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lustbile · 4 years ago

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To Provoke

Incubus!HaechanxReader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: dom-ish haechan, semi public (alley way), oral&fingering, biting, blood consumption, & can maybe be interpreted as degrading but not really

notes: a resounding thank you to whoever gave haechan curls and horns im in love with you nct stylist person. I wrote this all today and it made me stupid so I will try to go through and do more editing. Also not that I think anyone would, but I made the edit for this, horns and all, and im asking politely no one repost it, i know it’s not the most extravagant edit but im asking u pls.

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You were trying to provoke him.

You were always trying to provoke him.

Everything you did, every move, blink, sigh, and turn was an attempt to pull him from the shadows.

To admit you’re addicted to him is embarrassing, degrading even, especially with the way it fills his chest and wild eyes with hunger and pride. His ego was one thing that never needed to grow, big enough to fill every nook and cranny of the universe, but something about the way your pretty eyes would glitter at him in awe pushed it over the edge in free fall.

The outfit you chose to wear was maybe a bit too revealing for the weather, the nipping cold dancing along your shoulders and thighs in a way that makes your stomach clench and your teeth chatter. But it was the same outfit you had worn on the night you had met him, the outfit that his greedy fingers tugged and pulled on to get access to your skin, and it still had the smallest of tears in the seem from his impatience that night.

But it got you attention, and that's what mattered in the end.

He had always had a jealous streak, something he’d deny sharply if you had the nerve to accuse him, but that didn’t change the fact that some of your best nights with him were spent after he showed up to remind you that your body and skin were for him only. And that jealousy was the exact thing you needed to get him to show his face again.

It had been far too long since you had felt him last. You had no clue where he could have possibly ran off to for such a long time, but that didn’t stop the fire that was building in your belly. And no matter how many times you tried, your own wandering hands were never enough to quench your body’s thirst like he could.

The man you spoke to at the club meant less than nothing to you, even when you felt his growing excitement pressing against your back when you agreed to dance with him. The sloppy kisses you allowed him to press against the skin of your neck felt no different than just air as your mind was too distracted by the man that had taken ownership of your heart and soul so long ago, regardless of his absence.

It didn’t feel long before the lights became too bright, the alcohol that sloshed in your cup too bitter for your tongue, and the smell of the strange man too stale and unfamiliar. But when you pushed away from his chest and checked the time on your phone, while you ignored his grumbled complaints of you being a tease, you saw that it was only a handful of minutes past midnight.

You had stayed out much longer than that before, much later in fact and with glee, but something in your chest, a heavy and daunting weight, was pulling you towards the entrance on unsteady feet and a taunting disappointment on your shoulders.

Your mind still felt muggy even after you broke away from the stuffy environment of the building, but you brushed it off as a combination of the minimal alcohol you’d consumed and the angry unsatisfied monster that had made home in your gut.

You had enough of a head on your shoulders to scan your purse for your pepper spray and pocket knife before you decided that maybe the short walk home would help clear your mind and disappointment. It was still cold, your icy fingertips begging for a uber or cab instead, but you were hoping the biting chill would help calm down whatever lustful beast you had become because of a man you couldn't even contact.

Your legs felt too heavy to carry with every step you took, your neck feeling like your necklaces were made from tons of lead instead of whatever cheap metal the random online store you had ordered them from used. You were grateful that the only company you had on the back streets you had chosen to take were the flickering street lamps and the skittering rats you could hear in each alley you passed.

You could almost taste the relief of the cheap bottles of wine you had stashed in your kitchen paired with a trashy netflix horror film when you turned onto your street, your apartment building somehow looking inviting with its old brick and foggy windows as it sat on the corner. The only thing stopping you from kicking off your heels and making a run for it being the memory of one of your less than polite neighbors dropping a large glass vase and not feeling any need to pick up the broken pieces before leaving for the day.

Instead you grit your teeth to help bear the pinching of your shoes, and break into a quick and awkward jog down the desolate stretch of sidewalk. Your eyes watering as you're met with icy air.

Peace and warmth and cheap familiar alcohol is only a few strides away when you hear it. To anyone else in the city it would have been no different than the sounds of an everyday creature scavenging in the trash for food, but you had lived here long enough to know what's a rat or raccoon or, in this case, a cat.

It was a stray you had befriended long ago, one that could climb and duck into your conveniently opened balcony door for a bowl of food and a scratch behind the ears. It was just a sweet little boy that was grey and covered with scratches and scars, but due to a no pet policy had to be kept labeled as a stray and a secret to your landlord.

You huff in frustration, assuming he would have been curled up on your couch when you returned home and not chasing rats in the alley next to your building, but he had always been mischievous from the day you met him. So with the hope that you could block his image from the security cameras, you turn and head into the dim light of the small alley.

You had lovingly dubbed him Oscar when you came home more than once to your trash can tipped over and learned he had a special love for garbage, and that name along with some weird chattering cooing left you mouth as you tried to coax him from whatever trash can he was creating chaos within.

Your teeth were already gritted and you back stiff as the playful feline found enjoyment in jumping out and scaring you in times like this and you assumed this time would be no different as his evilness seemed to only raise as it got deeper and deeper into the night. So you were already mentally prepared for an attack from an overly excited ball of fur, what you weren’t prepared for was a voice.

“What are you doing out so late?” the voice was gruff and slightly accusatory and made you all but jump completely out of your skin. And as you whip around in circles to try to find the face that the words feel from, you see your love and joy Oscar jump from the tallest trash can and scale the fire escape up to scramble back into your home like a guilty teenager that was caught by their mother.

“I asked you a question,” this time the words were followed by strong hands gripping your shoulders and a shrill yelp escaping your throat.

Your hand was pushing into your purse for at least one of your weapons as you squat to get out of the person's hold and turn to see their face, the grinning and prideful boy behind you washes you with a wave of relief before stabbing at you with annoyance.

“Haechan, what the fuck,” you whisper harshly as you pull your hand from your purse and stand up straight, your now free hand now moving to jab a rough finger into the dip of his chest, “how many times? How many times have I told you to not fucking sneak up on me like that. I know the pepper spray can’t hurt you and a stab wound would heal in like five minutes but that doesn’t mean I want to stab you, idiot.”

“Why not?” his head jerks back as if you said something dumb like the sky wasn’t actually blue or he wasn’t really the sexiest man to live, something that just has no logic behind it in the slightest, “like you said it would heal so maybe we could try, might be kinda hot.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing you roughly by the waist, his other hand wrapping gently around your neck before he pushes you against the rough brick behind you, the permanent evil glimmer in his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Do you ever get tired of being an absolute freak?” you thinly veiled insult doesn’t pack as much of a punch as you had maybe hoped, but when he begins to mouth at the skin of your jaw and cheek you can’t really find it within yourself to care.

“Well isn’t that why you like me?” he asks rhetorically as he starts to nip light bruises in the spots that blur your vision, “freaky me must be your favorite, because otherwise you wouldn’t be dressed the way you are.”

He’s no wrong, not even in the slightest, but the confident way in which he says it is enough to make you want to lie, “wanting you and liking you are two different things, no one ever said I liked you.”

“Oh but you want me,” the way in which he takes everything you say in strides without even batting an eye is bit infuriating, but the way his fingers tighten against your neck and push into your jugular is enough to make you melt against him, “that’s what you said so for once that’s not me putting words into your pretty little mouth. But don’t say you don’t like me, that’s a dirty lie and we both know it.”

“You don’t like when I lie?” you pout at him, trying to pull more and more reactions from him, “but some of your favorite things I say are lies, like how big you are and how well you fuc-“

“Alright that’s enough of you,” he interrupts, his fist tightening that much more and his other slipping from your waist to reach under the hem of your dress, a satisfied growl and his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek being his reaction when he realizes the underwear he was grabbing for wasn’t there, “I’ve had to watch you prance around all night, letting a low down dog of a man touch you. And for what? My attention? Baby, you already have my attention.”

Your words stutter violently, the only sounds coming from your throat are whines and gasps as his fingers slip between your thighs and glide against the dampened skin, never staying on your clit long enough to give you the pleasure you need but enough to make you squirm.

“You were watching me?” you finally gasp out, before it clicks in your brain how dumb of a question it was. He told you a long time ago that he always will keep an eye on you, and knowing what he is and the things he can do, you had no reason to not believe him.

“I always am my pretty baby,” he coos before pressing teasing kisses to your open mouth, seemingly tasting and feeding off of every little noise that slips out, “and it hurts to see you let such a nasty man touch you where only I should. You didn’t even notice him following you out of that trashy club did you, silly thing?”

You jerk back as much as you can with the way he holds you, eyes widening at the news that you were apparently being followed without your knowledge. Every emotion that swims in your brain feels like its fighting for dominance, but with the way he chooses to dip his middle and ring fingers just barely past your entrance you’re struggling to cling to just one.

“God, you are so lucky to have me aren’t you? Who else would take care of creeps and make you feel good hm?” he tilts his head as he speaks, his breath warm against the side of your face before his tongue dips to lick at the shell of your ear, “no one can make you feel the way I do can they?”

“No,” you finally answer after a moment, the word coming out as an airy breath as his fingers finally sink in all the way. He wastes no time before curling them and pressing at the spot that makes your knees buckle, “please Haechan, need you so bad.”

“Oh is that one of those infamous lies of yours you were talking about?” he pulls away slightly, but shows no interest in slowing the motions of his hand, “well it can’t be can it? I can always tell you know? Can hear the way your heart picks up when you lie, much different than the way it does when you’re about to come for me.”

His wrist starts to move faster, the heel of his hand finally pressing and rubbing against your clit as the muscles of his forearm start to strain. The telling signs of your orgasm feel too sudden, too fast, and with his hand still constricting the blood that tries to flow to your head all you can do is let your eyes roll as your breathing comes out as small puffs.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” you can only let out a pathetic cry when he pulls his hand away from you suddenly, your lack of oxygen being the only thing stopping you from letting out a scream loud enough for the whole block to hear as he denies you of any stimulation. All you can do is let out incoherent babbling and whines as your hands reach up to dig your nails into the leather jacket protecting his forearms.

He releases your neck, your skin burning from the friction and the sudden amount of oxygen and blood returning to your head making you dizzy. And while your eyes roll as they try to refocus and your heart rate begins to slow to normal, he grabs your wrists and pushes your weakened form to be flush against the wall thats scrapes against your exposed skin.

“You are by far the best thing ive ever tasted,” he mutters, not concerned with whether you heard him or not, before his mouth latches to the side of your neck. He seems to find the most interest in the finger prints he left behind, as he pulls the tender skin between his sharp teeth and works to create a bruise that won’t leave you for another week.

Regardless of denying you a proper release, he considers himself to still be a generous guy. As his tongue lays flat against the burning skin of your neck, he starts to kick at your feet until your clumsy legs are falling apart wide enough for him to press his thigh against your skin, and in the exact way he predicted, you can’t help but to begin grinding helplessly against him.

One of the main reasons the dress that you currently wear is one of his favorites, is the neckline. Low enough to show the expanse of your chest and just enough of your cleavage to make him salivate. He’s as transparent as glass with this love, especially as he mouth travels down between your collarbones and sternum.

You can hear a quiet pop in the fabric of the neckline when he bites down and begins to pull it with him as he sinks down to the floor, the huff you let out being both in frustration from him further ruining a nice dress and your impatience.

The straps dig harshly into the skin of your shoulders before they give and fall, the sudden lack of support making it easier for Haechan to take the fabric and expose your chest to the cold air.

The look in his eyes when you look down is mean and predatory, you fear one day he’ll snap and consume you whole, but for today he settles for wrapping his swollen lips around your nipple and sucking harshly.

Your hips quicken involuntary, broken moans filling the empty alley as you twitch and squirm in his hold. He seems to grow irritated at your impatience as he shoves your wrists back harshly, his knuckles audibly scraping against the brick.

“You can never be patient to save your life,” his head tilts forward and he presses his forehead against your sternum with a huff before he’s leaning back up to press a sloppy kiss against your panting mouth, “you’re lucky I missed you so much or otherwise you’d be in for a lot longer of a night.”

He keeps your wrists trapped in his hold as he moves to kneel on the ground, the rough and dirtied pavement doing nothing to help the tears that already litter his jeans.

You feel your face flush when he lets go of one wrist and uses his newly freed hand to shove the hem of your dress up and around your hips, and the burning beneath your skin only worsens when he leans forward and breathes deeply with his nose pressed against your pubic bone.

He leans back for a moment, his hand wrapping around the bend of your knee to pull your leg to rest on his shoulder and you feel your shoulder sting from the wall cutting into your skin from him moving you like a doll.

“Haechan,” you whisper his name out with a pout that you hope will get you exactly what you want, but you can only huff and petulantly twitch when he begins nipping and licking at the skin on the insides of your thighs.

His teeth are sharper than most, and he usually airs on the side of caution because he’s aware of this. His bites are gentle for the most part, but when you begin to peak in your feelings of impatience, you can’t help the way your hips begin jerking forwards in search of his tongue.

His palm pushing against your hip is his first warning, a generous one in his opinion, but when the warning seems to fly completely over your pretty little head he has no other choice but to lean forward and sink his teeth into delicate skin at the bend of your thigh.

You cry out for a second before you’re tucking your lip between your teeth. It stings terribly, the skin breaking around his teeth burns but you can’t stop the way you revel in the sharp pain. And at the exact same moment you taste the metallic ting of the blood falling from your bitten lip, you feel the same warm thick liquid drip from the wounds he’s created and straight into his grinning mouth.

More blood falls freely when he pulls his teeth from your flesh, his warm tongue flattening against the injury immediately to catch as much of the liquid as possible.

He laps at it for a moment, savoring as much of the taste of your life source as possible, before he starts at the bottom of the bite mark and drags slowly up.

Once his tongue moves off the wound, he continues across your skin. The moment he hits your labia, you let out a gasp and jerk against him again, your mind completely erasing the fact that the bite was meant to be a punishment for that exact thing.

He seems to have forgotten him wanting you to remain still, as he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest until his licking across your stil swollen bundle of nerves.

He moans as the flavor of your arousal mixes with the still lingering taste of your blood, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making you shiver.

He tilts his head up to smile at you, his eyes shining as he grabs your hands and moving them to thread into his curled hair.

