor was able to see him in the hallway after all.

Caroline bounces off the bed and comes over to inspect the tray. "This smells so good!"

"The soup is ready too, if you want some of that."

"Yes, please," Caroline says as she lifts one of the plates. "I'm going to take this to the kitchen and have some soup too, and then I'm going to FaceTime with Felicity because I promised her I'd help her with our math homework."

"Isn't Felicity's mother a financial analyst or something?" Victor asks.

"Yeah, but Felicity says she doesn't know how to make math simple," Caroline explains. "She'd rather get help from somebody who can tell her how to do it step by step, so... Captain Math to the rescue."

"All right, Captain Math," Yuri says. "Enjoy your dinner and your study session."

As Caroline exits the room, Yuri sets the tray with the remaining sandwich and the two cups of tea on the bedside table. Victor sits up, and remarks, "That does look good. I wish I could smell it."

"Hopefully you'll be able to taste it," Yuri says.

"We're about to find out." He picks up half the sandwich and bites into it. With his mouth full, he continues, "So, I guess you heard Caroline singing your praises?"

Yuri looks away. His face is suddenly hot, and he says, "Sorry. I wasn't intentionally spying on the two of you."

"I know," Victor says. He pats the space next to him. "Come here and let me tell you why Caroline is right."

Yuri obligingly climbs onto the bed and then reaches across Victor to get one of the mugs of tea before finally settling against Victor's side. "You think she's right?"

Victor slides an arm around his shoulders. "Why wouldn't I? You are totally amazing as a partner and a parent, and Caroline is right about you having a talent for getting people to see things in new ways. I knew that about you before we ever had Caroline, but how you're able to break stuff down in a way that she understands? That's a real skill, and you know what else?"

"What else?"

"You passed it on to her."

"At least I passed something along to her."

"What are you talking about? You've given her a lot. Whether or not you realize it, she's like you in a lot of ways. She's strong and determined like you, and she's practical and logical and great at reading people. Plus, she has your sense of humour."

"That... that's not exactly something to be proud of."

"Sure it is," Victor says. "You can make me laugh, and sometimes that's worth more than all the wealth in the universe."

"Did I really give all that to Caroline?" Yuri asks.

"Yeah, you did. That, and a lot more. You can ask her if you want to. I'm pretty sure she wants to tell you."

"I'm not sure I'd be comfortable asking."

"That's okay," Victor says. "I think she'll tell you on her own, when she finds the right moment."

Yuri closes his eyes and leans into the warmth of his husband's one-armed embrace. "I never thought we'd reach this point," he says. "Caroline and me, I mean."

"I knew you would," Victor says.

"That's because you're an eternal optimist."

Victor kisses the top of his head. "It's easy to be optimistic when I have such a great family. You and Caroline make me happy and you help me keep my faith in humanity. How could I think the future's gonna be anything but good with the two of you around?"

Yuri contemplates this for a moment, and feels his features gradually relax into a smile. They may have had a rough beginning, but everything is better now, and he has to acknowledge Victor is right. Their lives may not be perfect and they may have difficult times ahead, but that doesn't mean the future won't be good. His family loves him and he loves them. No matter what happens, with the three of them all supporting each other, they can make the best of it.

[wcrriorhearts]

her heart is hammering in her chest so hard that she feels like throwing up as she enters the lobby of the hospital. the past two days have been a blur, from the moment the telephone rang, to her arrival at the capitol now. eight months have passed since finnick was declared dead and two days ago an apologetic capitol doctor called her, declaring that her husband had been found after the war, but that it had taken months for them to identify him and even longer to find a way to contact her, given there were no records of their marriage in the new world and he had no next of kin officially registered. for the briefest moment annie had expected it to be a cruel joke, until hope with the force of a thousand suns had flooded her chest and set everything ablaze. finnick was alive. but he was also dying.

or so the doctor had said. even after months of intensive therapy and care, his condition was critical and they didn't want to give her hope. they had asked her to come to the capitol to be by his side, but take into consideration that this might be their last goodbyes. after his death, annie had longed for one more moment with him to say everything that had been left unsaid, but now that she knows he lives, all she longs for is for him to survive. as someone who has worked at a hospital since the war ended, annie knows she has to be realistic, but there is this small voice in the back of her mind that tells her they can make it. as long as they're together again, they can beat all odds, just as they have in the past.

this morning, before she got on the train, annie called johanna, because she needed to call someone. the other victor promised she would come to the capitol as well to be with annie, knowing finnick's wife is eight months pregnant with the child he doesn't know about yet and should not go through so much stress alone. now she stands at the reception, however, so nervous that her whole body trembles, but she tries to keep her nerves under control. a friendly nurse comes to take her to finnick's room and gives her a short overview of what she can expect, before halting in front of a door. he is delirious most of the time, sleeps almost all day and might not react to her much. she can live with that. annie needs three attempts to bring herself to open the door and finally step inside, breathless from her racing heart and all the emotions exploding in her chest at the sight of him. pale, thin and sickly looking, but the man in the bed before her is definitely finnick. her finn, the love of her life, whom she has mourned since the day they told her he wasn't coming home. alive. nothing else matters for now. annie draws closer and quietly approaches the bed, sinking into the chair next to it. she reaches out tentatively and takes his hand into her own, which is pleasantly warm. "finny? it's me, i'm here now. everything's gonna be okay. we'll be alright."

@sleeplesswork

[darthvashtique93]

Love

Tim leaned against a pillar as he stared out at his jovial teammates. They had just successfully eradicated the entire HIVE and put The General (aka Ulysses Hadrian Armstrong) behind bars at Blackgate Penitentiary. Because this was a huge win for the Titans and Red Robin, Tim gave Garfield and Bart the 'okay' to throw a party at the tower. He now regretted that decision. The place looked like a frat house on crack. Titans and ex-Titans from around the globe came to celebrate. The place was packed with at least 200 superheroes aged 15-25. As the underaged heroes entering the party were discouraged from drinking via telepaths, sorcerers, etc., underage drinking would not be a problem. Victor hooking himself up to the Tower's sound system, on the other hand, was a major problem Tim had not foreseen. Music now blasted from every single wall, room, and corner of the tower. There were no places for Tim to hide. "Tim!" Tim looked up to see Cassie running to him. She had a drink in one hand, and Connor in the other. "Tim, what's wrong?" Cassie asked with a pout. "You promised Connor and me that you would relax and have fun. You said you would take a break from thinking," she said as Connor nodded in agreement. "Go dance with someone!" she shouted over the music.

"Who?" Tim questioned.

"Anyone!" Cassie shouted. "There's a plethora of females here wishing you would dance with them."

"And some males," Connor added. Tim just smiled at his two close friends. "There's Stephanie," Connor pointed out. "You could dance with her."

"I'm not going to dance with my ex," Tim stated, giving his friend a look that screamed 'You are an imbecile.'

"Why would you even suggest that?" Cassie asked her fiancée.

Connor shrugged. "I was trying to be helpful."

Tim looked around the packed common room. Everyone was accounted for. Well, almost everyone. "Have you seen Raven?" Tim asked the two.

"Oooh, Raven," Cassie teased. Tim rolled his eyes. "I have no clue where your favorite heroine is. Probably far away from this noise. Oh look, a pinata!" Cassie shouted, her attention elsewhere. She dashed back into the crowd, heading straight towards the pinata. "I'm gonna go make sure she doesn't hurt anyone," Connor said. Tim nodded as Connor followed his girlfriend into the crowd. Tim began to think. Hmm, if I were Raven, where would I be? She wouldn't stay in the tower with all the noise, but she wouldn't leave the island just in case someone needed her. Tim smiled. He knew where she was. Tim turned and walked out of the room, trying to avoid even more dancing along with amorous couples in the hall. This party had been a really bad idea.

Tim finally found her at the beach on the other side of the island. She was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, so close to the ocean. Every time a wave broke on the sand, the water come up to her toes. Tim looked her over. She glowed in the moonlight and looked absolutely lovely. Her hair, once violet, was now a midnight blue color. It fell straight and silky past her shoulder blades, almost reaching her waist. She wore a simple outfit. Short shorts and purple, sheer, short-sleeved shirt with a black strapped bandeau. Tim released a breath he had been holding. She is so beautiful. "Hey," he greeted upon approaching her.

Raven blinked up at him. If Tim didn't know any better, he would have thought her startled. "Hey," she replied before quickly looking around, "you found my hiding place."

"I did," Tim sat next to her. "Leaving the tower was not an easy task," Tim told her. "Whose idea was it to throw this massive party?"

"Um…I believe it was yours."

"No, I wanted a party with just us. San Fran Titans only."

"You put Garfield and Bart in charge," Raven deadpanned. "I warned you."

"You did," Tim said with a chuckle. "A part of me knew it was going to get crazy. I just didn't expect…that," he pointed to the glowing tower.

"Surely, you've been to some crazy parties of your own, Mr. I-graduated-college-at-18," Raven said playfully.

"I will have you know that I never attended a single college party."

"Didn't you show up at one of Jason's – "

"We will not speak of that night."

"I never ever thought I'd see the day when Tim Drake-Wayne was high."

Tim's head fell in his hands in embarrassment. "I wish I could forget."

"It was entertaining. Garfield took videos." Tim let out a woeful moan. "He said he will release them at just the right moment," Raven laughed. Tim groaned. "I'm thinking…wedding," she added, "at least he didn't send them to the entire superhero community."

"Yes. It could have been worse."

"How did Bruce react?"

"He didn't know what to think. He wasn't even disappointed. He was downright shocked."

"What's it like being high?" Raven asked. "I never had the chance to ask you."

"I think it's different for everyone because it felt like I was floating on a cloud that was about to burst, plunging me to my death."

"Oh."

"I never want experience that feeling again. I like feeling all of my extremities and having some semblance of control over what comes out of my mouth."

"We should hope Jason doesn't show up here. There are at least 25 underaged heroes in there."

"I asked Bruce to keep him busy. He has Jason attending a benefit with him. I believe Rose is there, too."

"I have heard from Dick, Kori, and Barbara that those things are extremely dry and boring," Raven said. "I have never been to one, but it does not seem exciting."

"I'm gonna have to take you to one."

"Pass," Raven immediately said.

The two friends sat in a comfortable silence before Tim said, "You've been really distant lately." Raven turned her head to Tim. "Ever since the Oz incident," Raven shifted uncomfortable at the mention of Oz. "But it's only with me. No one else."

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you were presumably 'dead' for two years," Raven bit out sharply. She immediately flinched afterward. "Sorry," she said.

"It's okay," Tim answered, "I asked. I am really sorry you guys had to go through that."

"It wasn't your choice or your fault. I know that. I just…I had just made peace with the fact that you were dead. And then you weren't." Tim studied her. He didn't understand at all. "I don't mean to be distant," Raven said. "I just…" her voice trailed off as she drew in the sand with her finger. "I guess I'm afraid."

"Of what?" Tim asked.

Raven didn't answer. Instead, she asked, "How long do you think this party will last?"

"Well, the party started at 9. It is now," Tim pulled his phone out of his shorts' pocket. "It is now 1 in the morning. I'd say we have about 4 hours left."

Raven threw herself back onto the sand. "Great," she huffed. Her head rested on her hands as her eyes closed.

Tim's eyes traced her body and immediately fell to the belly button ring. That's… new. Tim gulped before laying beside her. He really needed to get his hormones under control. He was just happy Raven had learned how to completely block out other's emotions. "So," Tim cleared his throat. He really wanted to get back to the question Raven had so artfully avoided, but he didn't know how. He decided on a tactic. "Did you have stars like this on Azarath?" he asked. Really? He mentally rolled his eyes. That wasn't the question he wanted to ask, but…

"We had stars," Raven answered, "but not like this. The night wasn't nearly as dark as it is here. We didn't have streetlights because there was no need. Azarath had two moons. The moons were always full. We would watch the moons rise the way you watch a sunrise. Once a month, when the moons reached their peak, different colors would flash through the sky. We were able to see the different galaxies. Ooh, and every other month, there was a meteor shower."