“Why are you shivering?” he asks with a faux concern, his right hand smoothing over your thigh before pushing between your legs to return his fingers to their spot inside of you, immediately pumping and curling them slowly, “are you cold or something? Maybe it’s because you’re in such a skimpy little dress?”

You groan out in annoyance at his playful act, your eyes rolling back but for once not in pleasure. It’s not until he starts to proudly giggle to himself do you exploit the hold you have on the back of his head to push him back to your body.

You fear that being shoved around may be the exact thing Haechan would have wanted, when he happily moans before latching his lips to your clit again, but the pleasure that melts your muscles erases any need to call him out on his deviousness and perverted enjoyment.

He seems happy with your moving hips when they start to move against his waiting face. Your fingers mindlessly and desperately tug at his scalp as your head tilts back and thumps against the wall.

The hand that isn’t pressed deeply inside you slides across your hip, his callused fingers making goosebumps run up your arms as they push into your lower belly.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his fingers as the curl and push apart, your thighs tensing around his bobbing head as he licks and bites gently at your clit. It feels like it’s harder to catch your breath and you know you’re only moments from orgasm.

“Please, please,” you start to stutter the word over and over, praying both that he lets you come and that you’re neighbors are deep enough in sleep to not hear the noises you know will escape you.

You almost cry in relief when you feel his shoulders shift, his face and fingers both pressing deeper from the movement in a way that tells you he has no intention on letting up on your shivering body.

His blunt nails start to scratch into your skin and you can feel his heavy panting breath against your skin every time he begins to lap at you desperately. You can feel your muscles lose even more strength, and your head becoming heavier and dazed as he coaxed you closer and closer to your finish.

Your shoulders twitch up towards your ears and you feel your stomach clench as your back curves, small whines and whimpers leave you as the heel of your foot thumps against the space between his shoulder blades.

You gasp out when you feel it, them. They start as small bumps beneath your palms, and you feel your chest tighten when it clicks what they are.

He’s always had a good hold on controlling them, keeping them hidden so he can wreak havoc without being clocked as something inhuman. They had peaked out a few times, usually in moments like this, but it’s such a rarity that you can’t stop the way your heart begins to thump in your chest.

Out of everything about him, you were obsessed with all of him, but you loved his horns the most. They were small and sharp at the side of his head and the way he looks when they’re poking out amongst his curled hair, and especially when he was grumpy or mad, made you want to jump on him and kiss him all over.

You were so caught up and distracted by them growing to full size directly under your hands you forgot how sharp they were at their tapered ends. The reminder you get is when they sharply down push into your palms like thorns.

You gasp sharply, but the way they curl makes you afraid to pull away. It makes you tremble and flush with embarrassment, but the pain bleeding into your hands is the last straw on your nerves. All you can do is wrap your now bleeding hands around the horns and cry out into the cold air as your erratic hips move across his face.

He groans deeply against you as your nails scrape at the skin that surrounds the base of his horns, the feeling of his and his still moving tongue pushes you through and past your gasping orgasm.

You sign in relief when he finally detaches from your body, his mouth moving up to press your hip and across the space of your stomach the dress reveals. He puts your leg down slowly and he creeps back up your torso, now hyper aware of your wounded hands still stuck on his horns.

“Sorry my love, they’re kinda sharp aren’t they?” he rhetorically asks with a soft but guilty grin. He stays ducked down enough that your hands don’t go too high that they start to slip, and he follows with his own to help you detach them.

“I just keep making my mark on you tonight huh?” he sighs as he stands at full height and brings your still bleeding hands to his face. You grit your teeth and scrunch your nose when he gives you a knowing look that says ‘we both know what I have to do.’

He is quick and gentle when he swipes his tongue across the deep cuts in your hands, not wanting it to sting more than necessary.

A teasing grin fills his face when he looks up to see the tired pout on your face, “just like the one on your leg, there won’t be anything left than a bruise if you just wait like an hour,” he’s sincere in his words, and you know it works, but you still feel all wounded and tired.

“Take me home,” you demand, wrapping your slowly healing hands around his shoulders and leaning until your head rests against his shoulder.

“Hey now,” he contradicts his tone by wrapping his arm around your waist and helping guide you walk to your apartment, “you still have to feed Oscar, and take a shower, and I’m not even full yet so you have to let me play with you until I wear you out.”

His tone is far too genuine and loving for the words he says, and you swat weakly at his chest in annoyance, but all he does in response is a laugh.

#nct smut #haechan smut #nct imagine #nct oneshot #haechan oneshot #haechan imagine #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct fic #nct fanfic

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doublekrecs · 4 years ago

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Going Live

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis: You're an intern for the FBI but double as a camgirl in your spare time. You thought you kept things pretty well under wraps but who knew one of your mentors watched you all along.

Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v action (remember to wrap it), face fucking, use of sex toys, tiny bit of degrading

a/n: writing this in the setting of season 10/11 because spencer looks so damn good and i wanted to include my girl tara

also part 2 of more than physics should be up later today! hope you enjoy -🧞‍♀️

You had been a paid intern for the FBI for about a year, paid being said lightly. But the job was definitely worth it. While being under the wing of the BAU you had not only learned so much about your hopefully future profession, but you had made a family with the team. Especially under the wing of Tara Lewis, she had been there for a little while but you looked up to her work and she was more than happy to offer advice and a good wine night.

The team knew you had a second job on the side but weren’t exactly sure what it was, just that you worked from home. They respected your personal life enough to stay out of it, however that didn’t stop Rossi from offering you a little extra because “that's what uncles are supposed to do”. You would always wave him off and say you could handle yourself, because you could.

You thoroughly enjoyed working. The money and gifts were obviously a big reward but there was always something so exciting about being on camera. Maybe it was how risque it was, being exposed for thousands to see. Or the fact that many were pleasuring themselves to the sight of you.

It was Friday night and you were getting your setup ready. You already had your outfit and glam on. Someone had sent you a set from your wishlist, lilac lace hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating all your assets and boosting your confidence. In your hair were the same color streaks you did with a tinting spray. You set the camera and laptop up in front of your bed. Silk sheets and plush pillows behind you where you could rest comfortably before your show started.

Little did you know across town Spencer Reid was getting ready to tune in to said show. He was never one for tech, having Garcia still hand him paper files and would refuse to upgrade his phone. He had gotten a computer just so he could video chat with doctors quickly about new medicine for his mother. However he quickly found out there was so much more the internet had to offer.

He had stumbled across your show one lonely night. Spencer couldn’t see himself going out to find a one night stand so the pleasure of his hand it was. He was looking through videos when he saw the thumbnail with a girl wearing glasses similar to the ones you wear when you forget contacts. His curiosity got the best of him and if he was a cat he’d be one life down. He couldn’t believe the sight on the screen in his lap.

There you were the bubbly intern, body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you from the pink wand you held over your clit. He was delightfully flustered and the moans spilling from the computer’s speakers weren’t doing much to help.

He was entranced by you writhing in pleasure but was knocked back into reality after hearing you giggle. God he loved when you made that noise in the office, usually after fake flirting with Hotch or hearing about JJ’s boys. But this situation was totally different and if he was honest with himself he was very into it.

You reached over to grab a large pink dildo. Taking it in your mouth before swiping it through your folds. It easily slipped in and you started rapidly pumping it into you chasing your orgasm.

Spencer was too enthralled to even think about touching himself. He was using the gift which was his eidetic memory to the best of his ability to make this something he’d never forget.

You came with a loud moan, hips lifting and grinding against the toy to chase the friction. Quickly you turned off the wand and took the toy out. You sat up and looked into the camera before sucking it off. Spencer's eyes widened as he let out a groan shifting on his bed.

“Alright guys that was fun for tonight,” you said as you sat criss cross on the bed. “I didn’t think I’d be able to get to five.”

FIVE?? He thought in his head. He felt like he was gonna explode just watching those last few minutes. How was he supposed to last watching you make yourself cum five times.

“Thank you so much for all the tips and support! My links are all in the description and I’ll see you angels next Friday! Muahh” you signed off blowing the camera a kiss.

Spencer knew it was wrong of him to view a coworker in such an exposed light but he couldn’t help himself. So he spent the night viewing some of your old videos which brought him to what he swears to be the best orgasm of his life. Of course he sent gracious tips and made sure to buy little items off the wishlist, mentally noting to return every Friday night. Even if it meant hiding in the bathroom from Morgan in their shared hotel room on cases. That was two months ago.

Just as you finished your session the phone rang signaling a case. Quickly you got in the shower and put on comfy business clothes since you usually stayed with Garcia doing extra research and taking notes. You quickly grabbed your bag and keys, making your way straight to the office.

In the elevator you heard someone calling to keep it open. Spencer made his way in, buttoning his cardigan and adjusting his bag, quickly saying thank you. You pressed the button to the floor as you felt a pair of eyes on you. Looking over Spencer was eyeing you with a confused look on his face. You were about to question him when he spoke up first.

“I thought you had streaks in your hair”

“I did… Earlier tonight but they washed out.” He looked even more confused, then his brain put two and two together. He just realized what he had said. For a genius this wasn’t one of his brightest moments.

You looked at him amused as a deep blush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears. There was only one way someone would know about your quick hair change: by watching your show. The door to the elevator opened and you walked out giggling as he started sputtering apologies behind you. You quickly cut him off.

“Spence, it's alright. If you want we can talk about this later because right now you have a bad guy to catch. But may I suggest making your name something less obvious, not that I don’t love ‘magiclover187’.” He stood there mouth gaping as you patted his shoulder and walked up to the conference room to meet the rest of the team.

The case was one of the easier ones. Very minimal killing and the team was back by Tuesday morning, ready for a week of paperwork. Spencer had been dancing around you the whole time, he could barely keep eye contact with you and would rush to leave the room if you walked in. If he was this flushed around you with clothes on you could just imagine how much of a mess he would be when he watched you perform. Which brought an idea to your head.

Friday rolled around and you walked over to his desk where he was nose deep in one of his Russian books. You put your hand in it to bring it down. Once he noticed it was you he was about to start with another ramble of apologies when you stopped him.

“Alright I’m tired of the awkwardness and I want my friend back,” you said with a soft smile. “Why don’t you come over tonight and we can have that talk. I’ll even order a pizza and we can watch Doctor Who.”

“Y/n are you sure? I-I mean it is um uh Friday.. And ya know you usually film,” he said as he played with his tie.

You giggled at how nervous he was. Poor little genius didn’t know he was the only one with tricks up their sleeve.

“It’s fine I promise. Just a night with my favorite customer,” you said winking at him. He choked and looked around to see if anyone was looking at his outburst.

“I’m kidding.. Sort of,” you trailed off. “But I mean it about you coming over. I’m going home now but I expect you there in an hour with drinks.”

With that you turned around and walked off, adding a little extra sway to your hips. Obviously that did the trick as you heard a small groan behind you. Spencer dropped his head back as he started wracking his brain to figure out how to live through the night without making a bigger fool of himself or cuming in his pants.

You know maybe you were evil, you thought to yourself as you put on the finishing touches to your outfit for the night. Once you got home you sped into the shower to freshen up for him to come over and get your setup ready. You were wearing a cream colored strappy bodysuit. Over it was a large cardigan, almost resembling the maroon one he owned, strange. To top it off you were wearing your glasses and your legs were adorned with your favorite thigh high socks.

The three knocks on the door instantly made a smirk appear on your face. This might just be one of your best schemes yet. Looking through the peephole you saw Spencer gnawing on his bottom lip holding a few bottles of soda. Taking a deep breath you opened the door greeting him with all the casualty in the world.

“Hey! I’m glad you came, come in.”

He followed you in and tried to keep his eyes above your neck, trying to act like he wasn’t getting completely hard by just your outfit. You sat down on your couch and patted it for him to sit next to you. He took the seat and gulped not really sure what you had planned.

“Um how long for the pizza to get here?”

“The pizza’s not coming Spence,” you said shaking your head. “But you are.”

You leaned forward to place your hand on his on the couch. “I want you to fuck me on camera Spencer,” you said with sweet confidence, fluttering your lashes. His eyes kept flashing between your cleavage showing through the cardigan and your lips before finally landing on your eyes. He didn’t see a single hint of humor in them, nothing transparent but lust.

He pulled his hand from under yours to place in your hair, pulling you into a heated kiss. You pushed back on his chest a bit to try and get some air.

“Save that magic for the show,” you said as you pulled him up to lead to your bedroom.

The camera was set at a little bit of a lower angle. The audience would just be able to see you and at most Spencer’s chest. You had made sure it was fine and even turned it on as a test so he could see what he looked like. After you got everything out of the way you hit the button to go live and instantly people started flooding in. If the bulge in his pants told you anything, it was that he was excited to be on the other side of the screen this time.

“Hello my angels!” you said into the camera, Spencer was taken back at what was going on. After months of lusting over the young intern he was finally seeing the show in person.

“Today I have a special guest with me. My very good friend, the Doctor,” you took his hand to pull him into frame. “He’s very excited to be here,” you said, hand moving down to palm him through his pants.

His hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, making you look up at him. Huh. This was a new Spencer you wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

“Let's not play games princess. Or else the only thing making you cum tonight are your pathetic little fingers. Am I clear?”

You shivered at the intensity of his voice instantly trying to nod the best you could within his grip. He let go and you went back to task at hand, undoing his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. He was long and pink. Precum already spilling out of the pretty tip, you couldn’t wait to have him in your mouth, among other places. You wasted no time in licking a broad stripe along a vein under it. His hand went to grab a handful of your hair giving it a testing tug as a warning to stop teasing.

Your hand went to grip what couldn’t fit in your mouth but you tried your best to take him all in. You could hear the pings of tips and comments being said. Spencer could too and leaned over slightly to read them.

“Face fuck her,” he murmured. He pulled you off of his cock and looked down into your eyes, “Is that what you want princess? Hm.” His thumb went to clean up the spit dripping down your chin before rubbing your lips. “You want me to fuck your face?”, he said in a condescendingly sweet voice.

“Yes Doctor please! Fuck my throat.”

“Good girl.”

Both his hands made their place nested in your hair, guiding you to his cock. He wasted no time in being brutal. Tears were leaking down your cheeks as he kept on hitting the back of your throat. Spencer was enjoying himself to the fullest letting out curses and praises at how good your mouth felt. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer and you could feel it too as he started to throb in your mouth. He then pulled you off, a trail of spit connected from your lips and his cock.

“Such a dirty whore for me. Show everyone how messy I make you,” he took your head and made you turn to look in the camera. Comments pinged talking about how pretty you looked with mascara running and smudged lipstick.

“Thank them and ask if you deserve to cum on my cock,” Who knew Spencer had this in him. But you were loving every second of it and put on your best pair of puppy dog eyes to beg the camera for Spencer to split you in half. And you had no shame in doing so.

“Please let the Doctor fuck me. I’ve been such a good girl for you guys,” you pleaded into the camera. The audience was pleased with your begging as they said you deserved it for being so good.

Spencer took his time in unbuttoning the cardigan you had on, teasingly rubbing your arms as he slipped it off. His hands then went to the bodice of it, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric.

“Ah shit doctor, please fuck me already.”

Who was he to deny you of such a thing when you asked so nicely. He pushed you back down on the silk sheets. Pulling you by your thighs to the end of the bed where he moved the thong of the bodysuit to the side and slid his cock up your folds. Lubricating it in your juices before slipping right in. You both gasped at the intrusion, his hands grabbing your hips with a force sure to leave bruises. He used the leverage to set a brutal pace, ramming his cock into you.

Your ears were ringing from the pleasure but you could hear the constant pings of your tip box and comment section flooding.

“Shit baby you’re so tight. Perfect little pussy squeezing me so good.” You babled off thank yous and whimpers from being so close to your climax.

You felt Spencer stop for a second and reach over to grab something. Then you felt it. Your wand set to the highest setting placed on your clit as he started to thrust into you again. Sounds of your moans and skin slapping together filled the room along with the buzzing of the vibrator. You were sure there was going to be a noise complaint notice on your door in the morning.

You were so close to having the bubble in your stomach burst and so was he.

“I'm gonna cum Doctor,” you practically yelled. “Please cum inside me!”

“Cmon princess. Let me feel you let go.”

With that the knot broke and you swore you died and went to heaven. Your walls squeezing Spencer led him to his end a little after you. Thrusts faltering and groaning at the feeling of pleasure washing over him. He turned off the wand and put it to the side before slipping out of you.

Looking into the camera you gasped at your appearance. Hair disheveled and face messy from crying in pleasure multiple times that night. Your mixed release leaking down your thigh and onto the sheets.

There were non stop pings of people calling Spencer a lucky bastard and asking for him to come back next Friday. Spencer nodded his head over to your bathroom to get you guys something to clean up with and let you do your closing.

“Thanks for the love tonight angels,” you said with a smile on your face, entirely blissed out. “As always the links are in the description and I’ll see you guys next Friday. Maybe I’ll talk to the Doctor about future appearances. Bye!”

With that you fell back on your bed and closed your eyes. Your body jolted at a sudden coldness between your thighs.

“Right sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“So where did that come from?” you looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he stated seriously.

You giggled and took his hand, “Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Of course. Now why don’t you shower while I get us a pizza. For real this time.”

“Or we can shower together then call the pizza.”

He contemplated it before smiling at you, “You always have the best ideas.”

“Don’t I know it.. Doctor.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #mgg x reader #mgg smut #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds blurb #🧞‍♀️writes

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years ago

Text

was your favorite ; bucky barnes x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 4,152 words

summary — in which bucky barnes still lives with his ex-girlfriend following their break up.

warnings —fluff?? angst?? ex to lovers, sexual innuendo (just one) cursing i think, sad!insecure!bucky

pairing — bucky barnes x fem!reader

a/n — it too has been long since i got to write for bucky???? anyway i’d love to hear feedback :D also if you choose to follow me please have your age/age range stated in your bio..

tagging — @la-cey @pedropcl @slutforcevans @iloveshawnieboi

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

Buck! Have you seen where my cardigan is?” Y/N was bent down over the dryer as she was ruffling through the pile of clothes she placed on the machine to dry but was too lazy to get it out and fold them. The super soldier being addressed to lifted his head from reading the newspaper to cast a worried glance on the woman, “I don’t know; I just did my laundry and I don’t think any of your clothes got mixed up with mine.”

With a huff she got up from her kneeling position, making her hit her head into the top of the machine, then walked away from their laundry room, groaning and rubbing the part of her head that hit the machine; joining his presence in the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water she pouted as she thought of where her sweater was. “Why are you looking for the cardigan anyway? And which one is it?”

Biting her bottom lip, she avoided eye contact with his blue eyes as she stammered out, “You know, it was the one you gave me.” Placing the paper down on the breakfast bar, he leaned closer and pouted at her, “I’m hurt, doll; I knew we broke up but I never thought you were petty enough to throw away my gifts.”

Squinting her eyes at him with a mocking pout, “Ha ha, you know it’s that I don’t treasure your gifts, Buck.” Feeling left out from the whole conversation, Alpine jumped up on the countertops and snuggled herself to Y/N’s stomach; letting her fingers scratch the white fur of the needy cat, “Al, can you go tell your dad how exaggerated he’s being?”

Scoffing, he snatched Alpine from his ex girlfriend's arms and covered his cat’s whole face with his metal hand as if shielding her from evil, “Don’t you dare play favorites! Not with my child who was mine first before she was yours.”

“Let’s be honest Buck, she always cuddles up to my side every time we watch a movie,” Y/N jabbed at him before moving to get her bag, slinging it on her shoulder. Bucky’s blue eyes followed her form from when she picked up her purse in the living room and was about to speak until the sound of someone knocking on their door cut them both off. “I’ll get it,” She placed a hand on his pec and tapped it, “I was leaving anyway.”

The super soldier was thankful that she quickly removed her palm from his chest so she wouldn’t hear how fast his chest was beating; despite having broken up a few months ago, he still gets flustered under her touch. “Hey Steve, how are you?” The Captain hugged her as he entered their apartment, “I’m good; you going somewhere?”

Nodding, she moved out of their apartment and waved the two super soldiers goodbye, “I am! Meeting up with some friends today; bye you two!” When she left the flat, Steve smirked at Bucky, “I got to say two more months of you two living together or not getting back together and I’m gonna lose this bet I have with Sam.”

Expertly, Steve dodged the crumpled up facial tissue Bucky threw at him as he scowled, “Why are you here anyway, punk?” Alpine jumped off Bucky’s arms and settled herself on her bed by the television as Bucky began cleaning up his mug and bowl. “Well jerk, I wanted to come over and talk about the mission.”

After placing all the utensils in the sink, Bucky looked at his best friend with a scowl, “What mission? We both don’t go anymore and just train the recruits.” Loving how riled up his best friend was being, the former captain chuckled loudly as he held his hands up since he got caught, “Okay you caught me. I was just bored at the compound and wanted to swing by.”

A soapy hand pointed to the door as the brunette said, “Well you swung by and said hi; now leave.” Planting his bum firm on one of the bar stools instead of leaving, Steve shot a serious glance on his best friend, “I will after I get the truth out of you.”

Childishly, the metal hand sprayed some water on the blonde who yelled out in surprise upon feeling his face dampen with water, “Real mature, Buck!”

“Says the guy who visited my home because he was bored and decided to play investigator on me!”

Laughing at his friend’s antics and frustrated tone, Steve sighed, “Come on, pal, be honest with yourself this time; why is it you and Y/N still live together even after breaking up?” After moving to place the set of cutleries to dry, Bucky was wiping his flesh hand with a towel as he looked at his friend with furrowed eyebrows. When he was met however with a mixture of worry and stern glance, the former Winter Soldier sighed as he relaxed his brows and he planted his palms on the granite top, “Well it’s beneficial for the both of us.”

“How is it beneficial? You guys are ex with benefits?”

“Idiot! Not like that,” Bucky quickly clarified, “Economically benefit, with inflation and capitalism increasing the cost of living, it helps us save big on rent.” Steve had his mouth hung agape in disbelief at the bullshit his best friend was selling on him. “Economically benefit? You both can afford a high luxury penthouse with both your salaries alone,” His arms opened wide as he referred to their current flat, “And you chose to live in this compact two bedroom apartment following your breakup? You’re not fooling me, pal.”

After grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge and handing one to Steve after he opened both, Bucky gulped down the grainy beverage he sighed out loud as he confessed, “Maybe part of me hopes we both can get back together,” He had to shoot Steve a look when the blonde squealed excitedly at his confession, “But we both just somewhat talked about how much of a hassle it is if we both moved out and during that time we just signed a new lease so it made sense at the time.”

“I didn’t need to learn the last part, you could have just said you wished to get back together and that would have made me happy,” Steve explained before drinking down almost half of the bottle. Rolling his eyes, Bucky walked to the living room and settled himself on the couch — Alpine too followed him and settled herself on his lap, her distinct way of seeking attention — as he stroked her fur and replied, “Well good thing I didn’t really ask for what you wanted, no? Hold on, what are you really here for, by the way?”

Taking the loveseat that was adjacent from where Bucky was sitting, Steve plopped down as he grabbed the remote off their coffee table and turned the television on, “Did you forget that I was coming over to watch the game?”

“And you couldn’t watch it on your own at your living quarter which is bigger and even has the latest television model?”

Steve threw his head back in laughter at his friend’s remark, “Well I could; but the thing is if I didn’t you would probably be grinching your life away,” He tipped his bottle to Alpine who was sprawled over his lap as his metal fingers were delicately scratching her belly, “By the looks of it, you’ve already achieved step one of being a grinch.”

His flesh hand grabbed for one of the throw pillows that Y/N bought first when they moved into this apartment and successfully struck his friend’s head, “Apologize to Alpine this instant!”

A scoff plus an offended look was Steve’s reaction before turning his head back to the game, “Dick! You knew I was kidding! Is this how you are with Y/N, hm? No wonder she broke up with you.”

It was a sensitive topic that Bucky never fully disclosed with any of the friends; somehow he felt that what happened between the two of them should stay with them. And there were many instances where Bucky wanted to tell someone what happened just so he knew how to reconcile with her — but somehow there was always a reason that prevented him from doing so.

“Punk, how would you go about asking your ex to get back together?” His question had the former Captain America smiling; even though his entire face was focused on the game on the screen, the pending conversation had his attention far more than the actual sport. “Well I don’t know, it would depend on how I broke up with that ex.”

Bucky knew what he was doing — he was fishing for more information regarding how things went down. And maybe he does actually have a suggestion. Without going into much detail, he answered, “The breakup seemed mutual and beneficial at first but as time went on it seems to not be the case anymore.”

“What kind of riddle is that, Shakespeare?!”

Somewhat pleased with his confused state, he chuckled, “That’s all the details you’re going to get about my breakup with Y/N,” Part of Bucky was offended with how his Steve let out a disappointed grunt but continued on, “Right now, what’s more important is I get back with her.”

It had been almost an hour and yet the only sounds that could be heard were the announcers detailing the game and the cheers coming from the stadium as the two centenarians thought about how to go about Bucky’s current dilemma. Until Steve broke the silence as he placed his empty beer bottle by the leg of the coffee table, “Why not just be honest and tell her you want to get back with her?”

“It’s not that easy,” Came his quick response; too quick, Steve suspected. Turning slightly to face him, he saw how Alpine now had Bucky’s attention as he baited his metal finger to the feline who was trying her best to bite on it, “It won’t be that easy, at least I think it won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I messed up,” He confessed quietly as he pursed his lips as he recalled how that night went.

“Bubba, did you happen to get the chocolate I asked to buy?” She asked after ruffling through all their cabinets twice, pouting as she failed to see the sweet she has been craving for. He was cleaning the litter box that was in their bathroom so his voice was faint but she heard it loud and clear, “I forgot to, bub; sorry ‘bout that!”

With a sigh, she closed the cabinet door and instead grabbed a glass of water before walking to the dining table, “It’s okay! I’ll just get some tomorrow or some other time.”

As he was washing his hands, he caught a faint glance of her disappointed frown on the mirror. For a few moments, he racked his brain for the other times wherein he saw her frown due to something he’s done. There were far too many instances that came into mind; Bucky didn’t like that at all.

Despite just drying off his hands with a hand towel, he could feel his flesh hand dampen with sweat as he approached her on the dining table and sit at the chair opposite from where she was — something that she noticed, tearing her eyes away from her laptop, making her feel that something was wrong, “You okay, Buck?”

“I think we need to break up,” Came his immediate answer as he stared at her eyes that showed sadness and grief. “What?” Was all that she could choke out as she pushed her laptop to the side so she could direct his attention to him fully.

“I think we need to break up,” He repeated, his voice sounded stronger and more determined than when he said it earlier; but it was just a front for his insecurities and doubts, “It’s something that we both saw coming, but we’re in denial of its approach.”

Tears were now freely falling out of her eyes as she struggled to get out a coherent response, “But Bucky, we can work it out. What is it? Where did I go wrong?” She was to add some more questions but she was stopped by her hiccups.

Both hands grasped hers and rubbed her knuckles soothingly to calm her down, “I’m sorry Y/N, but this is just for the best for the both of us. It’s better we part our ways now rather than later when my ivy has fully engulfed your brick walls that you have put up.”

Snatching her hands from his hold, she crossed her arms, “Don’t feed me that bullshit, Buck. tell me the real reason why you want us to split.” Gone was her earlier tone of sorrow and was now replaced with shaky strength.

When he just looked at her blankly silently, Y/N just bit her lip as she grabbed for her laptop as she scrolled for a certain email; and when she found it, she showed the screen to her now ex boyfriend, “Guess it was a wrong time to sign for a year-long lease huh?”

“We can still live together for the time being,” His immediate answer surprised the two of them and he decided to cover it up by explaining, “We don’t want to pay an additional fee for infringing the contract. Plus that saves us a whole lot of money for when we move out of here.”

Her mind was foggy with sadness which prevented her from thinking logically so she found herself nodding, “Okay, that makes sense.” She took her laptop from his look and began to search for a new bed frame and mattress. “I’ll move to the spare bedroom and get my things later on.”

Following her drying of tears, she now had a determined pout on her face as she began to scout new items for her bedroom, Bucky came to realize the weight of what he had just done. At the expense of her broken and devastated state, he spared his insecurities and doubts. But he didn’t feel even an ounce of relief, instead he just felt miserable seeing her become so detached from him; it’s your fault, you idiot, he scolded himself.