Tim could sense her excitement as she talked about her life on Azarath. Have I never asked her about Azarath? Sometimes Tim forgot Raven wasn't from Earth. "That seems awesome," Tim said when he realized she had stopped talking.

Raven turned to him. The joy in her eyes accentuated her beauty even more. "It was amazing," she breathed. "I wish I could show you," she said sadly.

"I would have loved to have seen it," Tim told her softly. He slowly reached his hand up and removed an errant strand of inky black hair.

"You would have tried to map out the galaxies. Then you would have named them," Raven smiled breathlessly.

"Probably," Tim laughed. They both stared into each other's eyes. Tim moved closer to her; his thumb gently stroked her lower lip.

Raven abruptly lifted herself up on her elbows, surprising Tim. "I can show you," she said, sitting all the way up.

Tim followed her. "How?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Raven crossed her legs and motioned for Tim to do the same. They sat across from each other. "Do you trust me?" she asked.

"You have to ask?" Tim said with a smile.

"Tim," Raven said seriously. "I'm about to enter your mind."

Tim looked deep into Raven's eyes, all playfulness leaving his face. "I trust you more than anyone I know," and he was shocked at how true that was.

Raven nodded. "Close your eyes and relax," she said as her eyes glowed white, and she placed a hand on each side of Tim's face. She began chanting. "Open your eyes," Tim heard a soft voice breathe in his mind. He obeyed. A jolt of fear shot through him. "Stay calm," Raven's voice echoed softly. Tim turned to see an older version of Raven dressed in white robes, with glowing white eyes, looking down at him with a smile. "You're in one my memories," her voice echoed. Tim immediately slowed his breathing, taking a moment to look at his surroundings. Judging from the way they were dressed, this was Azarath. "Raven, look," the older woman beside him said, "it's starting." Tim looked up at the dark sky to see two moons and the most beautiful colors sparkling in the night sky. Galaxies. The sky then lit up with flying objects. Tim easily recognized the meteor shower. He felt a swell of happiness and peace rush through him.

A minute later, Tim and Raven were back in their respective bodies on a beach in San Francisco. "Raven," he breathed.

She immediately knelt next to him and placed a hand on his chest. His heart was racing. "Calm down, Tim," she breathed softly as her healing powers slowly seeped into him, slowing his heart back to its regular pace.

"It was so beautiful," Tim said, covering the hand on his chest with his own. "But I didn't feel like me. I felt…different." He turned to look at the empath.

Raven's eyes lowered to the ground. "You were seeing through my eyes," Raven said.

"It was a memory," Tim breathed. "I was happy. You were happy and at peace."

"That is the last memory I have of my mother," Raven said, subtly trying to dislodge the hand trapped against Tim's chest. "Eight hours later, Trigon attacked." A solo tear ran down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away.

"Thank you for sharing it with me," Tim said in awe of what she had just done. It was no little thing, Raven showing a part of herself to him. She didn't let anyone, anyone into her head. Ever. In that moment, it hit him. I hope I'm right, he thought. "Raven," he scooted closer to her. She shifted onto her knees, staring intently at him. "I'd like to ask you a question." Raven nodded. "Earlier you said you were afraid. Why?" Tim could see her begin to disappear behind her wall. "No, don't," he sat up. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Disappear."

"I don't know – "

"You're afraid of me…or for me?" Raven looked away. "Why?" Tim asked, searching her face. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But you did," Raven replied. "You died. Tim, you were dead for two years."

"Raven," he reached for her hands.

"What happens next time you die, for real?"

"Raven…"

"I…" Raven opened her mouth to respond; her lower lip trembled. Tim reached a hand up and caressed her cheek. Raven leaned into his hand. "Tim," Raven's voice trembled as she tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let her.

Tim placed his hand behind her head and gently pulled her forward. Kissing her lower lip first, he connected their mouths, fused their lips together. He swallowed her gasp of surprise as he placed an arm around her waist and pulled her close, chest-to-chest. He massaged her lips with his own, drinking in her soft sounds and moans. He felt Raven slowly, tentatively placing her fingers in his hair. Tim gently pushed her, coaxing her onto her back. He broke the kiss to breathe her name. "I don't know how long I've been wanting to do that," he said, rubbing their noses together.

Raven was breathless. She stared up at Tim with her large eyes. "I've wanted to do that for four years," Raven breathed out, her fingers tangled in Tim's hair.

"Really?" Tim asked as he softly drew designs on her stomach with his finger.

Raven bit one side of her lower lip, drawing his eye. "Tim," she whispered, "I um…" she paused, nervously. The feeling of his fingers on her stomach; the one stroking her hair – she couldn't concentrate. "I think…no," she paused, "I know that I- "

Tim placed his mouth over Raven's again, pressing his lips hard against hers. He lifted his head and breathed out, "I know. And I'm so sorry it took me so long to see how much you do. I love you, too." The amount of happiness and joy flooding her eyes nearly brought tears to Tim's eyes. He slowly brushed his lips against hers before slowly molding his lips to her, pressing his body against hers, slipping his tongue in and out of her mouth, sucking on her lower lip, basking in her breathless, soft moans. He needed to slow down. He didn't want to get so carried away he scared her away for good, but damn! He could kiss her forever. Just as he started kissing down her neck, drunken laughs interrupted him. He stopped and took in Raven's appearance. Her lips were swollen; she was blushing and breathless. They turned to see who had interrupted them. Two members of Titans international were about to have sex on the beach…and not the beverage. Raven and Tim started laughing quietly. "I think your secret hideout has been compromised," Tim laughed. "They stole my idea though."

"Tim," Raven gasped, blushing as she gently slapped Tim's arm.

"What?" he asked, gazing at her mischievously. "I'm just being honest."

"Well, can we go?" Raven asked as the passionate couple's moans and groans grew louder. "I don't want to hear all that."

"Sure," Tim said, rolling off her. He quickly jumped to his feet before helping Raven stand up. He then grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up against his body until not a single millimeter of space was left between them. He kissed her once again so passionately; if he hadn't been holding her, Raven would have swooned. By the time he pulled away, Raven had her arms wrapped around his neck, and she was out of breath. Raven had the feeling that as long as she was with Tim, she would probably always be out of breath.

The world stopped as Tim gazed into Raven's eyes. "Thank you for trusting me," he kissed her forehead. "Thank you for befriending me," he kissed her nose. "And thank you for loving me," he gently kissed her mouth. Raven nodded before snuggling closer to Tim as they began to walk back to the loud, Titan Tower turned frat house.

"I don't want to go back there," Raven whispered.

"I have a place," Tim blushed. He placed his forehead against Raven's, mentally sending him an image. Raven's eyes glowed black. The next instant, they were landing on a bed. "Perfect," Tim said before kissing her again. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," Raven whispered back. Tim smiled beautiful before he eagerly began kissing her again, much to Raven's amusement. But Tim couldn't help himself. He felt so free. The future he once worried about, didn't seem so bleak anymore now that he knew Raven would be right there by his side.

[mythvoiced]

❝  you will understand in time.  ❞ ( patrick at...maría?? >:3 )

@clemencetaught | PHANTOM OF THE OPERA / SENTENCE STARTERS

---

A tale as old as time: the young and the less so, not quite old, but drained by life just enough that hearing what digits they carry with them in actuality, when contrasted with the age reflected in their eyes, the weight of the time equivalent of the experiences they've gathered, few don't find their own eyes widening when realising, putting two and two together, recognising the implications of a person not yet grey-haired speaking of pain and war with intimate familiarity.

A tale as old as time: the young, reckless, the first year of war, or the second, their first run, their first time smelling decaying corpses and feeling flaws crawl up their nostrils, choking them from within no matter how desperately they attempt to beg them to stop.

A tale as old as time: frustration v wisdom.

She will. She doesn't assume she won't. But as she stands there, body always angled away from Patrick and that wise, old, holder of past hurt look in his eyes, as she stands there and keeps dragging her hands through her hair, fingers getting suspiciously entangled just enough for her to rip, as she stands there and doesn't stand but paces, with her mascara dragging black lines down her face, as she growls in spite of her tears, she realises one thing, what-

"- if I don't want to?!" she hiccups into a shout, whipping around to stare at Patrick. A part of her acts as the spokeswoman to her shame, making her chest feel hot with it, when she recognises what she's doing.

Hasn't he suffered enough?

Hasn't he been here enough, stuffed into a suit, shoved into his victor throne, made to face her as she burns on the stake of her ache? Yes, yes, he has, yes, he knows better, yes, yes, yes, all of that, yes, BUT-

"How can you say that?" she lowers her voice until she's pushing it through her teeth, jaws clenched, stepping closer, face contorted, incapable of sticking to a grimace that manages to hide the desperation in her eyes.

They say, rely on your 'elders'. Listen to those that came before you, let them guide you in a world you don't understand. The Capitol, lights too bright, sounds too foreign, so many of the colours she's broken her back to help put on their clothes, stuck with her neck in the noose of their world and one foot stuck back at home.

One foot stuck in the Arena.

She inhales, sharply, reels herself back in.

"I don't want to," she metaphorically puts her foot down. Then reaches up to mess her hair up further. The Capitol can doll her up all they want. She'll always find a way to ruin it. When her arms drop back at her sides, they do so almost defiantly. She lifts her chin.

"I don't want to understand. I want to do something. How can you ask me to sit here and... and- and just..." her hand tries to encompass what her voice struggles to, but she drops it, bites her tongue, lifts her gaze to meet his once more.

"You shouldn't do that to yourself, either. Understand. They're not kind enough to understand us. Why should I bother to-- isn't that what they want us to do? Sit here and ponder until we realise why we deserve all this? No. There's nothing to understand. All I need to know, I already know."

Her forefinger reaches his chest. She doesn't stab him with it, much like her features soften, mellow out in the pleas of a child hoping the adult she wants to keep safe sees how hard she tries.

"You can't do that to yourself. You have to keep fighting. Don't let them-- don't give up on yourself."

Please.

[rebellicnrising]

WHO: kaleb ripley & dante @riiseandfall WHERE: a hallway near the training room WHEN: after the tribute interviews

he's not sure how he ended up here. at some point after max had left- ( or had he left max? truthfully, he doesn't remember )- kaleb had left that corner booth, waving off more of those insistent voices that demanded to withdraw their bets ( tomorrow, tomorrow-- i'll get with you tomorrow-- ) and slipped deeper into the tribute training center, hands in his pockets and his thoughts racing. it takes him a moment to realize what this places is- another hallway that circles above the training center, doubling as an observation deck- and his steps slow to a stop, turning to approach the windows that looked down into the large gymnasium-- the equipment, the training dummies, the weapons.