“Oh, okay. I’m just gonna lay down for a while,” She merely nodded when he stood from the his seat and grabbed Alpine that was on his playing with his toes; as he laid his back on the soft mattress were they both spent time and created some of their best memories, he couldn’t help cuddle the feline closer to him as he now looked back on those memories wistfully, “Looks like you’re gonna be my cuddle buddy from now on, Al.”

“Idiot!” Steve yelled after hearing the story and throwing the pillow back to Bucky with the cushion that was thrown to him earlier, “Let’s unpack what you did wrong here; one, you broke up with her because of your insecurities instead of working on it yourself or with her.”

Bucky had a deep scowl on his face and was about to rebut until Steve held a hand up to let him know he was not yet done listing things, “Two, you didn’t even really give her the option on whether she wanted to break up or what. And lastly, you decided to still live together despite splitting under the guise of not paying more due to infringing the lease and moving out, but you guys have two months left before you have to renew or end your contract! What the hell’s your plan after?”

When Steve said it like that, it did look even worse than it initially was. The former assassin could only groan out loud as he removed his hands from stroking Al’s whie fur and instead covered his face in shame, “I know! I was dumb, and still am! I just want Y/N back, okay?”

Steve silently chuckled as he took in his friend’s whine and Y/N’s stunned look as she had just arrived from going out. Noticing the lack of white fur ball on his lap, he removed his hands from shielding his face as he looked at Steve, and was puzzled when the blonde was smirking but did not have the cat.

“Where?” The question died on his throat as he heard her soft mewl and looked to his right to see Y/N cuddling Alpine in her arms, “Hi, I just got home.” The blank expression she had made it difficult for the two super soldiers to read her; Steve however knew that the two needed privacy in order to talk.

“Well I’m heading out,” The former Captain America stood up and patted his best friend’s shoulder as a way of saying goodbye and good luck, “See you both soon.” He kissed Y/N’s forehead goodbye and left the former lovers.”

“Do you want to talk about what I just heard you say or do you want me to forget about it, Buck?”

Being with her for nearly three years he knew that once her interest was piqued, it would be difficult for her to lose her interest in it as she would do anything to feed her curiosity. “What would you rather do?”

This was new, for the previous times they had confrontation he had decided for her; and to be able to choose for herself — and possibly for the both of them. “I’d like to talk about it; if it’s fine with you of course.”

He gestured for her to take the seat beside her — which she gladly took after placing her bag on the dining table and carrying Alpine with her. “I heard you saying you wanted me back — is there any truth to that?”

“Yes, there is,” He sounded a mixture of confident and desperate; but he didn’t care as he just wanted her back, “I want you back and it was a mistake on my part to let you go.”

“But why did you let me go?”

“Because I was an insecure, self-doubting coward. Do you remember the day when I broke up with you?” She nodded her head as she scoffed, “Obviously, I do.” Her sass had him chuckling, lightening up the mood a little. “Well that day, I saw the look of disappointment on your face when I failed to get you chocolate. I thought that if I can mess this small thing up, what more when it comes to more important things — like an anniversary, a mortgage payment, important events, and things like that.”

Her hands reached out for his and gently kissed the knuckles to calm him down as he was now breathing heavily as he continued to open up to her, “I always knew deep down in me that you deserved to be with someone as great as you; and believe me everyday I tried to be that person. But slowly I saw not only how I wasn’t living up to be the person you deserve, but somehow I just wasn’t making you happy any more.”

Despite letting out what he had been bottling up, Bucky felt both heavier and lighter; lighter because now he had told her the real reason as to why they fell out and what has been haunting his mind for months now. But the fact that she now had a say on what goes on between them made him even more anxious compared to how he would be when going on dangerous missions.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through this battle alone, bubba,” Her statement coupled with her use of their pet name for each other had his heart twisting in a good way, “I wished you had reached out to me so that we both could work through this.”

“You’re not mad? Or disappointed? Or disgusted with me?”

She shook her head as she once again placed a loving kiss on his knuckles, “Why would I do so? You were dealing with anxieties and doubts, I can’t exactly blame you for those can I?” He shrugged his shoulders as he avoided looking her in the eyes, “But still,” Came his weak reply.

Clicking her tongue, she wrapped her arms around him, bringing his head to her chest so she could cuddle and comfort him as they were somewhat laying down on the couch, “Next time you got something going in your head, you talk to me, okay?”

He nodded against her chest and he couldn’t hold back the soft whine of happiness when she kissed his forehead, “I meant what I said, that I want you back.”

“Are you sure that’s what you really want?” She stiffened against his hold; Bucky stood up from where laid comfortably and took her with him, looking her straight in the eye with passion, “It is, bubba. I swear.”

“I don’t know, Buck,” She replied weakly and avoided looking him in the eye, “Maybe this is just your way of easing your guilt and making amends with your past talking. You don’t have to lie, not to me.”

“It’s not, I promise,” He placed his hands on her waist, grabbing her to situate her on his lap, “I love you and I never stopped, nor will I ever. You are someone I can never get sick of — I will always want to be with you, no matter if we do something fun and exciting or something mundane and domestic. I want all of you and want to share my life with you.”

“But what happens when you get those thoughts again? Will you leave me hanging again?”

Hating how small and meek her voice was, he shook his head as he kissed the tip of her nose, “I won’t. Like you said, I’ll work on it alone and with you. I love you, bubba.” She could see no sign of lies or deceit in his eyes and loved what she was hearing — he was a man of his word and knew that he wouldn’t boldly claim such a thing if he had no plans of following through with it.

“I can give you time to think about it if you’d like,” The proposition left his tongue as she suddenly kissed his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him even more closer. He smiled into the kiss as he rubbed her back soothingly, missing the heat that radiated off her skin.

“No time needed to think about it, bub,” She breathed out after pulling away from the kiss, her lips still against his, “I want you back too.”

“I hope you’d still want me back even after my final confession.”

She pulled away from him completely so she could take in his nervous smirk, “What final confession?”

Scratching the back of his neck nervously, he disclosed, “I took the cardigan from the dryer.” She laughed at his silly confession before asking, “Why’d you do it, bubba? It smelt like you and I dressed it up on one of my pillows because I missed you.”

Slapping her hand to his pec, she pretended to be upset before laying her head on his chest, “Well I hope it made your lonely nights better! I had an important reason to wear that today.”

“Oh? And what could that be, missy?” He tickled her sides to get her to speak; after a fit full of laughters she did, “Well I was going out with Rachel and she decided to bring along her friend in hopes of setting me up with them.” By wearing the cardigan, Y/N knew that the person Rachel invited over would be less persistent to pursue since the words “James Buchanan Barnes’ property” were sewn on a patch on the clothing article — a gift Bucky gave her when they passed the one year mark of their relationship.

“So you were cheating on me!” He jokingly accused her to which she pinched his ears as she reminded him, “Excuse you! I was being set up with someone before we got back together — it’s not cheating you know!”

He too laughed at their whole debacle before he stroked her cheek with the flesh hand saying, “I missed you so much, bubba.” She was about to share the same sentiments before they got interrupted by a needy cat who placed herself in between Bucky and Y/N.

“I think Al missed being in the middle of our cuddle sessions too, bubba,” She noted as the cat purred when she and Bucky were scratching the space in between her ears.

With a large grin on his face, he tickled Alpine as he kissed Y/N fervently on the lips, “Look Al, we’re one, happy, and complete family again.”

#quietmyfearswith #please dont steal my work thank you #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #james barnes x reader #james barnes x fem!reader #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader angst

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commonwealthoccurences · 4 years ago

Text

What Doesn’t Kill You

CW: Pain, taking of medication, facial scar description

Word Count: 2,194

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort

Day: 5

Gage was perhaps the most difficult part of taking over the role of Overboss for Sole.

He was helpful, for the most part, in his signature gruff way, motivated by his own interests and wellbeing, for which they couldn’t blame him. He was well trained and well equipped, never seeming to get caught off guard in a fight, always quick to be on the defensive. He held his own with the raider gangs and their verbal abuse and the undermining words they threw at him. Gage, overall, was just fine.

Something about that bothered Sole. They had never met a plain person in the Commonwealth, for better or for worse. The trader that hoarded cats made a good cup of tea, the Diamond City school teacher could spin stories off the top of his head to rival Old World novels, and even Dogmeat seemed to hold a world of information in his big, brown eyes. And yet Gage kept to himself, kept quiet, and got the job done. That was it. It was dissatisfying, like an itch they couldn’t scratch; the more he brushed them off and held back, the more Sole desperately wanted to know. The more they wanted to earn their trust, and see his true personality, the person he kept locked away from the rest of the Commonwealth.

They weren’t obvious about it. Any outright questions were dodged or straight up ignored by Gage, so they’d long learned to be more tactical about their approach. Starting with small questions and working their way up. A casual conversation about preferring coffee or tea turning into a comment about sibling rivalry. And yet, as always, he was always one step ahead of them. He responded with a mere shrug when they brought up the difficulty of growing up with siblings. Simply twitched an eyebrow when they brought up a debate over which way of planting seeds was better, attempting to find out if he had previously been a farmer. Nothing.

They were desperate to know more about him, wanted to get inside his brain and unwind him from the inside. Eventually, they sat back and stopped asking questions, waiting for him to crack during the ensuing awkward silences. It was a waiting game to see who broke first.

It was an overcast day in the middle of July, the summer’s damp heat being threatened by an incoming group of storm clouds, cloaking the horizon’s sky dark gray, almost black. Gage and Sole were taking the day off for the most part, settling a few arguments between raiders and managing their plans for the future of Nuka World lounged in the Fizztop Grille. Gage’s boot-clad feet were propped up on an empty crate that once held bottles of Nuka Cola, his arms crossed behind his head, Sole laying across the couch across from him. “We should split the territory evenly so no one throws a tantrum.” They rolled a piece of mutfruit over their tongue before crushing it between their teeth with a spray of juice.

Gage watched them carefully, tensed as he attempted to ignore the pain that shot through his eye like lightning. It was sharp, spreading across his temple and forehead, and caused him to cringe. Stormy days never did good things to him.

Sole glanced up from the writing on the papers in front of them. “What’s wrong?” They swallowed the bit of mutfruit and sat up slightly to redirect their attention to Gage.

“What?” His voice was rough.

“You winced. What’s wrong?”

Gage rolled his eyes and got up, twisting his back into a stretch, and walked over to the kitchen area to grab a few Nuka Colas. On his way back to his seat he tossed one at Sole, not bothering to give them any warning for them to catch it, and settled back into his seat with a huff. They caught it on pure reflex and gave him a perturbed glare before they twisted the cap off. The ice cold bottle provided some relief from the pressing, wet heat that surrounded them at the top of the Grille.

They sighed. “Really, Gage. What’s up with you? You’ve been off all day.”

“It’s nothin’, Boss. What were ya saying about the territory?”

Even as he continued through the sentence he clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as he spit the words out. Sole caught their tongue between their teeth and narrowed their eyes at him, drumming their fingers against the cold glass of the Nuka Cola bottle, examining him carefully. Slowly, they eased upright and swung their legs off the couch to lean forward. He shook his head. “Seriously. ‘m just peachy, keep up with the business talk.”

Sole ignored him and eased themself to their feet, grasping their Cola and walking around the coffee table to stand in front of him. In the moment before they continued what they were doing he flinched again, hard, at the electric pain that shot through his eye. They pressed their lips together and nodded when his actions confirmed what they suspected and walked around to the back of his chair.

Carefully, they reached out and gently pressed the side of the Nuka Cola to his cheekbone and temple, sporting a crooked smile when he let out a quiet sigh of relief at the feeling. They smoothed a hand over the side of his neck and moved it down to rest on his shoulder lightly. Gage lost himself for a moment and tilted his head, leaning into the glass and subsequently their hand and closed his eyes. They trailed their fingers back up the skin of his neck and ran a fingertip across his jaw, then turned their hand to brush their knuckles over his cheek. He was drunk on the feeling momentarily, before he suddenly remembered himself. “What are ya doin’, Boss?” His voice was quiet, hesitant, like he didn’t even care enough to ask.

“Trying to get you to relax, at the very least.” Their voice had teasing undertones and he couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.

Breaking the moment, the pain flashed up again. They murmured sympathetically and ran a hand through his hair before pulling away. He started at the loss of contact, disappointed, despite the alarms that were blaring in his head. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry. Gonna get you some painkillers, alright? You’re taking the rest of the day off until this passes.”

“Storm’ll have t’ break.”

Sole hummed in response and began rummaging through their belongings, looking for pain relievers Curie had gifted them before they left Sanctuary for good. Supposedly, they didn’t do much damage to the internal organs like other wasteland medications, and when they used them once to ease a gunshot wound, it had worked like a charm. Despite the fact that they tried not to show it until that moment, they had a soft spot for Gage, and seeing him in pain was the very last thing they wanted; he deserved nothing but the best.

They returned soon after finding the small, rattling bottle and tapped a couple of pills into their hand as they took the steps to shadow Gage. A clap of thunder echoed out as they held their hand out over his shoulder, tilting their cupped palm when he reached up to take the pills from them. He threw them in his mouth and tipped his head back to dry swallow them, sighing when they finally went down. He paused for a moment, weighing his options. “I’m gonna fuckin’ regret this, but do you care if I take my eyepatch off? ‘s really not helpin’ the pain.”

Sole responded with a shrug. “Of course not.”

Gage hesitated with his hands poised over the offending metal, debating whether or not he was actually going to remove it. Politely, Sole averted their eyes so as not to put pressure on him, and returned to holding the Nuka Cola against his skin, though the initial ice-cold had faded into a light coolness, hardly keeping back the heat of the evening. The air was still thick with the promise of rain, the humidity choking, but hinting relief in the distant future. They closed their eyes and embraced the electrically charged atmosphere, acting oblivious to Gage’s movements as he unbuckled the leather strap that held his eyepatch on and turned to look at them.

It was something he didn’t reveal to anyone, his eye. Admitting weakness wasn’t exactly his thing, and that’s how he saw his marred eye, despite the way Sole would scold him for it, the scar jagged and harsh against the rest of his skin, his whited-out pupil. He preferred it hidden away, like the rest of his perceived weaknesses, but God was the pain killer whenever it decided to make a comeback, usually whenever a storm was moving in.