( it's all falling apart. ) before the games were said and done, he would lose every cent he'd made if things kept up as they were-- even now, he knows that if he were to check his messages, there'd be dozens upon dozens of notifications full of people wanting to withdraw their bets, voicing their own pieces of that outcry from the interviews. he should've told each and every last one of them no-- told them that they knew the rules, bets could not be withdrawn past the gamemakers scores being released, like he inevitably had to tell at least one asshole every fucking year; but this year wasn't like any other year. hell, even he can't condone what the games have brought this year-- and he's too tired to argue.

it's the only way he can think to describe it: tired. this bone deep ( sadness ) weariness that drags at him, weighing him down even as he stands there overlooking that training equipment. that heaviness in his chest that ached with loss-- the loss of business, loss of his mother ( no-- no, we're not feeling that here ) and the loss of -- ( don't. ) his own voice speaks the warning in his mind, trying to fight against how that ache in his heavy chest twinges, unable to stop the memory of the rose garden and purple glittering around wild blue eyes. ( i don't care what sort of monster you think you are or what you might become because of it because i'll love you in spite of it. -- you’ll love me? …you can’t. you shouldn’t—we have a rule-- ) it's a physical pain that shoots through his chest and hands reach for that railing that lines the overlooking windows, gripping tightly as his jaw clenches- fighting to keep his expression flat- and mind echoing with those four words; how the moment they were spoken, the rug had been pulled out from under his feet.

we have a rule-- -- he never expected he would be the one to break it. it had been a joke once upon a time- a ground rule established while they came down, sweaty and panting, limbs heavy with euphoria; he'd laughed when dante had said it-- kaleb ripley fall in love? make himself vulnerable and give another person power over him in such a way? it was fucking laughable-- goddamn preposterous. he hadn't fallen in love; love had crept quietly into his heart, climbing vines up his spine and twisting around his ribs before slipping silently into his heart and covering it from the inside out. love that bloomed when dante smiled, when he laughed. it had been so quiet, he hadn't realized it at first and tried to ignore it- to deny it-- only to have it slip from his mouth unbidden ( i'll love you in spite of it ), exposing just how deeply dante had rooted himself in kaleb's chest. the door to his heart had flung open without thought- ( i'll love you in spite of it-- the door is open, to welcome you home-- ) leaving him open and exposed and--

we have a rule -- -- and it had been this sharp reminder; that's not what this was, what was between them. he could lie to himself all he wanted but when it boiled down to it, it was a business transaction. ( that victor you parade on your arm like some sort of prize you have done nothing to earn-- ) a friendship if he were to be generous though it certainly hadn't been built the way of conventional friendship. he'd wanted to claim it was a slip of the tongue, play it off but the moment those words had left dante's mouth, all it sounded like was rejection-- a hurt that he pulled himself from as hard and fast as he could, slamming that door shut and barricading himself inside. ( we have a rule-- fucking fool, what did you think would happen? and what difference does it make in the end? what has any of this earned you aside from pain? ) they had a rule for a reason and it's echoing in his mind ( we have a rule-- ) playing in the background of the memory of his father's office ( -- your mother is dead because of you-- it should've been you-- )-- the screens above caesar broadcasting those executions and his mind supplanting his mother's frightened face in their place while a peacekeeper plays back the sound of his own voice in the rose garden tight with emotion ( you want to make them choke on it? // i'll love you in spite of it )-- and he can feel notification after notification roll in, vibrating against his thigh and he knows what they're all going to say and he can practically see the numbers of his accounts plummeting and every success he had fought for on his own is crumbling around him, the games looming ever closer and the clock ticking down those moments and who knew if he'd ever get another with--

( it's all falling apart. )

the weight of the last 24 hours crashes on him and he feels so goddamn heavy and his mind is so unbearably loud-- this cacophony of noise that runs each thought over one another in this never ceasing loop of all these failures. there was no one else to blame, he was the orchestrator of his own demise, each choice leading to another and he was just now getting to see the domino effect of those choices; he just had to stand back and watch it all burn. he's aware of the sound of steps approaching and when he turns his head to investigate, shoulders tense and there's that urge left over from the tribute ball that whispers ( leave ) to himself at the approaching figure but he stands still, turning his face back towards the glass windows, staring out into that empty room. "you did well in the interview," he says to dante, eyes still glued ahead, voice calm and detached, "held your composure and played the part better than most."

[bronze-bell]

Aesop holds his tongue, keeping silent as he enjoys Victor's voice reaching his ears, the meanings secondary to the little melodies and phrases from the postman sounding out the words. This was not a voice people heard often... and right now, it was all his.

Of course, this meant his reaction to the words was delayed. The first sign Aesop had registered what was said was an unmistakable clinginess, the hands around Victor's back fidgety and nervous, holding on tight. The second sign was the way Aesop tried to speak, but only breath would leave his mouth.

In truth, Aesop held too many thoughts at once, too many feelings forming a bottleneck at his throat, rendering him unable to express anything. He knew if he let such a thing open, everything would spill. His own performance, a performance of professionalism that he held to keep himself distant, to keep people from seeing how little he knew how to handle, had fallen apart in front of Victor already. But... Victor was someone who was fine with every part of him. Someone who loved all his cracks, his flaws, his sins.

...So the answer was a... no, with certain extra steps. Would it not be fine, then, to make up for what was not given in the past? Would it not be okay to wish first and foremost for someone like that not to have to fear what will happen anymore? The manor kept wounds fresh and unhealed, tissue unable to scar. As long as Victor would put his trust in Aesop, Aesop would do so, so much for him.

Aesop's voice finally leaked out, words dripping and halting and struggling to form. "O-of course I do. Why... wouldn't I?" Aesop's thumb traced circles along the back of Victor's neck, that divot where skull met spine, as the rest of his fingers tangled within the postman's blonde hair. "This—a-all of this—is wonderful... thank you."

Victor lets a static buzz build up in his throat with a quiet noise as he's held tighter, letting himself be squeezed like a bath toy and letting out a sad giggle in response. He doesn't know why he's sad, or even really registers that he is, only that his voice sounds as such, cracking and wavering just a little as it hitches in bubbly bursts of raspy laughter, sickly and unused against Aesop's body.

Aesop, despite being cold to the touch, still felt oh so warm as Victor is pulled closer against him. Aesop's heartbeat flows through his chest, soothing him, grounding him, making him feel whole. Every scar, every permanently fresh wound, every burn that coats the places he likes to hide, it's all open for Aesop to explore as he likes.

But Aesop doesn't press hard, or dig his fingers in, or poke or prod at the openings in an attempt to hear him wince. Instead the touch is gentle, gloves like silk as they graze him, and though it could turn deadly or painful at any time, Victor finds himself trusting it, not going tense like he would at anyone else exploring him like this. Because it's Aesop, and Aesop would never hurt him. He's sure of that fact.

Then the reply comes and he's already melting at the confirmation that he's doing good, that Aesop is satisfied. Aesop talks about this like Victor is giving him a gift, and he wonders if Aesop may be just as lonely as him, on the inside. After all, he hasn't seen Aesop so much as brush up against another person since he arrived. He hopes that maybe Aesop can feel the same sense of contentment he does, in this moment.

He hums a little, deciding on talking again, through sleepy words, "I'm glad... t-that... you l-love me... It's been so long since..." He had missed this so badly. That was the one reason he wanted to ever go back to where he was.

He definitely had the embrace with Frederick yesterday, but it felt more... Professional. Like a consolation. Here, they can melt and explore and drift as they please. Here, there's hands tracing spirals into his head on the back of his neck.

Here he can give Aesop praises without thinking because his brain never quite reaches his mouth to give him common sense, and he just wants to tell Aesop everything in his emptying mind right now. It's wonderful, to be completely entranced by somebody so sweet to him.

"i-i adore you... S-so much...."

[demaury]

Maxence as Will in Grand Hôtel (Ep. 03 & 04)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Prisoner of Circumstance

Continuation to Seeds of Rebellion and The Victor's March

Warnings: dark themes such as noncon and violence.

Orchan is an ancient fort, refortified in the last century by the king's father a generation ago. You've never entered the grounds until that day, riding past only in your journeys to the capital or another hold. The stone walls hide a castle still mostly built of wood, indomitable despite its material.

The party disperses quickly, chaotically, as you're taken down from the horse, hands still bound, muscles wrought from the ride.

The king smirks in your direction before he turns to another lord and Arthur tugs you away by the rope. Like a mule or a dog, you follow him.

"You've your father's grit," he chuckles as he winds through the labyrinthine corridors, no doubt a secondary tactic of protection, "didn't last though, he confessed like the coward he was."

"Your highness," you address him as prince.

"A man with no sons," he scoffs, "such high hopes for a lord without heir."

"Foolish, your highness," you agree.

He grumbles as he fails to goad you. He scratches his brow and yanks the rope taut so you stumble.

"'urry up, I need a drink," he snarls.

You do as he bids, without much choice as he drags you by your wrists. He approaches an open door as a servant emerges with a sweaty brow and crooked cap.

"All done?" Arthur asks galely.

"Yes, my prince," she bows her head, a flush of rose coming to her cheeks.

"In," he shoves you as the maid steps away, but he stops her with a tut, "you, fetch ale to my chamber and await me there."

"Yes, your highness," she squeaks, she's young. He smacks her bottom through her skirts as she scurries off and you face him in disgust.

"Get on," he orders and pushes you through the door, spinning you back to him as he seizes the rope at your wrist, "don't you worry for me, lady, my brother will give you true grief."

He unsheathes his knife and cuts the rope, gathering it with another bitter mutter. You watch him dully as he reaches for the door and pulls it shut between you, the latch falling into place on the other side.

"Guard!" You hear his holler through the wood.

You turn away and consider the room. Nothing peculiar or particular. A bed, a chest, a bench by the window, fireplace already burning. You pace and twiddle your fingers.

You're sad for your parents but not terribly. They acted treasonously and you would live to see the consequence. They plotted, even beyond your purview, so your mourning is tinted as much by resent as despair.

You go to the window as dusk drapes over the yard in shadows. You can hear distant voices below and the nicker of horses. All the world seems unchanged but you.

The latch alerts you to the king's arrival. You face him and bow. He laughs, a short crackle in his throat, and sighs as he puts his gauntlets on the wooden table against the wall. You straighten and watch him. He raises his brows as he pulls off his jacket and unveils the mail beneath.

"Let us agree this day has been long and we should wish to end it without further difficulty," he warns as he groans and heaves the metal links over his head, "this doesn't need to be a struggle, lady."

You swallow, the heat of his suggestion nestling along your nape. Palms rub together in nervous dread.

"My laces…" you can hardly muster a whisper and clear your throat, "my laces, I usually have a maid–"

"Here," he waves you forward as his tunic hang wide across the top of his chest, his dark locks oily with sweat and dust.

You march to him, as if you’re walking to a block and he the axman. He tilts his head and turns you by your arm as you near. He easily unknots the laces and pulls loose the crisscross down your back.

He taps his knuckles on your shoulder and you step away. You keep your chin down as the slack dress slumps down your arms and you urge it down to your waist. You free yourself of the sleeves and let the fabric heap at your feet.

You take the dress and fold it over the chest as the cool air cut through your shift. You peel off your slippers and put them atop. Along your peripheral, the king's figure continues to move.

"That too," he says and you glance over at him as he sits to untie his boots, only those and his breeches remaining. His muscles cords beneath his pale skin and bulges as he tugs at his laces.

You look away and let your hands drift down the thin linen. You untie the neck and inhale deeply, bracing yourself. You close your eyes as you swoop your shift over your head and let the breath out.

"On the bed, lady," the king demands, "no use delaying further… my impatience can lend itself to cruelty."

[themousefromfantasyland]

THE GIRL WHO PRETENDED TO BE A BOY

What about a transgender fairy tale for Pride Month?

This variant is a English translation by Andrew Lang of a Romanian fairy tale called Ileana Sînziana. In this long, but fun tale, a powerful new Emperor wants in his court all the male heirs of the Emperors who he already dethroned. Knowing her father doesn't have any male heir, the youngest daughter of an old Emperor decides to dress as man and goes out in a journey.

In the end she is "cursed" to be a man, becoming Făt-Frumos, here translated as Fet-Fruners, a stock Romanian character in folk tales, a knight hero similar to Prince Charming. Făt-Frumos can be roughly translated as handsome infant or child or handsome boy.

Once upon a time there lived an emperor who was a great conqueror, and reigned over more countries than anyone in the world. And whenever he subdued a fresh kingdom, he only granted peace on condition that the king should deliver him one of his sons for ten years' service.

Now on the borders of his kingdom lay a country whose emperor was as brave as his neighbour, and as long as he was young he was the victor in every war. But as years passed away, his head grew weary of making plans of campaign, and his people wanted to stay at home and till their fields, and at last he too felt that he must do homage to the other emperor.

One thing, however, held him back from this step which day by day he saw more clearly was the only one possible. His new overlord would demand the service of one of his sons. And the old emperor had no son; only three daughters.

Look on which side he would, nothing but ruin seemed to lie before him, and he became so gloomy, that his daughters were frightened, and did everything they could think of to cheer him up, but all to no purpose.

At length one day when they were at dinner, the eldest of the three summoned up all her courage and said to her father:

'What secret grief is troubling you? Are your subjects discontented? or have we given you cause for displeasure? To smooth away your wrinkles, we would gladly shed our blood, for our lives are bound up in yours; and this you know.'