Sole’s eyes flickered open and they examined the rapidly darkening sky with a hum of approval, appreciating the way lightning flashed in the distance, barely visible against the horizon. He reached up and removed the soda from their grip, setting it on the table next to him before leaning back into their hand. This caught their attention and they looked down at him, smile brightening when they saw he’d felt comfortable enough to go through with removing his patch.

Their other hand moved up, slowly, to brush their thumb against the bottom of his scar, feather light. When he flinched they simply lowered their hand again to rest on his shoulder for a moment before they leaned down and brushed their nose against the skin just below his ear, tempted to leave a kiss behind, but terrified to overstep boundaries. After a moment of him holding his breath in suspense, they pulled away, their hand dragging across his shoulder as they left and moved to the front of the Fizztop Grille, and leaned against the wobbly railing.

A goddamn tease, as always. It seemed there was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they were allowed to tease, to push buttons and tiptoe the line, as long as things didn’t affect their professionalism amongst the raider gangs. The day that the raiders sensed a weakness they’d latch on with sharp fangs and wouldn’t let go until the soft spot was ripped apart.

Gage reached up and pressed his fingertips against his cheekbone just under his eye. The throbbing continued and he resisted the urge to knock his head against the table, inhaling sharply through his gritted teeth. This caught Sole’s attention and they turned away from the now-murky sky and raked their eyes over him in concern. “Lay down.” They instructed firmly, leaving no room for argument as they returned swiftly to stand next to the couch.

He eased himself out of the chair with an annoyed grimace and threw himself down on the couch. He regretted it instantly. Sure, Gage had no trouble making his displeasure at being ordered around known, though he was used to it, but maybe quick movements weren’t the best idea when it seemed his eye was trying to eject itself from his head. He rested his aching head against the arm of the couch and looked up at Sole with wary expectancy.

They tossed the long forgotten papers they’d been looking over earlier to the side and reached under the coffee table, fingers searching for something. Sole let out a pleased sound when they gripped a slick material and pulled, removing a book from the depths of the shelf and plopping their hips down next to Gage’s. “Move over.” They requested, a tad kinder in tone than their previous orders.

Reluctantly, he complied, and shifted himself further against the back of the couch. Sole swung their legs up next to his, not quite as reclined, their shoulder at eye level for him. After a moment of fumbling they arranged themselves comfortably on the cushioned fabric and Sole began flipping through the pages, working their teeth against the inside of their cheek absentmindedly. They reigned victorious as they flipped to the first page of their book and wiggled slightly to emphasize their comfort. Just as they cleared their throat, Gage piped up. “Ya gonna read to me? Not twelve, ya know.” His voice was a grumble, masking the slight bashfulness in his tone.

“You sure as hell act like you are. Now shut up and go to sleep, you big baby.” Their voice had little bite despite their words.

He resigned himself to his fate and attempted to relax into the furniture, his head leaned against their shoulder as they began to read aloud. It wasn’t long before the pain medication kicked in, coaxing him into fully easing his weight against them, his eyes drifting closed. Their voice was a pleasant hum as he drifted off, just as the tension in the air broke and rain began to pour down. The night passed with the thundering drum of rain, Gage pressed into Sole’s side, their arm wrapped around his shoulders, book folded against their chest from when they fell asleep reading, head tilted back against the arm of the couch.

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Fallout 4 February #Fo4f #Gage #Fluff #Hurt comfort #Oneshot #Imagine

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loveissupernatural · 4 years ago

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To Love in a Foreign Land

Draco Malfoy x reader

Chapter Three: Friends and Enemies

[ Read Part 1 here ] [ Read Part 2 here ]

You woke up bright and early the next morning, unable to sleep any longer because of the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The greatest adventure of your life was to start today; you’d get to ride on the Hogwarts Express, see the famous castle, and meet so many interesting new people. You took your time bathing, enjoying the scented wash you brought from home and letting the warm water relax your tense muscles. The bubbles from your magical soap floated through the air, sparkling and turning themselves into various shapes of magical creatures, earning an amused giggle from you.

Eventually you stood from the cooling bath water with a content sigh and dabbed your wet skin with a fluffy towel. You dried and lightly curled your hair with your favorite magical brush, although you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t wait to get to Hogwarts so you could just use your wand – it was so much faster and more versatile.

You applied your makeup the non-magical way, thinking of your mother as you did so. The summer after your father’s death, she’d come into your bathroom early one morning as you were brushing your teeth. She didn’t say much. She’d brought her set of makeup and sighed, reaching up to dry the fresh tears from your cheeks.

“Why don’t we do something fun?” she had offered, giving you a watery smile.

You’d spent at least two hours in the bathroom with her that rainy morning, learning all of her fun tips on how to apply makeup. It was the first time you’d smiled, really smiled, since your father’s passing.

It was a happy memory for you and a lovely bit of bonding time with your mom. In the years since, you’d learned a lot from No-Maj magazines and television shows on how to improve your makeup, and you’d even shown your mother the new tricks you’d learned. It was a regular thing now.

You decided to start thinking of something else, considering that you were doing your eye makeup and getting emotional would only make your mascara run. You applied your concealer, highlighter, and lipstick, then quickly sprayed your face with setting spray. You’d learned to apply your makeup magically from your friends at Ilvermorny, but you still enjoyed doing it the No-Maj way sometimes. The motions were repetitive and relaxing.

A quick knock at your door made you jump, but then you heard Eleanor’s sleepy voice.

“Hey, what’re you wearing today?” she asked through the door. You opened it to see her standing there in a fresh robe that matched your own, her hair still wet from the bath. “Oh, wow, you look great!”

“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Want me to do your makeup?”

“Oh geez, yes please,” she laughed, stepping into your room. She started shaking the towel through her wet locks as she observed the outfit laid out on your bed. “I suddenly hate every piece of clothing that I packed and I need all of the help I can get.”

“Sure,” you said, running a hand over your soft green t-shirt and fitted distressed jeans that were laid out. “I’m not going too fancy today, we’ll have to change clothes on the train after all. But I still want my look to be flattering, ya know?”

“Teach me, oh great one,” Eleanor grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

After helping her find a cute ensemble out of the incredible amount of clothes she’d managed to fit into her large trunk, you got dressed. The jeans hugged your hips and legs in all of the right places, showing peaks of skin here and there through the distressed fabric. You slipped on a pair of modestly-heeled black booties, giving you a bit of height and your backside a bit more definition. You tucked in your olive green cotton tee and smiled at your reflection. You thought you looked attractive yet approachable, which was exactly what you were going for.

Eleanor wasn’t much of a makeup wearer, but she asked you to help her apply the smallest bit. You brushed some mascara over her lashes and lightly tapped her cheeks with a bit of blush. She was happy with it.

“Oi, well don’ you two look brigh’ eyed,” Hagrid greeted as you and Eleanor met him downstairs by the bar. “Excited fer ya trip to Hogwarts, I reckon?”

“We’re so pumped,” you beamed, nodding in thanks as Hagrid bent to pick up your luggage with ease.

“Is the Hogwarts Express as beautiful as everyone says, Hagrid?” Eleanor asked. The both of you followed the large man out of the door, waving goodbye to a sleepy-looking Tom that was wiping the bar.

“Oh, she’s a beaut,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Had a bit o’ trouble fittin’ in th’ compartments after me firs’ year, but lots o’ good mem’ries on tha’ train.”

Kings Cross Station wasn’t a long walk from the Leaky Cauldron, considering Hagrid’s knowledge of some shortcuts not far from Diagon Alley. It was hard to keep up with his enormous strides, though. In no time, you all were walking into the sunlit and busy station, surrounded by bustling men and women on their morning commute. Many were staring at Hagrid, equally in awe and frightened.

“Now, yer gonna find Platform 9 ¾,” Hagrid told the two of you, leaning down to place your luggage at your feet. “You’ll know wha’ to do. Reckon you’ll see sum other students goin’ through.”

“Thank you so much, Hagrid,” you grinned, briefly squeezing his enormous arm. He smiled back kindly through the bushy beard.

“You rock, Hagrid,” Eleanor said. Hagrid tried not to beam, swatting his garbage lid-sized hand in modesty.

“It’s nothin’,” he grumbled. “I’ll see ya at Hogwarts, yeah?”

“See you later!”

Hagrid waved goodbye and turned, his long strides carrying him away from you in seconds flat.

“Hope everyone at Hogwarts is as nice as Hagrid,” you told Eleanor, turning to her and pulling out the Hogwarts Express ticket from your pocket. Platform 9 ¾ shined back at you in metallic gold lettering.

“Well, let’s get a luggage cart then try to find this weird-ass platform,” Eleanor sighed, picking up her luggage with a huff. You did the same, the two of you waddling towards a group of empty carts beside a nearby barrier. After loading all of your trunks, the two of you began searching for the magical barrier in the midst of all of the normal ones.

“I’m so glad that Cinna will be at the castle when we get there,” you mentioned absentmindedly. “She’d be hooting like crazy with all of this traveling.”

“Same with Bebe,” Eleanor agreed. Bebe was her black cat with piercing green eyes and a very fluffy tail. “She would be throwing a fit and attracting all kinds of unwanted attention.”

You stopped abruptly, throwing out an arm to stop Eleanor as well. Both of your trunks swayed dangerously on your luggage carts from the sudden motion.

“Hold on, there’s Platform 9,” you said, pointing toward the clearly numbered sign hanging from the brick barrier.

“And there’s 10,” your friend nodded, pointing as well. “Okay, now where’s ours?”

“Hagrid said we’d know what to do and to look for other students,” you said, almost to yourself. Your eyes darted around, looking for anyone that would stick out from the crowd. Wizards weren’t always the best at selecting inconspicuous No-Maj clothing.

“Let’s see who’s wearing something ridiculous,” Eleanor snorted, leaning on the handle of her cart and resting her chin in her hand. “Someone’s mom or dad is bound to be wearing a lime green fur coat or something.”

The two of you waited for a few minutes, watching the area around the barrier and nervously glancing at a nearby clock on the wall. It was drawing closer and closer to nine o’clock.

Just as you were beginning to worry that the two of you would miss the train, it happened. A group of girls that weren’t much older than you walked toward the platform, laughing at something casually. One leaned back against the brick between platforms 9 and 10, and boom, it happened. She disappeared through the wall. Each girl, in turns, subtly slipped out of sight, the surrounding No-Maj’s none the wiser.

“Thank goodness,” Eleanor sighed in relief.

The two of you approached the platform with caution, doing your best to remain inconspicuous. You’d learned after many years of living with your No-Maj mother that ordinary people tended to miss out on subtle magic even if it was happening right in front of them — because they weren’t looking for it.

You let Eleanor go first while you played lookout. She backed her cart against the barrier and leaned against it like the group of girls did. In a moment, she’d disappeared. You glanced around nervously, but no one had taken any notice. You breathed out a relieved sigh, then copied her movements exactly.

It felt like a warm, soft breeze as you sank through the brick. Suddenly, the station dematerialized and was replaced by a huge black steam engine and a bustling crowd of robe-clad witches and wizards. You grinned at Eleanor in excitement, looking up to see a red sign that read Platform 9 ¾ in slanted gold lettering. The platform was incredibly busy, filled with families hugging goodbye and the sound of rolling luggage and the hum of excited chatter.

“This is it,” you sighed dreamily. A huge smile broke over your face and Eleanor matched it. Your adventure to Hogwarts was officially beginning.

You and Eleanor rushed to the train in excitement, dragging your trunks along behind you. With a bit of difficulty, you both unloaded the carts and heaved your suitcases through the open door with the help of a station employee. Seeing your evident confusion, he told you in a thick Irish accent to take the trunk containing your school robes and to leave the rest with him.

The inside of the Hogwarts express was cozy, but not incredibly roomy, and you recalled Hagrid’s comment. You snorted at the mental image of the giant man trying to squeeze down the car hallway.

“Let’s find a compartment,” Eleanor whispered to you excitedly, grabbing your hand to pull you along. Her palm was sweaty and so was yours.

You both walked past many students in the train corridor, some looking at the two of you curiously. It was obvious that most of the students seemed familiar with who was in their year at this point, so two new faces that weren’t first years caught some attention. You heard some whispering as you passed, but none of it seemed unkind, at least that’s what you were hoping.

Some compartment doors were open, filled with chatting and laughing teenagers, others were closed. A few glanced curiously at you and Eleanor as you walked by and peered in.

“Is there not a single empty compartment on this train?” Eleanor complained, frustration seeping through her tone.

“Hey, maybe that’s a good thing,” you told her hopefully. “It’ll force us to talk to people, right? Maybe make some friends?”

“That’s all well and good,” she shrugged. “I was just kind of hoping we could avoid the staring for a while longer.”

You hummed in agreement. A few heads were poking out of compartments that the two of you had already passed, not bothering to hide their curious stares. You weren’t sure if you were flattered, uncomfortable, or a weird combination of both.

“I do feel a bit like a zoo animal,” you laughed uneasily.

“Damn it, Y/N, we should’ve looked less hot today,” Eleanor joked, lightly shoving your shoulder. “Now the Brits can’t keep their eyes off of us.”

You laughed aloud at her sarcasm.

“Are the two of you lost?”

You almost jumped in surprise at the unexpected voice coming from behind you. You turned to see a bushy-haired, proud-looking girl that was already in her Gryffindor robes with a shiny red badge pinned to her chest. A tall, freckled and red-headed boy stood behind her. He seemed a bit uneasy.

“Oh, hi,” you smiled, a bit surprised. “We’re just trying to find a compartment.”

The girl’s eyes lit up at your American accent, and the redhead suddenly seemed a lot more interested in the conversation.

“Are you two exchange students from Ilvermorny?” she practically gushed, clasping her hands together in excitement. You and Eleanor exchanged amused smiles.

“Yeah, that’s us,” you replied. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Well, the accent gives it away a bit,” the boy grinned, and the girl turned and lightly slapped his arm.

“I mean, it’s that obvious that we look lost?” you corrected yourself, laughing at his smart remark.

The girl smiled sympathetically. She reached out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Ronald Weasley. We’re Gryffindor prefects.”

Ron seemed to stand up a bit straighter at that and puffed out his chest. You and Eleanor each shook her hand in turn, introducing yourselves. Ron waved a bit awkwardly but not unkindly.

“So, what’s a prefect?” Eleanor asked curiously, pointing to the badges on their chests.

“We were chosen out of a select number of students in our year to guide our peers and help to uphold the rules,” Hermione stated proudly. “A boy and girl are chosen from each house. I’ve read about Ilvermorny, but couldn’t find anything about student guides.”

“In our fourth year, three students are chosen to help the younger kids with their studies and stuff,” you shrugged. “They’re a bit like glorified tutors, but I don’t know if that’s the same thing.”

Ron’s chest puffed out again, pride in his stance. “We do a bit more than that, I’d say.”

At Eleanor’s giggle, he seemed to remember that he needed to look cool and crossed his arms, leaning against the nearest compartment door as casually as he could. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, we’re here to help,” she said, an excited glimmer in her brown eyes. “There’ll be prefects to help you two in whatever house you’re sorted. But you’re always welcome to come to one of us! I’d absolutely love to hear all about America’s magical education. Doesn’t that sound positively fascinating, Ron?”

He shrugged, not hiding his disinterest well. She was obviously a bookworm and he very obviously was not.

“Anyway, there are normally a few empty compartments toward the back of the train,” Hermione said, seeming to remember that you four were standing in the middle of the almost empty hallway.

“Awesome, thanks,” Eleanor smiled.

“I’d truly love to stay and chat, but we’re expected in the prefect’s carriage,” she sighed apologetically, and you had no doubt that she really was sorry to miss the chance to ask you as many questions as possible. “It was lovely to meet you.”

“You too,” you said, and stepped aside so that Hermione and Ron could walk toward the front of the train.

The floor lurched, almost knocking you and Eleanor off balance, and the steam engine whistled. The train was slowly beginning to move.

“Hogwarts, here we come,” Eleanor squealed, clapping her hands. The two of you hugged in excitement, ignoring a few of the people still sneaking peeks at you from their open compartment doors.

You and your friend practically skipped down toward the end of the train, taking Hermione’s advice and finally finding an empty compartment. With a great heave, you swung your luggage up to the top rack and removed your wand from one of the zippered pockets. You hadn’t done magic all summer and the itch was almost irresistible. Eleanor was obviously thinking the same thing, flicking her wand silently at a small magazine she’d pulled from her bag.

“Did you ever get the hang of non-verbal spells?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of the magazine that lay motionless on the bench beside you.

“Eh,” you said noncommittally. You were modest. “We learned it right before break, and most of the class didn’t get it anyway. I’m always a bit rusty when summer ends.”

“Same,” she muttered, flicking her wand relentlessly in repeating patterns. But the magazine still didn’t move.

You pulled a book out of your trunk: Hogwarts, a History: The Revised Edition. You wanted to learn as much about the school as you possibly could before you got there. Not only would the knowledge make navigating the castle a bit easier, but you could almost feel your father inside of the pages. With every new experience, like meeting Hagrid, staying in the Leady Cauldron, and boarding the train, you felt closer and closer to him.

“Oh, shit!”

Eleanor’s scream made you jump, and you realized with a whiff of smoke that the magazine had burst into flames. You bolted out of your seat and quickly drew your wand.

“Aguamenti!” you exclaimed. Water rushed from your wand tip and extinguished the burning pages. You both were panting as you turned your irritated gaze to her. She grinned sheepishly.

“Told you I was rusty…”

“Were you trying to catch it on fire?” you questioned, adrenaline starting to retreat. Your heart was still pounding.

“Um, no,” she practically whispered. “I was trying to freeze it.”

You snorted, holding back a laugh. “Keep that up and you won’t end up in Ravenclaw.”

“I’m just nervous! Horned Serpent won’t let me down. I’m sure the Sorting Hat will see that.”

She waited for you to agree, craving your confirmation. You smiled at her, understanding her nerves. You were not-so-secretly terrified that the hat wouldn’t be able to sort you at all.

“Of course it will be able to tell,” you said kindly, and Eleanor let out a breath she’d been holding.

Determined to help her with her uneasiness, the two of you practiced simple non-verbal spells for the next forty minutes or so. When you froze a magazine page on your first try, Eleanor seemed to deflate. You then purposefully messed up on every attempt until she successfully covered a page in ice. She pumped a fist into the air, overjoyed. You smiled.

Then your compartment door slid open, revealing the bushy-haired prefect.

“Hello,” she smiled. “Our prefect meeting just finished. Would you like to join us in our compartment?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, thankful that a kind student was already taking you and Eleanor under their wing.

The two of you pulled your belongings down from the racks above your seats and followed Hermione down the hallway. The compartment was only a few paces away from yours.

She slid open the door and walked inside, reaching to help Eleanor slide her trunk onto the overhead shelf. A boy with dark, somewhat messy hair and glasses looked up in surprise. He was sitting across from Ron, the redhead that you’d met earlier. Ron greeted you with a short wave, whispering something quickly to the raven-haired boy.

“Don’t be rude, introduce yourself,” Hermione scolded. She sounded like a disappointed mother.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” the green-eyed boy muttered. He stood and stuck out his hand, albeit awkwardly. “I’m Harry.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you smiled, shaking his hand. It was calloused, but warm.

“Eleanor,” your friend said, shaking his hand as well.

“They’re exchange students from Ilvermorny,” Hermione gushed, sitting down beside Ron. You sat down on the opposite bench next to Harry, then Eleanor sat beside you. “Isn’t that so exciting?”

Harry looked mildly confused. “Ilvermorny?”

“Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Hermione said, waiting for him to catch on. He didn’t. “It’s the magical school in America,” she explained, looking a bit put out that he didn’t know this. “Honestly, Harry, we learned about other wizarding schools from Professor McGonagall last term, remember? After Christmas she posted the I.W.S.E.P. signup sheet in the common room.”

“I was a bit distracted with the tournament last year,” Harry said, a bit defensive because of her gaze.

Hermione sighed, suddenly looking sad. She looked to Ron expectantly. “You remember, don’t you, Ronald?”

Ron grinned uneasily. “Sure, yeah. Good ole I.W.S.E.P.”

“What does I.W.S.E.P. stand for, Ron?” she asked flatly.

“Uh… well, International, uh, Witch… Witch Switching Event—?”

“Honestly! Just admit you didn’t listen either, Ron!”

“It’s not a big deal,” you cut in, grinning uneasily. “Most of my house didn’t listen either. A lot of the students who ended up doing the exchange program already knew about it way beforehand. I’d decided I was going by my third year.”

Hermione was suddenly very interested in what you had to say, and Ron shot you a thankful look. You could see that Harry was doing his very best not to laugh at Ron.

“Tell us all about your school!” Hermione squealed, scooting to the edge of her seat and resting her chin in her hands. She reminded you of a small child watching their favorite television program. “What’s it like? I’ve read all about the sorting process, it is absolutely fascinating. And that you don’t receive your wand until after your sorting ceremony?”

“Wow, you know a lot about it,” Eleanor said, mildly impressed.

“Hermione knows loads,” Ron interjected. Hermione tried to hide her flattered grin, but the slight flush of her cheeks betrayed her.

Harry was looking out the window, his brow furrowed. His mind was obviously elsewhere.

“Well,” you began, looking away from Harry and back to Hermione and Ron, “Ilvermorny is modeled after Hogwarts, ya know, so not too much is different.”

“Oooh, yes, I read about that too,” Hermione nodded. “The founder, Isolt Sayre, dreamed of going to Hogwarts in her childhood, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “that’s why one of our uniform colors is blue. She wanted to be a Ravenclaw.”

“Same,” Eleanor sighed. Hermione grinned at her.

“Are you academically inclined?” she asked Eleanor.

“I’d like to think so,” Eleanor shrugged. “I’ve just heard that my house, Horned Serpent, and Ravenclaw are kind of alike. I’ll be happy no matter what house I’m sorted into, but I think Ravenclaw may feel a bit more like home.”

“I was almost sorted in Ravenclaw,” Hermione said, and you weren’t surprised.

“Really? Then why are you in Gryffindor?” Eleanor asked, scooting to the edge of her seat too.

“I chose it,” she said simply. “Books and cleverness are important, of course, but there are more important things.”

“So, the Sorting Hat will let you choose your house?” you asked quickly. Hermione noticed the desperate twinge in your tone.

“Well,” she said gently, “to a degree. But only if you truly belong there.”

You sighed. Hermione looked at Eleanor questioningly.

“She’s nervous that she won’t be sorted,” Eleanor explained, rolling her eyes but squeezing your arm.

“Everyone gets sorted,” Ron assured, certainty lacing his tone. “My whole family’s been in Gryffindor, I remember as a First Year being terrified that I was gonna end up in another house. But it all works out, doesn’t it?”

“Why are you afraid that you won’t be sorted?” Hermione asked curiously.

You shrugged, tucking your hair behind your ear shyly. You never enjoyed talking about this, afraid that you’d come off as bragging.

“Well, this thing happens at Ilvermorny sometimes, during the sorting ceremony,” you began hesitantly. Harry turned his head towards you, the conversation catching his interest. “It doesn’t happen super often…”

“Like, once every decade or two,” Eleanor added. You blushed a bit.

“More than one house can choose you,” you explained, wringing your hands together. “The houses show that they want you when their wooden statues come to life. You stand in the middle of the circle and the whole school is watching from the side and the balconies above.”

“Do you have four houses like we do?” asked Ron.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Horned Serpent, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, and Wampus.”

“What happens if more than one house chooses you?” Harry asked. Hermione seemed glad that he was taking part in the conversation, relieved even. You wondered why.

You turned to Harry. “If more than one house chooses you, then the student gets to choose where they want to go.”

“A bit like the Sorting Hat,” Hermione added. “So, what happens once every ten years?”

“It’s not uncommon for more than one house to choose a student,” Eleanor said, “but it only happens once every few years that three houses will show interest. Even rarer that all four want someone.”

“All four wanted me,” you said quietly, a bit embarrassed by the attention. Ron’s eyebrows shot up and Hermione seemed very impressed. Harry seemed impressed as well, exchanging a loaded glance with Ron.

“Imagine the Sorting Hat announcing that it can’t decide,” Ron said to Harry, laughing in disbelief. “Can you imagine? I think McGonagall’s head would explode.”

“Has that ever happened?” you asked worriedly. “I mean, what if the Sorting Hat doesn’t know where to put me?”

“It’s never failed to sort a student in Hogwarts’ history,” Hermione assured you, putting a comforting hand on yours before pulling it away. “I’m quite certain it would just allow you to choose.”

You sighed.

“What house did you go with?” Harry asked you.

“Thunderbird,” you answered, a smile creeping onto your face. You were proud of your house.

“And what kind of person goes to Thunderbird?” asked Ron.

“Well, it’s said that Thunderbird leans toward adventurers and represents the soul.”

“The soul?” asked Harry, brows pulling together.

“The houses at Ilvermorny aren’t exactly like Hogwarts,” Eleanor explained, biting her lip as she thought. “I’m not sure how to explain it. Ilvermorny houses are said to represent parts of a human being. Horned Serpent usually leans toward scholars, so it represents the mind. Wampus leans toward warriors, so the body. Thunderbird favors adventurers, so the soul. And Pukwudgie favors healers, so people who lead with their heart.”

“It’s such an interesting take on things, don’t you think?” Hermione said dreamily to no one in particular. She was like a sponge, soaking up every word that came out of your mouths.

“Why did you go with Thunderbird?” asked Harry.

“People ask me that a lot,” you smiled. “What I told Eleanor is… I guess I see the soul as the root of everything? I mean, it all goes back to that. When we’re born, when we die, our souls are who we are at the most fundamental level. They last long after we leave this earth.”

Harry sighed, nodding almost imperceptibly. His eyes were filled with some sort of pain that he was making an effort to hide. Ron and Hermione watched him, concerned.

“I think that’s a lovely sentiment,” Hermione said to you, “that souls are the beginning and never-ending. That the people we care about never really leave us after they die.”

You smiled, your father’s joyful face flitting through your mind. “Yeah. That’s actually one of the reasons I wanted to come to Hogwarts. My dad was a student here.”

“Blimey, really?” Ron laughed. “Knew you weren’t so bad, you’ve got a bit of Brit in you.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, Hermione turning to Ron and slapping his arm again. You gathered that this was a common occurrence between the two.

“He was in Hufflepuff,” you said.

“Oh, Gryffindors get along swimmingly with Hufflepuffs,” Hermione chirped. “We normally have a few classes together every term.”

“Bet your dad’s rooting for you to get sorted into Hufflepuff, yeah?” Ron questioned.

Eleanor looked down at her shoes, clearing her throat uncomfortably. You bit your lip and Hermione seemed to instantly detect that something was wrong. Ron, of course, was oblivious.

“Uh, actually, he died a few years ago,” you said quietly. Harry turned to look at you, understanding in his green eyes.

“Oh, damn. Sorry,” Ron mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“No, you’re fine, Ron,” you said quickly. “It’s not like it’s a taboo subject or anything. I just don’t talk about it much is all.” You shrugged halfheartedly. “I should probably get used to talking about it more anyway, I guess, now that I’ll be at a new school where my dad used to go. I’m just hoping to, I don’t know, get closer to his memory somehow? I know it sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Harry said quickly. You were a bit surprised by the intensity of his tone. “When I hear things from the professors about my mum, or see a Quidditch trophy that my dad won, I can feel it. Like I’m getting a glimpse at them.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged sad glances. You didn’t miss the gloomy air that the three were giving off.

“Your parents…?” you asked quietly.

“Are dead, yeah,” he answered. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and then you saw it. With an audible gasp, you didn’t understand why you didn’t realize it before. He’d introduced himself as Harry, after all.

“You’re – oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” you stammered, “… that was a stupid question, I shouldn’t have asked. I just didn’t know who—who you were.”

Eleanor seemed confused, then her eyes fell upon the lightening scar that was no longer hidden underneath his dark hair. Her mouth dropped open quite unabashedly.

“It’s alright,” Harry shrugged. “It was actually sort of nice, meeting people who didn’t instantly know who I was.”

“Well, uh, it’s cool to meet you,” you said awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah! Like, beyond cool,” Eleanor grinned behind you.

You couldn’t believe this whole time that you were discussing worries as silly as sorting to The Boy Who Lived, the boy who, as a baby, defeated You-Know-Who and survived the Killing Curse. Your problems and fears must seem so small and trivial to him.