'My daughter,' answered the emperor, 'what you say is true. Never have you given me one moment's pain. Yet now you cannot help me. Ah! why is not one of you a boy!'

'I don't understand,' she answered in surprise. 'Tell us what is wrong: and though we are not boys, we are not quite useless!'

'But what can you do, my dear children? Spin, sew, and weave—that is all your learning. Only a warrior can deliver me now, a young giant who is strong to wield the battle-axe: whose sword deals deadly blows.'

'But WHY do you need a son so much at present? Tell us all about it! It will not make matters worse if we know!'

'Listen then, my daughters, and learn the reason of my sorrow. You have heard that as long as I was young no man ever brought an army against me without it costing him dear. But the years have chilled my blood and drunk my strength. And now the deer can roam the forest, my arrows will never pierce his heart; strange soldiers will set fire to my houses and water their horses at my wells, and my arm cannot hinder them. No, my day is past, and the time has come when I too must bow my head under the yoke of my foe! But who is to give him the ten years' service that is part of the price which the vanquished must pay?'

'_I_ will,' cried the eldest girl, springing to her feet. But her father only shook his head sadly.

'Never will I bring shame upon you,' urged the girl. 'Let me go. Am I not a princess, and the daughter of an emperor?'

'Go then!' he said.

The brave girl's heart almost stopped beating from joy, as she set about her preparations. She was not still for a single moment, but danced about the house, turning chests and wardrobes upside down. She set aside enough things for a whole year—dresses embroidered with gold and precious stones, and a great store of provisions. And she chose the most spirited horse in the stable, with eyes of flame, and a coat of shining silver.

When her father saw her mounted and curvetting about the court, he gave her much wise advice, as to how she was to behave like the young man she appeared to be, and also how to behave as the girl she really was. Then he gave her his blessing, and she touched her horse with the spur.

The silver armour of herself and her steed dazzled the eyes of the people as she darted past. She was soon out of sight, and if after a few miles she had not pulled up to allow her escort to join her, the rest of the journey would have been performed alone.

But though none of his daughters were aware of the fact, the old emperor was a magician, and had laid his plans accordingly. He managed, unseen, to overtake his daughter, and throw a bridge of copper over a stream which she would have to cross. Then, changing himself into a wolf, he lay down under one of the arches, and waited.

He had chosen his time well, and in about half an hour the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard. His feet were almost on the bridge, when a big grey wolf with grinning teeth appeared before the princess. With a deep growl that froze the blood, he drew himself up, and prepared to spring.

The appearance of the wolf was so sudden and so unexpected, that the girl was almost paralysed, and never even dreamt of flight, till the horse leaped violently to one side. Then she turned him round, and urging him to his fullest speed, never drew rein till she saw the gates of the palace rising before her.

The old emperor, who had got back long since, came to the door to meet her, and touching her shining armour, he said, 'Did I not tell you, my child, that flies do not make honey?'

The days passed on, and one morning the second princess implored her father to allow her to try the adventure in which her sister had made such a failure. He listened unwillingly, feeling sure it was no use, but she begged so hard that in the end he consented, and having chosen her arms, she rode away.

But though, unlike her sister, she was quite prepared for the appearance of the wolf when she reached the copper bridge, she showed no greater courage, and galloped home as fast as her horse could carry her. On the steps of the castle her father was standing, and as still trembling with fright she knelt at his feet, he said gently, 'Did I not tell you, my child, that every bird is not caught in a net?'

The three girls stayed quietly in the palace for a little while, embroidering, spinning, weaving, and tending their birds and flowers, when early one morning, the youngest princess entered the door of the emperor's private apartments. 'My father, it is my turn now. Perhaps I shall get the better of that wolf!'

'What, do you think you are braver than your sisters, vain little one? You who have hardly left your long clothes behind you!' but she did not mind being laughed at, and answered,

'For your sake, father, I would cut the devil himself into small bits, or even become a devil myself. I think I shall succeed, but if I fail, I shall come home without more shame than my sisters.'

Still the emperor hesitated, but the girl petted and coaxed him till at last he said,

'Well, well, if you must go, you must. It remains to be seen what I shall get by it, except perhaps a good laugh when I see you come back with your head bent and your eyes on the ground.'

'He laughs best who laughs last,' said the princess.

Happy at having got her way, the princess decided that the first thing to be done was to find some old white-haired boyard, whose advice she could trust, and then to be very careful in choosing her horse. So she went straight to the stables where the most beautiful horses in the empire were feeding in the stalls, but none of them seemed quite what she wanted. Almost in despair she reached the last box of all, which was occupied by her father's ancient war-horse, old and worn like himself, stretched sadly out on the straw.

The girl's eyes filled with tears, and she stood gazing at him. The horse lifted his head, gave a little neigh, and said softly, 'You look gentle and pitiful, but I know it is your love for your father which makes you tender to me. Ah, what a warrior he was, and what good times we shared together! But now I too have grown old, and my master has forgotten me, and there is no reason to care whether my coat is dull or shining. Yet, it is not too late, and if I were properly tended, in a week I could vie with any horse in the stables!'

'And how should you be tended?' asked the girl.

'I must be rubbed down morning and evening with rain water, my barley must be boiled in milk, because of my bad teeth, and my feet must be washed in oil.'

'I should like to try the treatment, as you might help me in carrying out my scheme.'

'Try it then, mistress, and I promise you will never repent.'

So in a week's time the horse woke up one morning with a sudden shiver through all his limbs; and when it had passed away, he found his skin shining like a mirror, his body as fat as a water melon, his movement light as a chamois.

Then looking at the princess who had come early to the stable, he said joyfully,

'May success await on the steps of my master's daughter, for she has given me back my life. Tell me what I can do for you, princess, and I will do it.'

'I want to go to the emperor who is our over-lord, and I have no one to advise me. Which of all the white-headed boyards shall I choose as counsellor?'

'If you have me, you need no one else: I will serve you as I served your father, if you will only listen to what I say.'

'I will listen to everything. Can you start in three days?'

'This moment, if you like,' said the horse.

The preparations of the emperor's youngest daughter were much fewer and simpler than those of her sisters. They only consisted of some boy's clothes, a small quantity of linen and food, and a little money in case of necessity. Then she bade farewell to her father, and rode away.

A day's journey from the palace, she reached the copper bridge, but before they came in sight of it, the horse, who was a magician, had warned her of the means her father would take to prove her courage.

Still in spite of his warning she trembled all over when a huge wolf, as thin as if he had fasted for a month, with claws like saws, and mouth as wide as an oven, bounded howling towards her. For a moment her heart failed her, but the next, touching the horse lightly with her spur, she drew her sword from its sheath, ready to separate the wolf's head from its body at a single blow.

The beast saw the sword, and shrank back, which was the best thing it could do, as now the girl's blood was up, and the light of battle in her eyes. Then without looking round, she rode across the bridge.

The emperor, proud of this first victory, took a short cut, and waited for her at the end of another day's journey, close to a river, over which he threw a bridge of silver. And this time he took the shape of a lion.

But the horse guessed this new danger and told the princess how to escape it. But it is one thing to receive advice when we feel safe and comfortable, and quite another to be able to carry it out when some awful peril is threatening us. And if the wolf had made the girl quake with terror, it seemed like a lamb beside this dreadful lion.

At the sound of his roar the very trees quivered and his claws were so large that every one of them looked like a cutlass.

The breath of the princess came and went, and her feet rattled in the stirrups. Suddenly the remembrance flashed across her of the wolf whom she had put to flight, and waving her sword, she rushed so violently on the lion that he had barely time to spring on one side, so as to avoid the blow. Then, like a flash, she crossed this bridge also.

Now during her whole life, the princess had been so carefully brought up, that she had never left the gardens of the palace, so that the sight of the hills and valleys and tinkling streams, and the song of the larks and blackbirds, made her almost beside herself with wonder and delight. She longed to get down and bathe her face in the clear pools, and pick the brilliant flowers, but the horse said 'No,' and quickened his pace, neither turning to the right or the left.

'Warriors,' he told her, 'only rest when they have won the victory. You have still another battle to fight, and it is the hardest of all.'

This time it was neither a wolf nor a lion that was waiting for her at the end of the third day's journey, but a dragon with twelve heads, and a golden bridge behind it.

The princess rode up without seeing anything to frighten her, when a sudden puff of smoke and flame from beneath her feet, caused her to look down, and there was the horrible creature twisted and writhing, its twelve heads reared up as if to seize her between them.

The bridle fell from her hand: and the sword which she had just grasped slid back into its sheath, but the horse bade her fear nothing, and with a mighty effort she sat upright and spurred straight on the dragon.

The fight lasted an hour and the dragon pressed her hard. But in the end, by a well-directed side blow, she cut off one of the heads, and with a roar that seemed to rend the heavens in two, the dragon fell back on the ground, and rose as a man before her.

Although the horse had informed the princess the dragon was really her own father, the girl had hardly believed him, and stared in amazement at the transformation. But he flung his arms round her and pressed her to his heart saying, 'Now I see that you are as brave as the bravest, and as wise as the wisest. You have chosen the right horse, for without his help you would have returned with a bent head and downcast eyes. You have filled me with the hope that you may carry out the task you have undertaken, but be careful to forget none of my counsels, and above all to listen to those of your horse.'

When he had done speaking, the princess knelt down to receive his blessing, and they went their different ways.

The princess rode on and on, till at last she came to the mountains which hold up the roof of the world. There she met two Genii who had been fighting fiercely for two years, without one having got the least advantage over the other. Seeing what they took to be a young man seeking adventures, one of the combatants called out, 'Fet-Fruners! deliver me from my enemy, and I will give you the horn that can be heard the distance of a three days' journey;' while the other cried, 'Fet-Fruners! help me to conquer this pagan thief, and you shall have my horse, Sunlight.'

Before answering, the princess consulted her own horse as to which offer she should accept, and he advised her to side with the genius who was master of Sunlight, his own younger brother, and still more active than himself.

So the girl at once attacked the other genius, and soon clove his skull; then the one who was left victor begged her to come back with him to his house and he would hand her over Sunlight, as he had promised.

The mother of the genius was rejoiced to see her son return safe and sound, and prepared her best room for the princess, who, after so much fatigue, needed rest badly. But the girl declared that she must first make her horse comfortable in his stable; but this was really only an excuse, as she wanted to ask his advice on several matters.

But the old woman had suspected from the very first that the boy who had come to the rescue of her son was a girl in disguise, and told the genius that she was exactly the wife he needed. The genius scoffed, and inquired what female hand could ever wield a sabre like that; but, in spite of his sneers, his mother persisted, and as a proof of what she said, laid at night on each of their pillows a handful of magic flowers, that fade at the touch of man, but remain eternally fresh in the fingers of a woman.

It was very clever of her, but unluckily the horse had warned the princess what to expect, and when the house was silent, she stole very softly to the genius's room, and exchanged his faded flowers for those she held. Then she crept back to her own bed and fell fast asleep.

At break of day, the old woman ran to see her son, and found, as she knew she would, a bunch of dead flowers in his hand. She next passed on to the bedside of the princess, who still lay asleep grasping the withered flowers. But she did not believe any the more that her guest was a man, and so she told her son. So they put their heads together and laid another trap for her.

After breakfast the genius gave his arm to his guest, and asked her to come with him into the garden. For some time they walked about looking at the flowers, the genius all the while pressing her to pick any she fancied. But the princess, suspecting a trap, inquired roughly why they were wasting the precious hours in the garden, when, as men, they should be in the stables looking after their horses. Then the genius told his mother that she was quite wrong, and his deliverer was certainly a man. But the old woman was not convinced for all that.

She would try once more she said, and her son must lead his visitor into the armoury, where hung every kind of weapon used all over the world—some plain and bare, others ornamented with precious stones—and beg her to make choice of one of them. The princess looked at them closely, and felt the edges and points of their blades, then she hung at her belt an old sword with a curved blade, that would have done credit to an ancient warrior. After this she informed the genius that she would start early next day and take Sunlight with her.

And there was nothing for the mother to do but to submit, though she still stuck to her own opinion.

The princess mounted Sunlight, and touched him with her spur, when the old horse, who was galloping at her side, suddenly said:

'Up to this time, mistress, you have obeyed my counsels and all has gone well. Listen to me once more, and do what I tell you. I am old, and—now that there is someone to take my place, I will confess it—I am afraid that my strength is not equal to the task that lies before me. Give me leave, therefore, to return home, and do you continue your journey under the care of my brother. Put your faith in him as you put it in me, and you will never repent. Wisdom has come early to Sunlight.'

'Yes, my old comrade, you have served me well; and it is only through your help that up to now I have been victorious. So grieved though I am to say farewell, I will obey you yet once more, and will listen to your brother as I would to yourself. Only, I must have a proof that he loves me as well as you do.'

'How should I not love you?' answered Sunlight; 'how should I not be proud to serve a warrior such as you? Trust me, mistress, and you shall never regret the absence of my brother. I know there will be difficulties in our path, but we will face them together.'

Then, with tears in her eyes, the princess took leave of her old horse, who galloped back to her father.

She had ridden only a few miles further, when she saw a golden curl lying on the road before her. Checking her horse, she asked whether it would be better to take it or let it lie.

'If you take it,' said Sunlight, 'you will repent, and if you don't, you will repent too: so take it.' On this the girl dismounted, and picking up the curl, wound it round her neck for safety.

They passed by hills, they passed by mountains, they passed through valleys, leaving behind them thick forests, and fields covered with flowers; and at length they reached the court of the over-lord.

He was sitting on his throne, surrounded by the sons of the other emperors, who served him as pages. These youths came forward to greet their new companion, and wondered why they felt so attracted towards him.

[Quick pause. This is a very funny trope that I keep finding in very old cross-dressing stories. The male characters find themselves mysteriously attracted to the female character pretending to be male. Think of Li Shang from Mulan.]

However, there was no time for talking and concealing her fright.

The princess was led straight up to the throne, and explained, in a low voice, the reason of her coming. The emperor received her kindly, and declared himself fortunate at finding a vassal so brave and so charming, and begged the princess to remain in attendance on his person.

She was, however, very careful in her behaviour towards the other pages, whose way of life did not please her. One day, however, she had been amusing herself by making sweetmeats, when two of the young princes looked in to pay her a visit. She offered them some of the food which was already on the table, and they thought it so delicious that they even licked their fingers so as not to lose a morsel. Of course they did not keep the news of their discovery to themselves, but told all their companions that they had just been enjoying the best supper they had had since they were born. And from that moment the princess was left no peace, till she had promised to cook them all a dinner.

Now it happened that, on the very day fixed, all the cooks in the palace became intoxicated, and there was no one to make up the fire.

When the pages heard of this shocking state of things, they went to their companion and implored her to come to the rescue.

The princess was fond of cooking, and was, besides, very good-natured; so she put on an apron and went down to the kitchen without delay. When the dinner was placed before the emperor he found it so nice that he ate much more than was good for him. The next morning, as soon as he woke, he sent for his head cook, and told him to send up the same dishes as before. The cook, seized with fright at this command, which he knew he could not fulfil, fell on his knees, and confessed the truth.

The emperor was so astonished that he forgot to scold, and while he was thinking over the matter, some of his pages came in and said that their new companion had been heard to boast that he knew where Iliane was to be found—the celebrated Iliane of the song which begins:

'Golden Hair. The fields are green,'

And that to their certain knowledge he had a curl of her hair in his possession.

When he heard that, the emperor desired the page to be brought before him, and, as soon as the princess obeyed his summons, he said to her abruptly:

'Fet-Fruners, you have hidden from me the fact that you knew the golden-haired Iliane! Why did you do this? for I have treated you more kindly than all my other pages.'

Then, after making the princess show him the golden curl which she wore round her neck, he added: 'Listen to me; unless by some means or other you bring me the owner of this lock, I will have your head cut off in the place where you stand. Now go!'

In vain the poor girl tried to explain how the lock of hair came into her possession; the emperor would listen to nothing, and, bowing low, she left his presence and went to consult Sunlight what she was to do.

At his first words she brightened up. 'Do not be afraid, mistress; only last night my brother appeared to me in a dream and told me that a genius had carried off Iliane, whose hair you picked up on the road. But Iliane declares that, before she marries her captor, he must bring her, as a present, the whole stud of mares which belong to her. The genius, half crazy with love, thinks of nothing night and day but how this can be done, and meanwhile she is quite safe in the island swamps of the sea. Go back to the emperor and ask him for twenty ships filled with precious merchandise. The rest you shall know by-and-by.'

On hearing this advice, the princess went at once into the emperor's presence.

'May a long life be yours, O Sovereign all mighty!' said she. 'I have come to tell you that I can do as you command if you will give me twenty ships, and load them with the most precious wares in your kingdom.'

'You shall have all that I possess if you will bring me the golden-haired Iliane,' said the emperor.

The ships were soon ready, and the princess entered the largest and finest, with Sunlight at her side. Then the sails were spread and the voyage began.

For seven weeks the wind blew them straight towards the west, and early one morning they caught sight of the island swamps of the sea.

They cast anchor in a little bay, and the princess made haste to disembark with Sunlight, but, before leaving the ship, she tied to her belt a pair of tiny gold slippers, adorned with precious stones. Then mounting Sunlight, she rode about till she came to several palaces, built on hinges, so that they could always turn towards the sun.

The most splendid of these was guarded by three slaves, whose greedy eyes were caught by the glistening gold of the slippers. They hastened up to the owner of these treasures, and inquired who he was. 'A merchant,' replied the princess, 'who had somehow missed his road, and lost himself among the island swamps of the sea.'

Not knowing if it was proper to receive him or not, the slaves returned to their mistress and told her all they had seen, but not before she had caught sight of the merchant from the roof of her palace. Luckily her gaoler was away, always trying to catch the stud of mares, so for the moment she was free and alone.

The slaves told their tale so well that their mistress insisted on going down to the shore and seeing the beautiful slippers for herself. They were even lovelier than she expected, and when the merchant besought her to come on board, and inspect some that he thought were finer still, her curiosity was too great to refuse, and she went.

Once on board ship, she was so busy turning over all the precious things stored there, that she never knew that the sails were spread, and that they were flying along with the wind behind them; and when she did know, she rejoiced in her heart, though she pretended to weep and lament at being carried captive a second time. Thus they arrived at the court of the emperor.

They were just about to land, when the mother of the genius stood before them. She had learnt that Iliane had fled from her prison in company with a merchant, and, as her son was absent, had come herself in pursuit. Striding over the blue waters, hopping from wave to wave, one foot reaching to heaven, and the other planted in the foam, she was close at their heels, breathing fire and flame, when they stepped on shore from the ship. One glance told Iliane who the horrible old woman was, and she whispered hastily to her companion. Without saying a word, the princess swung her into Sunlight's saddle, and leaping up behind her, they were off like a flash.

It was not till they drew near the town that the princess stooped and asked Sunlight what they should do. 'Put your hand into my left ear,' said he, 'and take out a sharp stone, which you must throw behind you.'

The princess did as she was told, and a huge mountain sprang up behind them. The mother of the genius began to climb up it, and though they galloped quickly, she was quicker still.

They heard her coming, faster, faster; and again the princess stooped to ask what was to be done now. 'Put your hand into my right ear,' said the horse, 'and throw the brush you will find there behind you.' The princess did so, and a great forest sprang up behind them, and, so thick were its leaves, that even a wren could not get through. But the old woman seized hold of the branches and flung herself like a monkey from one to the others, and always she drew nearer—always, always—till their hair was singed by the flames of her mouth.

Then, in despair, the princess again bent down and asked if there was nothing more to be done, and Sunlight replied 'Quick, quick, take off the betrothal ring on the finger of Iliane and throw it behind you.'

This time there sprang up a great tower of stone, smooth as ivory, hard as steel, which reached up to heaven itself. And the mother of the genius gave a howl of rage, knowing that she could neither climb it nor get through it. But she was not beaten yet, and gathering herself together, she made a prodigious leap, which landed her on the top of the tower, right in the middle of Iliane's ring which lay there, and held her tight. Only her claws could be seen grasping the battlements.

All that could be done the old witch did; but the fire that poured from her mouth never reached the fugitives, though it laid waste the country a hundred miles round the tower, like the flames of a volcano. Then, with one last effort to free herself, her hands gave way, and, falling down to the bottom of the tower, she was broken in pieces.

When the flying princess saw what had happened she rode back to the spot, as Sunlight counselled her, and placed her finger on the top of the tower, which was gradually shrinking into the earth. In an instant the tower had vanished as if it had never been, and in its place was the finger of the princess with a ring round it.

The emperor received Iliane with all the respect that was due to her, and fell in love at first sight besides.

But this did not seem to please Iliane, whose face was sad as she walked about the palace or gardens, wondering how it was that, while other girls did as they liked, she was always in the power of someone whom she hated.

So when the emperor asked her to share his throne Iliane answered:

'Noble Sovereign, I may not think of marriage till my stud of horses has been brought me, with their trappings all complete.'

When he heard this, the emperor once more sent for Fet-Fruners, and said:

'Fet-Fruners, fetch me instantly the stud of mares, with their trappings all complete. If not, your head shall pay the forfeit.'

'Mighty Emperor, I kiss your hands! I have but just returned from doing your bidding, and, behold, you send me on another mission, and stake my head on its fulfilment, when your court is full of valiant young men, pining to win their spurs. They say you are a just man; then why not entrust this quest to one of them? Where am I to seek these mares that I am to bring you?'

'How do I know? They may be anywhere in heaven or earth; but, wherever they are, you will have to find them.'

The princess bowed and went to consult Sunlight. He listened while she told her tale, and then said:

'Fetch quickly nine buffalo skins; smear them well with tar, and lay them on my back. Do not fear; you will succeed in this also; but, in the end, the emperor's desires will be his undoing.'

The buffalo skins were soon got, and the princess started off with Sunlight. The way was long and difficult, but at length they reached the place where the mares were grazing. Here the genius who had carried off Iliane was wandering about, trying to discover how to capture them, all the while believing that Iliane was safe in the palace where he had left her.

As soon as she caught sight of him, the princess went up and told him that Iliane had escaped, and that his mother, in her efforts to recapture her, had died of rage. At this news a blind fury took possession of the genius, and he rushed madly upon the princess, who awaited his onslaught with perfect calmness. As he came on, with his sabre lifted high in the air, Sunlight bounded right over his head, so that the sword fell harmless. And when in her turn the princess prepared to strike, the horse sank upon his knees, so that the blade pierced the genius's thigh.

The fight was so fierce that it seemed as if the earth would give way under them, and for twenty miles round the beasts in the forests fled to their caves for shelter. At last, when her strength was almost gone, the genius lowered his sword for an instant. The princess saw her chance, and, with one swoop of her arm, severed her enemy's head from his body. Still trembling from the long struggle, she turned away, and went to the meadow where the stud were feeding.

By the advice of Sunlight, she took care not to let them see her, and climbed a thick tree, where she could see and hear without being seen herself. Then he neighed, and the mares came galloping up, eager to see the new comer—all but one horse, who did not like strangers, and thought they were very well as they were. As Sunlight stood his ground, well pleased with the attention paid him, this sulky creature suddenly advanced to the charge, and bit so violently that had it not been for the nine buffalo skins Sunlight's last moment would have come. When the fight was ended, the buffalo skins were in ribbons, and the beaten animal writhing with pain on the grass.

Nothing now remained to be done but to drive the whole stud to the emperor's court. So the princess came down from the tree and mounted Sunlight, while the stud followed meekly after, the wounded horse bringing up the rear. On reaching the palace, she drove them into a yard, and went to inform the emperor of her arrival.

The news was told at once to Iliane, who ran down directly and called them to her one by one, each mare by its name. And at the first sight of her the wounded animal shook itself quickly, and in a moment its wounds were healed, and there was not even a mark on its glossy skin.