Harry offered an awkward but understanding smile. You realized that he must deal with this reaction every time he met someone new. It must’ve been exhausting.

Just then, the compartment door flew open with an unpleasant bang. In strutted two large boys that reminded you of stunted gorillas, following a familiar handsome face and perfectly styled light blonde hair. The atmosphere of the compartment poisoned; you could feel the instant shift in the air. Your three new friends were glaring at Draco Malfoy with all of the hatred and disgust they could possibly muster. You exchanged a glance of recognition with Eleanor, the two of you sinking back into your seats to avoid whatever confrontation was obviously coming.

“Potter,” Draco spat, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse, “just thought I’d drop by to show you this.” He stood up straighter in his fitted black suit, a green prefect pin glinting on his chest. “Someone needs to remind you of your superiors.”

“Big whoop, Malfoy, we’re prefects too,” Ron spat back, pointing to the pin on his chest. Malfoy sneered.

“Obvious lack of judgement, Weaselby,” he smirked. His grey eyes pierced through Hermione, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “If they allow mudbloods to be prefects now, then what’s a blood traitor?”

You and Eleanor gasped at his use of the slur. Even then, he didn’t seem to notice the two of you, too intent on causing chaos.

“And what does that say about you, Potter?” he smirked nastily. “That they get chosen as prefects over you? Not Dumbledore’s little golden boy anymore, are you?”

Draco’s cronies laughed behind him, fueling his ever-deepening smirk.

Harry shot up from his seat, rage radiating off of him in waves that were almost visible. This was obviously what Malfoy came for. His face was twisting into a superior smile. Harry’s wand was clutched in his shaking fist.

“At least my father’s not a cruel, murdering, prejudiced piece of—”

“Harry, he’s not worth it,” Hermione begged, standing to grab Harry’s arm and pull him back.

“Keep my father’s name out of your mouth, Potter,” Draco threatened. He stepped closer to Harry as Hermione continued to attempt to pull her friend back with little success. Harry’s grip tightened on his wand so much that his fingers turned white, causing a few sparks to fly out of the tip. Malfoy’s cronies were beginning to crack their knuckles in anticipation.

You weren’t sure when you decided to do this, or why in the hell you thought it was a good idea, but you suddenly stood. Malfoy and his bodyguards finally seemed to realize that there were two other people in the compartment. Recognition flitted across his face, and you knew that he recognized you from the day before in Madam Malkin’s.

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think anyone in this compartment gives two damns that you’re a prefect, Draco,” you snapped, a confidence in your voice that you certainly weren’t feeling. Harry, Ron, and Hermione gaped at you in shock, both surprised by your involvement and the fact that you even knew who Malfoy was.

Draco was taken off guard, but quickly recovered.

“I heard whispers of Americans on the train,” he said unkindly, eyes glinting but holding the slightest bit of fascination. “I suppose Hogwarts is officially scraping the bottom of the bin nowadays.”

Anger curdled in your stomach and boiled in your blood. You could easily see why Harry was so quick to anger the moment Malfoy stepped into the compartment—he was getting under your skin, too.

“Well, I guess they are if you’re here,” you said, crossing your arms, “and named a prefect no less? They’re obviously lowering their standards. I mean, damn, I just met you and I already think you’re a waste of space.”

Ron snorted behind you, not bothering to hold back his laugh. Hermione even had to slap a hand over her mouth not to giggle. Draco’s scowl was venomous, far more intimidating than the one he’d given you in the robe shop when you’d called him an asshole.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he said, dangerously quiet. His blue-grey eyes drilled into you, and the most conflicting sensation of butterflies and hatred trickled from your stomach to your toes. “Already associating with mudbloods and blood traitors before you even hit the grounds? Pity.”

“Ya know, I really don’t like that word,” you said, sickeningly sweet. Your wand was at Malfoy’s throat before anyone could react, and Draco’s cronies didn’t seem to know what to do. They drew their wands and pointed them at you, looking at each other with confusion.

Draco’s surprised eyes were locked with yours, his chin tilted up and his Adam’s apple bobbing with a nervous gulp. He was doing his best to act tough, but you could tell that he was uneasy. He didn’t know you and didn’t know what you were capable of. He had been banking on a fight with Harry, not on a fight with you.

“Nah ah ah,” you smiled, shaking your head at the drawn wands of the gorillas flanking him. You pointedly twisted the tip of your wand into Draco’s neck a bit – not enough to hurt him, of course, but enough to make your point. “I’ll hex him before you can even open your mouths.”

They exchanged fearful glances again, their wands wavering. Draco didn’t dare turn his head to look at them, but seethed through his teeth, “Lower your wands, you morons!”

They did as they were told, and you smiled at them. “That’s better.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t seem to know what to do either, but their faces were filled with gleeful astonishment. Eleanor was staring at you in awe. You didn’t blame her; you weren’t one to get into fights at Ilvermorny. Actually, you’d never been in a fight; you’d never done anything like this. But the adrenaline rushing through your veins was a heady combination when it mixed with the butterflies dancing in your gut.

“You know what my specialty is, Draco?” you asked, tapping your wand teasingly against his Adam’s apple. He gulped again and closed his eyes, breathing loudly through his nose. “I’m pretty good with non-verbal spells. You’d never know what was coming.”

He nervously licked his lips and stared back down at you, eyes filled with distaste, anger, and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

“And non-verbal as in, ya know, making you non-verbal,” you added with a smirk reminiscent of his own, pressing the tip of your wand into the side of his neck. Again, not enough to hurt him, but enough to make his heart race. Yours was racing too.

You had no idea where this surge of confidence was coming from, but you sure as hell weren’t stopping now.

“If I hear that nasty, disgusting word come out of your mouth again… well, you won’t be saying anything for a while,” you whispered sweetly. Draco’s clenched jaw, the vein popping out of his neck, his furrowed brows and gaze so intense that you couldn’t distinguish between the adrenaline and the butterflies anymore – you realized with overwhelming shame just how hot you thought he was.

You hated yourself.

“You’ll regret this,” he whispered venomously, meant for your ears only.

“Will I really?” you asked, tapping the wand against his throat again. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for your wordless hex. You stood there for a moment, anticipation building, letting him think that you were going to do it. Then, with a satisfied laugh, you lowered your wand and stepped back. You’d never planned on hexing him, not really, but you wanted him to know that you could, at any moment, without any incantation to warn him.

Draco’s eyes popped open, feeling the sudden loss of contact. He let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, reaching up to rub at his neck. He eyes darted around the compartment, taking in the smug faces of the Gryffindors and the confused faces of his cronies. With intense anger, he realized just how embarrassed he was.

“You better watch your back, Potter!” he spat, pointing a pale finger at Harry’s amused face. “Your luck is running out. He’s got plans for you. He’s going to kill you, just like your boyfriend.”

Harry’s face darkened. Then Draco’s furious eyes darted to you.

“And you,” he whispered spitefully, “you’ll regret ever leaving your backwoods trailer!”

You had no doubt that he meant it, but you hid your apprehension at his words, only raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.

With that, he stomped off down the hall, tailed closely by his muddled friends. You could hear him cursing the whole way.

“Y/N!” Eleanor breathed in disbelief, gripping your arm like a vice and dragging you down to the seat beside her. “What the actual fuck was that? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was pretty awesome—but what the fuck?!”

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat in joy. “Will you marry me?”

You all busted into laughter.

“Malfoy might have it out for you even more than Harry,” Hermione giggled, but there was an air of uneasiness. “Not that I don’t think you’re capable of defending yourself, but are you sure that was clever? He’ll be out for blood now.”

“Come on, Hermione,” Ron rolled his eyes, “you’re ruining the moment!”

“Yeah, take the victory, Hermione,” Harry agreed with a grin.

________________________

Thirty minutes later, Harry grabbed a silvery-looking cloak from his trunk, tucking it under his arms and murmuring something about returning in a few minutes. You didn’t think anything of it, but Ron and Hermione seemed a bit skeptical and irritated by the action.

The rest of the train ride was peppered with questions about Hogwarts and Ilvermorny, funny quips about what happened with Malfoy, and a delicious helping of sweets from the friendly trolley witch. Harry never returned.

You hadn’t realized just how much time had passed when Hermione stood up and stretched, instructing Ron to change into his robes. They needed to go back to the prefect carriage toward the front of the train before arrival, she explained. She recommended that you and Eleanor change into your school robes as well.

The Hogwarts Express pulled into a small wizarding village called Hogsmeade at dark, just as you finished adjusting your new robes and helping Eleanor fix her hair. You could hear the chuga-chuga of the wheels slow, and the train lurch as it came to a full stop. Compartment doors were banging open and students were talking, laughing, and running down the hallways as they trickled out of the train.

You and Eleanor grabbed your luggage, stuffed your wands into the pocket of your robes, and set out into the night. The enormous castle loomed before you, quite visible from the village. The lit windows winked at you against the backdrop of the inky night sky.

“It’s Hogwarts,” Eleanor whispered in awe.

You were content.

[ Read Part 4 here ]

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leilabeaux · 4 years ago

Text

Luck Be a Lady

Chapter Four

Masterlist | One Two Three

Pairing: Alex x Reader

Word Count: 2161

Summary: Reader has some regrets and she learns something new about Alex.

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: And this is where I leave you. ::tips hat and rides off into the sunset:: On a real note, sorry for the lack of updates. Work and personal life has been hectic and wearing your girl down.

----

The bright lights of the Vegas Strip illuminated the living room enough that you didn’t bother turning on any lights as you left your bedroom. Now dressed down in your worn-out, oversized hoodie and pajama shorts, you walked over to the wet bar and pulled a bottle of vodka down from the shelf, not caring how overpriced it was. You thought about grabbing a glass but instead shrugged and took a swig straight from the bottle.

Settling on the wide marble ledge, you looked past your reflection in the window to peer down at the sparse traffic on the streets. You felt so physically drained after all the tears you’ve shed. You rubbed your bare face in embarrassment, mortified over letting all your emotions get in the way and ruining what was otherwise a nice evening.

Now that you weren’t in the middle of a panic attack, you regretted reacting too quickly when you told Alex to leave. You wished you could have him come back or at least text him so you could explain yourself but you two never took a moment to exchange numbers. Not like it would make much of a difference anyway, you were sure he was grateful to get some distance away from your crazy ass.

You didn’t bother looking over when you heard the door unlock and open. The clicking of heels confirmed it was your best friend doing her walk of shame, or stride of pride as she lovingly called it.

“So I didn’t see any sign of your Lover Boy when I snuck out of Marco’s room,” Bianca teased. You could hear her plop down onto the couch and then soft thuds of what you assumed were her shoes being dropped on the floor. “Is he here? Did you wear him out? Why are we sitting in the fucking dark?”

Light had filled the room after she clicked on a lamp. Although you were no longer crying, you knew your red, puffy eyes would give you away when you turned to look at her.

“Oh my god! What the fuck happened?” She rushed over to join you on the ledge. “What did that fucker do?”

“He didn’t do anything,” you gave a small smile, trying to put her worries to rest but as all the emotions from the night went through you again, you couldn’t stop your eyes from welling up.

Bianca wrapped her arms around you, comforting you until you were ready to talk. Her hand rubbed your back as you softly sniffled into her shoulder.

“What happened, sweetie? Are you sure he didn’t do anything? Because I won’t hesitate to put my shoes back on and kick his ass if I need to.”

“No, Alex was sweet and a total gentleman the entire night. So you can calm down with all of that.” You pulled away from her, drying your face with the back of your sleeve before giving her a quick run through of your night. “We were kissing and everything was good and...I don’t know. It felt familiar.”

“Familiar how?”

“It was like being with Trevor again. I know him and Alex couldn’t be anymore different but it somehow felt the same. And then all I could think of was him and how much I missed him. I just felt guilty like I was cheating on him.”

Bianca shook her head as she took your hand in hers. “Y/N, you have nothing to feel guilty about. Trevor's been gone for almost two years now. It’s perfectly fine to move on whether if it’s a relationship or just sex. I know he would want you to be with someone who makes you happy.”

“It still feels too soon, maybe I’m not ready to be with anyone. Ugh, as if being with Alex would be possible especially after I freaked out on him,” you clasped your hand on your forehead, grimacing over that memory. “And I basically told him I was married.”

“What? Why?” Bianca looked at you like you were crazy.

“He saw my ring and asked how long I was married. So I told him eight years.” It technically wasn’t a lie. You had been married for about eight years before a deputy stood at your doorstep, telling you that your husband would never be returning home. “You know I hate the pitiful look people give me when they hear I’m a widow. And I thought it would be easier to push him away if I pretended that I was a faithful wife. But fuck, man, I couldn’t even keep that up!”

“It’s not too late to tell him all of this. I think I might remember what room they’re staying in.”

“Okay, even if he doesn’t think I’m crazy after all of that, I don’t think me and him would work. He’s young and I barely had the patience to deal with Trevor when he was that age. And he doesn’t even live in this country,” you tried to reason with her and maybe with your heart.

“Okay, he’s young and he doesn’t go here. So what?”

“I just think getting into a long distance relationship after losing your husband is a disaster.”

“Or it could be something beautiful. I’m sorry, Y/N. But if this boy could give even a fraction of happiness that Trevor gave you, then I’m all for it.”

You gnawed on your lip as you considered what she was telling you. You were too scared to take the risk. You were convinced that it would only end in heartbreak and you weren’t sure if you had enough strength to deal with another one of those again.

“I think I’m just too tired to deal with any of this right now...or ever.” You turned toward the window, staring at your worn down reflection. Definitely too damn tired.

——

The snow outside of your kitchen window was coming down hard and didn't show any signs of stopping. You sighed to yourself while emptying the remainder of the wine bottle into your glass, silently praying that you wouldn’t find yourself snowed in in the morning.

You sat on the couch, pulling the cozy throw up to your chin and trying to get comfortable while your lovable dog and cat duo, Dallas and Leeloo, were busy fighting over the spot next to you. Unfortunately for the young feline, it seemed like the elder Labrador was coming out to be the winner.

You sipped on your wine as you scrolled through Hulu for something to distract you from your headache of a night—your first and definitely last Tinder date.

You had spent twenty embarrassing minutes waiting for your date to return after he excused himself to the restroom. There was no devastation on your part. You didn’t feel the same chemistry in person that you had over messages but you were willing to at least wish him a good night like a decent person. You deleted the app on your way out, already convinced that nothing good would be coming from it.