By this time the emperor, on hearing where she was, joined her in the yard, and at her request ordered the mares to be milked, so that both he and she might bathe in the milk and keep young for ever. But they would suffer no one to come near them, and the princess was commanded to perform this service also.

At this, the heart of the girl swelled within her. The hardest tasks were always given to her, and long before the two years were up, she would be worn out and useless. But while these thoughts passed through her mind, a fearful rain fell, such as no man remembered before, and rose till the mares were standing up to their knees in water. Then as suddenly it stopped, and, behold! the water was ice, which held the animals firmly in its grasp. And the princess's heart grew light again, and she sat down gaily to milk them, as if she had done it every morning of her life.

The love of the emperor for Iliane waxed greater day by day, but she paid no heed to him, and always had an excuse ready to put off their marriage. At length, when she had come to the end of everything she could think of, she said to him one day: 'Grant me, Sire, just one request more, and then I will really marry you; for you have waited patiently this long time.'

'My beautiful dove,' replied the emperor, 'both I and all I possess are yours, so ask your will, and you shall have it.'

'Get me, then,' she said, 'a flask of the holy water that is kept in a little church beyond the river Jordan, and I will be your wife.'

Then the emperor ordered Fet-Fruners to ride without delay to the river Jordan, and to bring back, at whatever cost, the holy water for Iliane.

'This, my mistress,' said Sunlight, when she was saddling him, 'is the last and most difficult of your tasks. But fear nothing, for the hour of the emperor has struck.'

So they started; and the horse, who was not a wizard for nothing, told the princess exactly where she was to look for the holy water.

'It stands,' he said, 'on the altar of a little church, and is guarded by a troop of nuns. They never sleep, night or day, but every now and then a hermit comes to visit them, and from him they learn certain things it is needful for them to know. When this happens, only one of the nuns remains on guard at a time, and if we are lucky enough to hit upon this moment, we may get hold of the vase at once; if not, we shall have to wait the arrival of the hermit, however long it may be; for there is no other means of obtaining the holy water.'

They came in sight of the church beyond the Jordan, and, to their great joy, beheld the hermit just arriving at the door. They could hear him calling the nuns around him, and saw them settle themselves under a tree, with the hermit in their midst—all but one, who remained on guard, as was the custom.

The hermit had a great deal to say, and the day was very hot, so the nun, tired of sitting by herself, lay down right across the threshold, and fell sound asleep.

Then Sunlight told the princess what she was to do, and the girl stepped softly over the sleeping nun, and crept like a cat along the dark aisle, feeling the wall with her fingers, lest she should fall over something and ruin it all by a noise. But she reached the altar in safety, and found the vase of holy water standing on it. This she thrust into her dress, and went back with the same care as she came. With a bound she was in the saddle, and seizing the reins bade Sunlight take her home as fast as his legs could carry him.

The sound of the flying hoofs aroused the nun, who understood instantly that the precious treasure was stolen, and her shrieks were so loud and piercing that all the rest came flying to see what was the matter. The hermit followed at their heels, but seeing it was impossible to overtake the thief, he fell on his knees and called his most deadly curse down on her head, praying that if the thief was a man, he might become a woman; and if she was a woman, that she might become a man. In either case he thought that the punishment would be severe.

But punishments are things about which people do not always agree, and when the princess suddenly felt she was really the man she had pretended to be, she was delighted, and if the hermit had only been within reach she would have thanked him from her heart.

By the time she reached the emperor's court, Fet-Fruners looked a young man all over in the eyes of everyone; and even the mother of the genius would now have had her doubts set at rest. He drew forth the vase from his tunic and held it up to the emperor, saying: 'Mighty Sovereign, all hail! I have fulfilled this task also, and I hope it is the last you have for me; let another now take his turn.'

'I am content, Fet-Fruners,' replied the emperor, 'and when I am dead it is you who will sit upon my throne; for I have yet no son to come after me. But if one is given me, and my dearest wish is accomplished, then you shall be his right hand, and guide him with your counsels.'

But though the emperor was satisfied, Iliane was not, and she determined to revenge herself on the emperor for the dangers which he had caused Fet-Fruners to run. And as for the vase of holy water, she thought that, in common politeness, her suitor ought to have fetched it himself, which he could have done without any risk at all.

So she ordered the great bath to be filled with the milk of her mares, and begged the emperor to clothe himself in white robes, and enter the bath with her, an invitation he accepted with joy. Then, when both were standing with the milk reaching to their necks, she sent for the horse which had fought Sunlight, and made a secret sign to him. The horse understood what he was to do, and from one nostril he breathed fresh air over Iliane, and from the other, he snorted a burning wind which shrivelled up the emperor where he stood, leaving only a little heap of ashes.

His strange death, which no one could explain, made a great sensation throughout the country, and the funeral his people gave him was the most splendid ever known. When it was over, Iliane summoned Fet-Fruners before her, and addressed him thus:

'Fet-Fruners! it is you who brought me and have saved my life, and obeyed my wishes. It is you who gave me back my stud; you who killed the genius, and the old witch his mother; you who brought me the holy water. And you, and none other, shall be my husband.'

'Yes, I will marry you,' said the young man, with a voice almost as soft as when he was a princess. 'But know that in OUR house, it will be the cock who sings and not the hen!'

[littleoddwriter]

Naughty | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader | Smut

"And last but not least 10, Roman/black mask x male reader (nsf/w again cuz we be horny). I don't have a super specific scenario for this, but it could either be reader genuinely doesn't know who they're talking to and Roman decided to teach them a lesson

Or reader knows *exactly* who they are talking to but is fishing for punishment/a lesson/just being a brat. You're welcome to decide what the lesson is (ideas include idk man spanking, orgasm delay/denial, public (am I thinking of an opposite to the other horny fic we came up with? where reader is not a good boy? maybe,,,,), whatever you want really lol)" @iscariot-rising​

summary; You’re in a mood and seek punishment from Roman to get out of your head for a bit. 

notes; KINKS: Daddy!Kink; Spanking; Sexual Punishment; Consensual, but neither safe nor sane tbh; Coming basically untouched; Slight exhibitionism. Male!Reader; PWP; Lemon; Smut; Using sexual punishment to stop feeling bad/thinking.

Having woken up after an awful night and feeling your mood decline with every thought that tumbled through your brain, you were feeling that need for Roman to put you in your place and make you lose every train of thought possible. Usually a good punishment would get you out of your head and that weird mood, because no doubt it would only get progressively worse the more you dwelled on it. Roman wouldn't punish you if you asked for it, though. He wanted you to have earned it. Fine by you. You would make sure you've earned it, alright.

Roman was downstairs at the club, which wasn't even due to open for several more hours. So you went and joined him there, seeing to whatever he was doing.

When you reached downstairs, you saw a couple of his men mopping the floor. It smelled awfully like bleach. It assaulted your nose for a moment, as you scrunched your face up in reaction to it.

Side-stepping the working men, you went further into the club's area and saw Roman sitting in a booth with Zsasz, cackling about something. There was some blood on Victor's face. That would explain what they've been doing then, and possibly even what they were laughing about.

When Roman finally noticed you coming closer, he sobered up a little at first, then a wide grin spread on his face. It still had some sadistic, sinister touch to it, but for the most part it was charming, happy even.

"Look at you, baby! What are you doing down here, hm?" He exclaimed, still grinning, as Zsasz looked at you curiously.

You sat down next to Roman and playfully smiled up at him. "Oh, you know, I got a little bored all by myself and wanted to see what you were doing."

"Did you now? And haven't I told you not to come downstairs when I'm busy here outside of business hours, baby?" His tone already took on a dangerous edge; so going down here despite knowing you weren't allowed to did pay off. Good.

"Ah, well, I might have forgotten, sorry," you said, not sounding sorry at all.

Roman hummed, his grin slowly vanishing from his face.

"You know I don't like it when my orders aren't being followed," he rasped.

Shivering, you bit your lower lip and grinned cheekily.

"Didn't know that applied to me as well, Daddy."

"Hmmm, you're just being a little shit now, sweet boy, aren’t you? What is it?"

"I'm not! It's nothing, Daddy, I promise! What should it be?" You said, playing up the part of being completely oblivious.

"Do you just act stupid or are you really it?" He rasped.

By then, you knew he had caught on, probably even knowing that you did it on purpose; but his quick temper often got the better of him when you played your cards right. Like right now.

"Now, now, Daddy! That's rude, isn't it? But that's to be expected from you."

You knew that what you just said would make his blood boil, it might have hurt him a little, too, but you were willing to pay that price right now.

Clenching his fists, he fixed you with a fierce glare. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

"Of course I do, Daddy! But y'know, sometimes you really can be a little rude."

"Is that so? Do you hear that Zsasz?"

Zsasz nodded, "I think you should teach him a lesson, Boss."

You were sure that Victor wasn't talking about sexual punishment like you were aiming for, but rather peeling your mug off because he wanted Roman to himself.

"Yes, I believe you're right, I should. Would you be so kind and leave us alone then, Victor?" Roman said, looking at you intently.

Disappointment was clear in Victor's expression, but he got up without another word and left the two of you alone in the club, as the other staff had left by that point, too.

Roman nudged you, "C'mon, over my lap. Now."

Fucking finally!

Swallowing thickly, you shifted and leaned over his legs and laid face-down on his thighs, your chest and stomach pressing against them, while your ass was up for him to do whatever he liked with. He rubbed his gloved hand over your still clothed ass cheeks, seemingly admiring them.

"Count," was his only, huskily rasped, warning before he lifted his hand and let it come down on your right ass cheek, hard.

You yelped and moaned out a "One".

Then again. "Two."

Again. It felt harder. "Three."

This continued on until you reached spank number ten.

Because then, he reached under you and unbuttoned your pants, sliding them down your hips, over your straining erection, and over your butt, situating them right where thighs met cheeks. Your bottom already felt so fucking raw. Roman's spankings were always forceful. As much as he looked like he never lifted a finger on his own, he actually worked out, and it showed in his strength.

You've been hard and aching for the past three spanks already and you didn't know how many he's planned for you to receive. You might come practically untouched, depending on it, because your cock kept rubbing against the cushion beneath you and his thigh. It was driving you crazy before, when you were still clothed, and now, with your dick bared, it would only be so much worse.

All those thoughts were ripped from your mind, as his leather-clad hand came back down on your bare rump again, alternating between the left and right cheek and where he hit. It was relentless.

By the twenty-fith spank, your counting was barely intelligible anymore, as it was caught between shouts, moans and dry sobs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you figured that his hand must have gone numb by that point, but he kept spanking you. You could feel his hard cock against your stomach, though. So as unaffected as he seemed by all of this, he wasn't it entirely.

At the fiftieth hit, you couldn't control yourself anymore and came all over his thigh and the booth's cushions, sobbing and moaning pitifully, as tears streamed down your red face.

He stopped for a moment, rubbing over your cheeks soothingly, although it only made them burn more.

"Tell Daddy how sorry you are for disrespecting him and for coming unprompted all over him. C'mon," he rasped, his voice even deeper than before.

It took you a moment to even register what he's said. You blinked rapidly, trying to come back to the now. You felt so floaty.

"Sorry, Daddy." It was a quiet, unintelligible mumble.

"I didn't quite hear you there, sweet cheeks. Try again." To underline what he just said, he spanked you twice on each cheek again.

Obediently, you slurred the numbers. He paused again.

"Daddy, I- I'm sorry. 'm so sorry," you mumbled a little louder, your voice shaking.

"'Kay then," he whispered.

Roman then lifted his hand off your ass and helped you to sit up. You were so out of it that you just barely registered the pain it caused to sit.

"Ew, you've made a fucking mess of my suit pants. Ugh," you could faintly hear him complain.

A moment later he had gotten up apparently, as you felt his arms around you. One around your back, under you arms and gripping onto your side, and the other one under your thighs. Then he lifted you up, bridal style.

"Let's get you upstairs and taken care of, my little prince."

Completely out of it, you smiled and pressed your wet, red face into his chest. Your plan had worked out to the best possible result. 

[bxllafanficc]

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part one)

part two part three part four part five. Find the rest on; Masterlist

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Yuri's POV*

"Remind me once again why we're going to Japan? It's clear you'd never take us there just because you miss Victor and I know by experience that it's not because of his apprentice."

First class flight like usual. The view out the airplane window of the sparkling city at nighttime below them would stun anybody but at this point, Yuri has traveled so many times it's only become regular sights and the lights of the streets are only plain colored spots in a dark void to him these days. One thing he will never feel comfortable with though is staying in the same seat for hours on end until the airplane arrives at its destination. His legs are itching from wanting to move around. He'll just have to jog it off back on the ground like every other trip in the past.

"You'll be spending some time with Yuuri Katsuki and Victor the following weeks to gain your fighting spirit back. You need to get back in touch with your emotions, remember?" Yakov slightly turned his posture towards the Russian skater beside him, folding his newspaper in half and putting it in his lap.

He only nodded with a slight hum. He could see Yakov's reasoning, some parts of it at least. He HAD been lacking in emotional performance ever since the new year began and it was time to get back into the mindset of winning yet another Grand Prix gold medal like last year. No, not last year. Last year's competition was cancelled after a minor pandemic spread through Russia and the nearby regions. In fear of the virus spreading, all competitions cancelled and larger crowded areas were forbidden to take place. Therefore Yuri's only been able to practice by himself and keeping himself fit for a possible competition next year. But a year of doing nothing can really change your spirit and afraid to admitting it to his coach, he's been missing several opportunities to hit the rink and stayed home watching anime or scrolled through social media instead.

But one thing he doesn't get is how Victor and Yuuri are gonna make him get his mindset in the right track again. He already won his first gold medal at his senior debut and he doubt that the Japanese skater will be in any better condition than Yuri's currently in right now. Pig-man must've been in a much worse state considering his boo Victor had to stay in Russia during the pandemic, unable to keep an eye on Yuuri's routines.

"Besides, there's a little surprise waiting for you where you'll be staying with the two of them. It better work out fine or else I'm out of ideas."

That caught his attention to say the least.

"Well if it's supposed to save me from the deep end then why be so secretive and hushy with it? Spill the news, Yakov."

The old man only grunted and picked up his newspaper once again and hid his face behind it. Well now he really wanted to know what it was. Clearly he would have to make some effort. Soon the article about a Russian charity event taking place this weekend got replaced with a clenched fist going straight through the back of the paper. Yuri expected some kind of reaction but Yakov only sighed and leaned back in his seat without even a flinch.

"It's no surprise if I tell you. I promised Victor to keep it a secret."

"Tell me."

"No."

Yuri groaned and folded his arms with a sour glare. The display in the ceiling told the traveler's that it was 10 minutes until landing so he gave up his attempts and let his eyes rest for a while. At least he would find out tomorrow, he assumed. It was 2am and he would be staying at a hotel close to the airport since it was too late to make rest of the trip in one day.

Yuri was out with the speed of a lightning bolt the second the plane doors opened. He sped past everyone before him and he didn't stop when he finally got outside. His feet carried him to run circles around the plane meanwhile he was waiting for Yakov to get out the normal way. It's a silly habit of his and he knows he looks stupid doing it but his coach has given him strict orders to not run away at one random direction like used to do at first. It would take like half an hour for him to be found once he took off, but only if he got lost.

"Yuri! Get over here!"

Well, there's his cue to get ready and head to the hotel. Finally he's able to get some sleep before he's forced to wake up early at dawn to head to Hot Springs and meet the two most annoying people in Japan.

...

He didn't even have time to eat breakfast. He overslept and got rushed to the cab with an angry Yakov behind him, newspaper folded tightly in his fist. The trip through the beautiful Japan would've been pleasant if Yuri hadn't dozed off every 10 seconds. He didn't get much sleep after all. He spent at least three hours thinking about the special surprise and raiding the free mini bar before he finally got to rest. At 8am he was woken up with banging on the door and now, at 10am, he was standing at the entrance of Hot Springs waiting for Yuuri's mom to announce their arrival. She hurried away somewhere with her usual bubbly happy self that Yuri had no idea how a person could be so... not moody all day long.

The place was as crowded with customers as last time and the two Russians were told to step inside to the more private parts of the building where the family lived along with Victor at the moment.

"Victor! How come my brand new lotion is used? You smelled a suspicious amount of peaches and wild berries at breakfast and there's no point denying it!" A fairly soft and modulated voice was heard from somewhere to the left where the private shower stalls were located. A couple seconds later a giggly Victor and Yuuri came through the direction of the living room and greeted Yuri with happy cheers. The slender white haired Russian caught Yakov in a bear hug, much to the old man's surprise. Yuuri extended his hand towards Yuri but Yuri didn't give any effort in taking it.

"Food. I'm starving."

Yuuri dropped his hand with a light blush but Victor pouted and let go of his former coach. Strong and clingy arms were suddenly wrapped around his chest and he couldn't breathe.

"So unpolite... Yuriooo we've missed you! Haven't you missed us?"

Yuri thrashed like a fish caught in a net and tried to hit the arms of the bastard trapping him. Yuuri joined in, only to get a kick in the hip. His stomach growled angrily and the endless void in his body didn't lighten up the experience a bit.

"Let go you old man! You too piglet!"

"I hoped you'd say it out loud but I know that deep down you've been missing us, Yuriii." Victor went to whisper in his ear with pouty lips but was swatted away by a backhand in his face. That finally caused him to let go and Yuri jumped out of reach for the two males.

"Hm... Or not." The expression he got from Victor was sad and pouty and the man earned a hand on his shoulder, put there by Yuuri. Yuri could only sigh and shake his head.

"Victor! Did you steal my shampoo too?! I will- Oh? What now?" Yuri turned around abruptly by the unfamiliar yet familiar voice behind him. His eyes widened.

The girl was standing to the left of the hall, seemingly coming from the shower. A curious hand rested against the wall beside her and her face was covered in a grey clay face mask, a toothbrush lazily hanging from the corner of her lips. Her (h/c) eyes glistened with mild shock along with her mouth hanging slightly open.

"You are early... Victor, you told me they would arrive at 1pm1!" She pointed a strict finger at the tall man who scratched the back of his head with a hesitant laugh. Her eyes narrowed and she grabbed her toothbrush. Because even if she was standing unprepared in front of two strangers, she would at least not forget to brush her teeth in the process, as you do.

Yuri might've considered it normal if it wasn't for that she was almost naked. Two towels were the only fabric hiding her, one wrapped around her dripping figure and the other tied up in her hair.

"Yeah, about that! I kind of mixed up the time of their arrival and your meeting with the press, that's, by the way now when I think of it, not actually cancelled but later today. Silly of me to forget, right?"

She eyed him as though her bullshit meter was ticking in the red zone and let out a huff. Yuri had to advert his gaze when it suddenly felt intruding to eye her the way he did. He also turned away because a light tint of pink was creeping up his cheeks.

"Right. Thanks for the early update. I appreciate it, really. I'll be with you again in 30 minutes. Don't wait up for me." And with that, she was gone. The silence of the men maintained for a few moments until Yuuri coughed with an awkward smile, his red cheeks still visible even after the girl had disappeared. 'It's a little weird to blush at your almost naked sister' he thought.

"So food, right? Mom is preparing pork cutlet bowls for you, Yurio, since she remembered how much you liked them last time-" He didn't have to say it twice. Yuri was off to the dining area before the man even finished saying 'pork cutlet bowl'.

[renee-writer]

Songs of An Outlander Chapter 8 Belief?

The air is filled with deafening silence. She looks between their shocked faces before burying her head in her hands. “Oh God! You don't believe me!”

“Give us a moment lass. It is a bit to take in all at once.” Brian stands and pours them all a shot of whisky. He presses hers into her hand. Jamie takes a fortifying drink and turns towards his love.

“I believe you Claire. I don’t completely understand it. Not yet. But there is a trust between us that allows me to believe what you say no matter how strange it is.” He saw her let out a deep sign of relief. Brian looks to his son. The love he has for the lass allows him to belief. A lifetime of auld tales does the same for him.

“Claire, did you wish to return to your time?” he asks.

“At first yes. That is where I was going to, or trying, the night of the gathering.” She says to Jamie. “But then there was Fergus and Jamie. This time started to feel like home. Much more then my own did. Frank, well he wished me just to be a wife and mum. I did ah, do want that.” A quick glance to Jamie and a blush, Brian sees with approval, “but I also want more. As strange as it seems, I am freer in this time. So, you do believe me?”

“Aye lass. I am a Highlander. We believe tales of water horses and silkies. Of~ ah aye. There is an auld tale. It is you and other travelers like you. Let's see it is ‘mise bean tighear na bhail’ n athain tha na sith air mo gh oid which means I am the lady of baile an athain the folk have stolen me again again.” Brain sang. It was a little of key but made Claire smile.

“I am so relieved. I thought you would think me mad.”

“Nae Claire, I ne' could. But, as you ken the future, can you tell us some of what will happen with Scotland?” He and Brian look intensely at her.

“Yes. It isn’t good news, I am afraid. There will be a rebellion in two years time. The clans, roused by Prince Charlie, will raise against England. They will loss and badly. The repercussions will devastate the clans and the way of life. The wearing of the tartan, the Gaelic language will both be banned. The Scot's will be raided. Anything valuable taken by the victors. It will be hard. Scotland will not be begin to recover for a hundred years when trouble with the colonies and Africa will keep England busy.”

“O Dhai!” They both reply.

“Is there anything to be done? Anyway to safe Lallybroch?” Brian asks.

“Most important is to stay out of it. They will be harshest to those involved. And,” she pulls of the gold ring and hands it to him. “Sell it. Have Jenny buy potatoes. Plant them in as many fields as she can spare. As a root vegetable, they will keep well and those that rot return to seed for replanting. Stock up on those things that last long and are easily hidden. “

“There is that old Priest hole, you recall da? Hidden in the woods. Does it still stand?”

“Aye it does. Would be a fine root cellar. Jenny ken's where it is. But Claire, are you sure? Tis' a huge thing?” He holds out the ring. She reaches and closes his hand around it.

“I am. It represents my past. Jamie and Fergus are may future.”

“Does that mean you wish?” he couldn’t complete it just looks at her with huge hope filled eyes.

“Why yes Jamie. I don’t just kiss anyone.”

“That was months ago. I wasn’t sure.” She turns to him and just presses her lips against him. Brian loudly clears his throat.

“James, don't you think you ought to formally asks to court the lass?”

He turns to his da with a blush. “Aye, da I seek your permission, as my father and laird to court Claire.”

Brian turns to a bemused Claire. She is charmed by the whole thing. “Claire will you accept my son's courtship?”

“I will. He is all I want outside my son.”

“Grand! I expect son that you will adopt the sweet lad?”

“Aye,” he looks to Claire who nods with a smile. “Aye. He is mine now. Towards just be making it official.”

“Good. Let me give you two some privacy.” He stands, bows to Claire, and slips away.

“Claire, I dinna ken. Was hopeful. I have loved from almost the first.”

“Really?”

“Aye,” He takes her hand, “When I saw you in that horrid cabin, I knew I wanted you,” he blushes but doesn't drop his eyes. “But, when you wept for Frank, in my arms at Castle Leoch, I knew I loved you. I dinna know what to do about it.”

“It was gradual for me. Little glances and touches. The way you helped with Fergus. The way you are with him. You were my friend, good friend, partner in raising Fergus. But now, I want you as my husband and Fergus, as well as any other children God sees fit to grant us, father. I do love you Jamie. With my whole heart.”

It is all he can do. He kisses her, lightly at first. She deepens it, running her tongue over his lips. He opens with a gasp. They are soon pressed together.

“About time.” They hear Suzette say,” I thought you two would never give in to the heat between you.”

Claire then hears Fergus fussing through the blood pounding in her ears. She sits up and reaches for him.

“He missed his mam or I wouldn’t have interrupted.”

“Thank you Suzette.” Jamie replies. If it wasn’t for the bairn, what would he have done? Claire takes Fergus, who sighs and snuggles against her.

“Someone is sleepy. Ready for a bedtime story then?”

“Claire, do the tales come from your time?”

“Yes. I will explain movies to you one day. But for now, the end of Snow White?”

“Aye.” She leans back against him, cradling Fergus. “Well, the woodsman couldn’t kill the young maid. He pretended to but sent her away. She wonders and wonders, finally getting so tired, she naps on the forest floor. The animals from the forest wake her and lead her to a little cottage. The door is open so she enters to find a true mess, clothing scattered about, dust everywhere, dirty dishes. Well, there is just one thing to do, she must see it righted. So, with the help of the forest creatures, she does. She is very tired after. She makes her way upstairs and finds seven tiny beds. The names over them were strange for the children she thought they belonged to. Dopey, Sneezy, Grumpy, and the like. She lays across them and immediately falls asleep. At the same time, seven dwarfs are returning home from work. The work in a mine where they free diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. As they travel home, they sing,’ Hi ho hi ho, it's home from work we go.’ Well they don't know they have a visitor until they enter the cottage and find it clean. They are right shocked to find Snow White across their beds.”

She stops when she hears a soft snore come from behind her. Fergus also lays asleep on her chest. She grins and carefully stands up. She carries the sleeping baby to his cradle. She then returns to Jamie. She covers him and then runs her hand across his cheek. She is rewarded with a smile that expands her heart.

[bangtancentricsblog]

Demon king Yoongi x Demoness queen Mc ft. baby maknae line

this baby is a whopping 1.7 k which I know isn’t a lot but it is when I write mostly baby stories! Um some warnings: mentions of miscarriage, infidelity, angst I guess but tbh idk. Jennie from BP cameos because she’d be a bad bitch lol I think that’s it

It was with a heavy heart that you made your way to the front door to the manor, though to your utter surprise you found that your children were there bags in hand. You’d been quick to close the distance placing your bag down as you crouched down to their height to better hear them.

“What are you doing here loves, it’s past your bedtime.” 

“Go you mama.” Jungkook said reaching up a signal for you to pick him up. He quickly snuggled into your neck, arms and legs wrapping around your frame; Jimin and Taehyung watched, both of them holding hands and meeting your gaze expectantly. Taehyung being the closest to you offered you his little hand, waiting till you took it. 

You’d offered them a smile one filled with all the love you held for them, quickly making your way out of the estate and towards the car waiting to take you to your new home. You’d managed to get them into the car when fingers circled your throat, a light weight you’d been familiar with but had never before felt threatened by. 

“Where are our children?” 

“Yoongi please, you’ll frighten them.” You said your gaze flickering to the shut door of the car, he followed your gaze slowly lifting his hand and instead clutching your wrist. 

“Where are you taking them, they’re also my children. It’s my right to know where you’re taking them.”

“Oh please there is no right. You may be their father but they’re  mine, I bore them, they come to me for everything.” 

“Why are you taking them?” He asks again, his voice wobbling slightly. 

“They’re mine and they want to leave with me.”

“How can you just leave me like this?”

“It’s what I want, it’s what’s right.”

“But why, do you hate me so you’d take my children and my heart?”

“Because I can't play nice anymore, I can't pretend to be happy when you so clearly want something else.” You scream voice echoing in the clearing that leads to the manor. It was a house you and Yoongi had built together, one you had shed blood, sweat and tears over. The underworld didn't often take female generals but you had proved to be an amazing strategist, one who Yoongi had been quick to employ when he was fighting a war amongst the other princes. His father, the king had died and with no clear successor the four of them had gone to war bringing forth armies of all manner of supernaturals. Yoongi’s army was made up of most vampires, succubi, and a few other lythe creatures. The war was long and there was a lot of bloodshed but in the end Yoongi came out the victor, besting even his oldest brother who was only a year older than he was. With Yoongi now ruling the underworld his need for a queen had come up, but Yoongi had solved that matter easily. He’d asked for your hand that same day before a room filled with supernatural nobles and his brothers. 

You remember the day well it was a shock to you mostly because he didn't seem as fond of you as he did of others. Though you had accepted, the wedding came soon after his way of claiming the throne for the foreseeable future, except you hadn't expected to actually fall in love with this not so cold aloof prince. It had taken a few years but you had fallen in love and you had fallen fast, your twins came not long after when sex was no longer a chore but more for pleasure. Your baby followed two years after your twins but with every child growing older and Jungkook now being two Yoongi seemed less and less interested in you and them. They were children, the future of this kingdom and yet he had spent more hours away from you and them than he had the throne room. You’d seen the way his gaze would wander, had heard the gossip amongst the harpies that worked in the manor. How the king had taken up a mistress, a young succubus by the name of Andromeda. It didn't take long for the entire manor to take sides, most vampires and demons sided with you because they respected you but more so they loved your children. The incubi and succubi took Yoongi’s who seemed all the more unaware of the tension bubbling within the manor walls. 

You’d been making your way to the throne room in hopes that this rumor would be put to rest and have Yoongi explain why it came to be in the first place. Though you were so very shocked to find the exact opposite, there in the throne room like young lovers were Yoongi and that succubi Andromeda perched on his lap. She smiled down at him, hands clutching his hair as he too smiled up at her, a smile you’d recognized easily. You felt a sharp pain then, one that had you gasping and clutching at your chest before stumbling away before either of them could see you. Jennie was by your side quickly, one of your closest friends and a fellow soldier, her eyes quickly scanning your form as the pain grew pulling pained cries from your lips. It was unbearable, like all your bones breaking while flames licked at your skin. The last you heard was her scream for help before you’d passed out. 

It was with a heavy heart that you’d learned that you’d lost a child a puzzling thing since your kind wasn’t prone to miscariage, you’d been devastated to say the least. Months went by in a blink of an eye, the sadness consuming you but slowly you came to be yourself. You’d long since moved into another bedroom away from Yoongi, and spent significantly less time before the court and his mistress. If he planned to mock you with her presence he would do so by himself, since giving up your queenly duties you’d chosen to spend more time with your children. You loved every bit of spending time with them, and realised how much you had missed since their birth. The days grew long and what had once been peaceful due to your lack of duties had come to an end. Yoongi stood before your bedroom face neutral as he waited for you to return, and you had just rounded the corner when you’d spotted him. 

He’d been quick to demand you take up your duties again as queen, not a single hint that he had taken note of your absence other than as he had said, “queens do their duties, they don't  play hooky with their children”  a scowl present on his face. You’d said nothing hoping it would be enough to have him leave quicker. He didn't however as he closed the distance between you and moved to caress your cheek. It was hard not to recoil as his skin touched yours, a wave of disgust drowning you as he pressed close breath warm as he whispered, “you’re just as beautiful as when we married” before kissing your lips and then turned on his heel. You were quick to enter your bedroom as bile rose in your throat just barely making it to a bucket before emptying the contents of your stomach. 

The following days you played the soft demure queen with a smile so fake even angels would believe you. Yoongi kept his mistress close, claiming she was one of your ladys and needed to be close at all times. It grew intolerable being near them especially when your children sought you out throughout the day having become accustomed to seeing you often. Which had sparked your plan, you hadn’t intended to leave your children had never dreamed of it; but they would need  a role model and you couldn't be that for three young princes and so here you were glaring at Yoongi. His expression reeked of heartbreak but you didn't believe it, no you couldn't believe it because you knew him. 

“Can’t play nice, can’t pretend, did you think being queen would be easy?” He asks.

“No, but I didn't expect for my king, the father of my children, to grow bored of me so quickly. Least of all to make me fall in love with you so you could just hurt me.” 

“I did no such thing, I love you, you hold my heart you have since I named you a general in my army and you won our first battle.”

“Do you play me for a fool? I know of Andromeda, or did you think I wouldn’t find out.” You watch as his eyes close in defeat, he doesn't look guilty when he opens them just heartbroken. 

“I didn't mean to, she used her charms on me and I was weak to resist and if that has caused you pain I’m sorry.” he says and his eyes shine with truth but all has been said and done and you want to get away if only for a while. 

“I won't accept your apology,” you breathe and you see him stiffen as your eyes fill with tears “it's too late to apologize, not after I lost our baby.” 

“What?” 

“I lost our baby because of you, my kind believes in soulmates and when our mate betrays or wrongs us we suffer for it. I suffered the loss of our baby alone, and I can never forgive you for that.” you say tears now falling. 

“I, I didn't know, did you know what it was?” he asks hesitantly. 

“No, but that doesn't matter anymore we’re leaving and maybe one day we will return but for now we’ll be living away from the manor. You can visit but only if they ask for you, I won’t force them or you.” You glance at the door stepping towards it and pulling it open, inside the car your babies have fallen asleep. A smile slips onto your lips as you gaze at them, eyes still glassy with tears before you turn back to Yoongi who stares blankly at you.

“I hope that in the time of our absence you decide what it really is that you want, and that i can somehow forgive you.” you say.

“I do love you, I will always love you and I hope that with time you’ll come to love me again.” he says meeting your gaze one last time before you slide into the car and it drives away.

[headoverhiddles]

Shadow Of A Dream - V. A. Vandevere (Michael Keaton - Dumbo) x Reader

Synopsis: Your husband's precious dream is shattered, but you two can rebuild.

Notes: Takes place directly after the movie, so spoilers!

You walk as softly as you can into the parlour, where you know your husband is sitting. He's been in here for days, doing nothing but staring out the window. It's hard to watch him like this... but it's understandable. He had just seen his dream go up in flames the past week, all based on a whim he had been certain would skyrocket business.

"I brought you some tea," you say, setting the cup down. He doesn't respond. "I put something sweet in it for you." Still, nothing. You know he likes to be alone when dealing with things, but you're worried about him. He's neglecting food, not sleeping properly.

You walk over, sliding your arms around his neck and down his chest, and see that he's fallen asleep. An empty brandy glass lays smashed under his chair. He wakes up with a start, and reaches for your arms, giving them a squeeze.

"(y/n)," he whispers. "You're still here?"

"What are you talking about?" you smile, "Did you have a bad dream?"

"No, I..." he looks utterly perplexed. "They always leave."

Your heart breaks a little at the sincere vulnerability in his voice.

"Well, I'm not them. I'm me." You sit on the edge of his desk across from him, and fix his silver wig. He smiles at the gesture, and takes your hands.

"I won't hold it against you if you go. My life's work, it's... been destroyed. I have no money, I have no credit, I'd..." he shakes his head, "I don't even know how I could keep you."

You gently take off the diamond necklace he proudly wooed you with the first night you met, and place it on the desk.

"I'd say that'll buy us some time to think, hm?"

He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry-- he just pulls you into his arms, and then the decision is made for him. Tears start to stream down his cheeks as he holds you close to him.

"It was that elephant, and Medici," he whispers, "It was them. What I did was selfish. Power hungry." He pulls back, a glint in his eye. "But I'd do it all again." His knuckles whiten. "I built myself up from nothing. When my parents gave me up, I was left with nothing but a dream. I had to fight for myself on the streets of New York with the rest of the vermin. None of them know the meaning of mystery. Of mystique! On the street, I was Victor Allen. Another grey face in a sea of grey, unremarkable bodies. But V.A. Vandevere..." his eyes noticeably brighten, take on an exciteable gleam that almost reflects the circus. "...he's the ticket to real magic. I'm the ticket. And my girl, I would do all of it again if it meant watching my dreams come true one more time."

You run your hand down his arm, and bite your lip. "That's my Vandy." You press a soft kiss to his cheek, kissing down to the corner of his lips. "You can rebuild. We can rebuild."

He smirks, imagining his name back up in lights, a bigger, better 'Dreamland'.

"So whatdya say... Dream Daddy?" you tease, giving his bottom lip a little lick, and he drags you in for a real kiss, cupping your cheeks.

"I say... it's showtime, baby mine."