You weren’t even mad at this guy. All of your annoyance was aimed at Bianca who had spent the last six months encouraging—nagging and begging—you to go out and start dating. She claimed that it was officially time for you to start moving on but you suspected she just wanted you to see how wrong you were for letting the potential Mr. Right in Vegas get away.

You’d never tell her but she was right and you didn’t need a string of bad or mediocre dates to find that out. The nights you used to spend in bed wondering how life would be if Trevor was still alive were now spent thinking of what could have been with Alex. From the small amount of time you spent with him, you knew he would be the caring, supportive boyfriend who’d hang on every word you said and whisper into your ear to ease any of your self doubts and do anything to make you smile.

You had tried to search for him with the very minimal details you knew about him, during one very lonely night spent with a bottle of whiskey, but none of the Copenhagen based photographers named Alex turned out to be the one you were looking for. It shouldn’t have been too shocking but your drunk self still took it a bit hard, spending part of the night lying on the kitchen floor and crying into Dallas’s fur.

You gave up on finding something uplifting to watch and settled with the historical drama you had been slowly working your way through the past few months. You originally didn’t think a show about Vikings would be your cup of tea as you were more of a sucker for the period pieces with more extravagant, vibrant costumes but it came highly recommended by your Vegas fling. He said it was a pretty good show. After three seasons and nine episodes, he definitely wasn’t wrong.

You were down to the last ten minutes of the episode where Bjorn was going up to his brothers’ cabin. You had downed the rest of your glass only to spit it all out, your pets scurrying away to avoid the spray, when grown Ivar rolled over to show his face.

“What...the fuck?” You whispered to yourself as the scene cutaway. Your mouth hung open and your eyes were glued to the screen.

“What the fuck?” You repeated again when you saw Marco on the screen next to Alex. “Why would they do that to his hair?”

As soon as the episode ended, you sat still with your brow furrowed. You went through all the conversations you had and didn’t remember him saying he was an actor nor that he starred in this “pretty good” show.

You grabbed your phone to do a quick google search of who played Ivar. Alex Høgh Andersen. This entire time you had access to his name. If only you had given in to your urge to binge watch the show in one sitting you would have had it sooner.

You pulled up your Instagram and typed in his name. As you were about to click on his account, you quickly changed your mind and threw your phone next to you on the couch as if it scorched you. You weren’t seriously going to stalk this man on the internet, you were a whole grown woman who was definitely too mature to be drooling over some pictures.

Getting up to get ready for bed, you left your phone where it was so it would be less of a temptation. But you found that you couldn’t help but stare at it through the mirror as you aggressively brushed your teeth. Your curiosity was beginning to get the best of you.

You quickly rinsed out your mouth and walked toward your couch but then turned around, shaking your head as you headed down the hall to your bedroom. Leeloo and Dallas sat next to each other in the living room, both looking down the hall and not bothering to follow as if certain you’d be back.

“I’m just going to look at a few pictures. Just see what he’s been up to,” you explained to no one when you returned for your phone. Standing in the middle of your living room, you looked through his posts from the funny videos to his beautiful photography. You thought maybe you spent too much time scrolling through when you found yourself unable to stop staring at his well defined arm as he hovered over a mattress.

It wouldn’t be too crazy if you sent him a message to catch up and see how he was doing. Or would it? What would you even say? “Hi, remember me? The woman you ate out in Vegas. You know the one who broke down before you got a chance to get it in? Oh, and remember how I said I was married? Surprise! I’m actually a widow and lied because I got scared over you being so into me and even more scared when I realized I may have felt the same.”

You kept going back and forth over what you should really say to him, typing one thing only to immediately delete it. Seemed like anything you wrote came out sounding awkward or just dumb.

“Hi, I’m not sure if you remember me? It’s Y/N. The baker you met in Vegas.” It was enough to start a conversation but would he think you’re only contacting him because you now knew he was an actor. Your thumb hovered over send as you contemplated your choice.

You looked up at the clock and sighed out loud. You couldn’t afford to waste anymore time on this unless you wanted to be a zombie when you went into work in the morning.

You brought your thumb down and hit send. Fuck it.

----

End Notes: This is the last chapter of this part but not the end of their story. So don’t be too mad at me. Will Alex read her message? Will they ever meet again? Does Reader need to tell Bianca that she was right?

Tags: @castielsangelsx @xbellaxcarolinax @didiintheblog @jzr201 @kaitieskidmore1 @eroguroshoujo

#alex høgh andersen #alex høgh andersen x reader #alex høgh andersen imagine #alex høgh x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader

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kaiju-z · 4 years ago

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Seon Adventures Episode 38: Bathhouses and Bonds

After a month of travel, successfully retrieving the King’s Blade, Ena, learning who their client is, i. e. Akar’Niel and choosing to learn more about the circumstances of the mass elimination of dwarves and dragonborn on Seon, the party have reached Guan.

And straight off the bat, no pun intended, the group discover they are followed by an imp. After a quick discussion on whether to take it down or not, Malak stils his hand from sending the denizen of Hell back home, as it approaches the group.

Through a quick inspection of the party, the shape changing critter flies over to Mournimar and delivers the Tiefling Ranger a Sending Stone, of a blue diamond make. After which it does a JoJo pose and poofs.

As stated previously, this was a Sending Stone, allowing someone to cast 2 sending messages a day. But only to the person that has the other one. Rocky Talkies, as Malak puts it. (Or Hayden, I’m not sure. They’re both wholesome and we love them).

Mournimar gets that explained to him and calls the person that gifted it to him. And he hears a familiar voice from the other end say " Well you are alive, then!”. Much to the tiefling’s frustration, he recognizes the voice as that of his ex-boyfriend, Lazarus, follower of Potencia.

Mourni tries to ask what he wants, but instead Lazarus does the “kh-kh” noise (you know the one, where someone does a double pistols and a wink???) and that’s about all the messaging that goes on for that day.

Again. Much to Mournimar’s frustration.

Malak suggests getting rid of the stone. But Mournimar wants to keep it.

Luck suggests flipping a coin and he even brings one out from his journal bag. But Jun suggests Mournimar hold onto it and in the end, they agree on that.

(Also Mournimar gets a praise from Jun, which makes him feel validated).

The rest of the day passes uneventfully and they carry on, as the ground beneath their feet becomes more and more rocky. WIth the most perceptive in the party taking note that there’s a slight silhouette in the near distance of a town.

During the night, Belli receives a dream, like everyone else, but Mournimar, before her. As everyone had kept their dreams to themselves, for the following day, the group find themselves walking into a small and cozy town, which Arryn guesses would be Sodinvorg, most likely.

Very different from what the group had been used to so far. In a wasteland such as this (which funny enough is the right temperature for Luctan to feel at straight up at home?!) Sodinvorg’s constructed of tall buildings made out of clay, all painted red, white or red and white. Most split in multiple flats as they can tell from the windows. A variety of people in the windows, mostly Yuan-Ti, Kobolds, Tabaxi and Lizardfolk.

People here know each other and are close, mingling with each other.

Notable locations are the bathhouse, the tavern and the marketplace.

Luctan makes a b-line for the bathhouse, all excited and swept under the positive nostalgia of the enviroment he find himself in, with Jun joining him, all the while Belli would go and buy certain supplies. Cement included for some reason?! And then go to the apothecary.

A pair of young lizardfolk women run the bathhouse, which the pair of Jun and Luck can discern is constructed very intricately and with a style to it. (The place is essentially a roman bathhouse.)

Mournimar woud go to the Rolls and Scrolls place, where one could buy spell scrolls and delicious breads, as advertised, while Malak would check with the antique shop.

Inside the bath house, Jun takes on her mask of a beautiful Drow woman, named Valencia, having noted that there aren’t really any humans in the area. Valencia is a bit posh. Long white hair in a bun.

As they score themselves a place in the bath, The Disguise Duo enjoy a relaxing bath, unbothered by the cramped and crowded enviroment, as they are confident about themselves and their bodies.

No juicy gossip in the area and even if there was, a loud comment about Mommy Milkers from another of the patrons would distract the duo.

Arryn eventually joins the two, but after an unfortunate bomb dive goes wrong, he leaves, as the pool was too shallow for any acrobatics. Luctan’s Healing Word aids him in recovering from at least the physical pain, at least.

The duo have another talk, where Luck learns of Jun’s origins. Though she began her careers in Sa Doma, she was originally from Elmeria. Which, to say the least, was a neat coincidence, as the party had gotten their initial name there, when asked by Morticia.

Jun would share that, given her race as a Changeling, few doors were truly open for her, as a Shapeshifter in a world that had a bias against them, and so, the bounty hunting life and that of an escort were ones that she could slip into easily. Luck would bemoan her fate, how opportunities were taken from her due to things she couldn’t help. But was glad for her being able to make the best of it.

“When one door closes, another opens”, the two would agree.

Luck would tell her his story, in turn, being candid about the facts, though, naturally, given they were speaking around others, he’d of course avoid using the “H” word as to where he had come from. Besides, the yalready knew about that from the fight at the barn.

Luck would come to a point, admitting that he was unsure what to do with himself now. He was content helping people, but he had no plan on what to do with himself now, when he didn’t take on the rest of his revenge quest.

Jun encourages him to take the time and consider. And she’d admit that conversations weren’t generally something people would approach her for, given her non-violent work ethic.

But Luck would compliment her for her talk, appreciating being able to talk openly with her on matters. Jun would note that he was about the 3rd person to praise her for that.

Meanwhile, at the Rolls and Scrolls, Mournimar spends big money on several rolls and scrolls, making Matiro, the Yuan-Ti’s day with all the cash that comes his way.

Feather Fall, Aid, Calm Emotions and Find Steed are all bought and paid for by the Ranger, with the latter three being bought for a collective 500 gold.

Furthemore, the tiefling buys 7 loafs of bread, for the party and Arryn.

And then. Before he leaves, Mournimar leaves the man a tip of 5 platinum. And upon leaving, he can distinctly hear the Yuan-Ti scurry off, screaming to a friend: “PHILLIP! I’M IN LOVE!”

At a convergence point, Mournimar gets a gold piece from Jun and a pat on the head. Getting validated by an older female figure boosts his morale. Quite evident from his tail wagging like crazy.

From the calico Tabaxi, Jolly Sunrise, proprietor of “ Happy Belly Rubs “, Belli gets a healing herb, a root that healing potions are made from.

(It is at this point that we spend 10 minutes on Tabaxi bathroom name jokes. It’s just-you had to be there.)

Jolly makes a “Jolly Secret Rub”, which gives the party 1d8 Temp Hp. Gives special smelling salts, which are used as Spare The Dying as a bonus action. 165 worth. And lastly, upon Belli’s request, she delivers onto the Half-Orc Bard a pair of extra spicy peppers, referred to as “Dragon’s Breath”.

“Don’t give it to halflings. It could genuinely kill them.” she would note.

Also Belli learns that Jolly has a tiefling brother. Due to his fire resistance, she had learned that these could kill anoyone, without fire resistance. (Though that could’ve been a joke0

After the bread, the party go to the Cozy Leaf. An older tabaxi man, orange and graying around the nose, heads the place. He has a menu. There’s coffee, milk, honey milk. Maple Milk! The man’s name is Leaf On The Water. He has a strange clockwork device playing relaxing music nearby, giving the place a wholesome atmosphere.

His Grandson, an Artificer, built this contraption. Travels and sends new stuff to the old cat. There’s a stick figure drawing at the counter, drawn by the youngest in the family, his granddaughter. The grandson is taller than him. Grandson is 30. Grand Daughter is 3.

There’s even a portrait that gets showcased of the family. One big orange family. Himself, his three kids and his two grandkids.

Most of the group, but the bearded ones, get themselves a warm beverage. Honey Milk and Maple Milk.

While the patrty slowly unwind for the day, Belli asks Jun if she has any expertise with chemicals. Interesting enough, the Bloodhunter does have skills with alchemy supplies. And the two work on making pepper spray. Super. Spicy. Pepper Spray.

Malak find himself buying several items from the antique shop, run by the kobolds Zett and Nix, Red and Bronze respectively.

From the items presented to him, he takes what he could consider lucky charms.

Among them a coin of a strange material, a stone figurine of a snake, as well as a small silver rod with no decoration. It makes a harp noise. Notably, the rod gives off faint evocation magic.

Before purchasing these, he asks the Kobolds, just to be sure, that they hadn’t pilfered these from any gravesights and the like. They specify that any item they have in their shop has been brought in from families, who found no use for them.

They are established businessmen here. And the price for the collection of items bought is 25 silver. Enough to cover rent for the month.

Malak thanks them in Draconic and leaves after the monetary exchange.

At the end of the day, as everyone prepares for the night’s rest in the tavern, Jun keeps an ear and eye out for gossip, while Mournimar takes a single room for himself (and Morgan).

One, where he has himself his own little dream.

End of Episode.

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sabraeal · 4 years ago

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All That Remains, Chapter 6: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 3]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Obiyukiweek 2020, Day 2: Nobility Exhibit self discipline. Show respect to authority. Obey the law. Administer justice. Protect the innocent. Respect women.

Ah, but we have gotten ahead of ourselves once again, have we not? So wrapped up were we in lies and glamour that we have forgotten our girl on the shore, heart dripping in her hands.

It’s all right. She’ll forgive us. Little girls always do.

Let us not leave her waiting.

A girl stands on the shore, red shoes wet in her hands, with none of the answers she seeks. Or rather, none of the ones she was prepared to have.

Alive, the river had told her. Away, said the darkest fears of her heart.

Never had she thought that dead would seem the better option.

We are complex beings; animals with four-chambered hearts. We are meant to hold more than a single thought, a single emotion, a single wish. But still, still-- it is a poisoned gift when elation and desolation can exist beside one another, when they can be flavored by guilt and betrayal.

She is a just a child, and yet a storm brews in her chest, too large for to contain. Beneath it, she is but an island, alone at sea.

So when the boat comes, a humble thing with no explanation, no expectations, she steps on it. What else can she do, when there is no other way to leave the hurricane behind her?

Her rooms are dark when she returns to them.

Kiki moves, pale hair catching the last light of the hall. “Where are your matches? I can’t--”

“No.” Her voice feels wrong in her mouth, too sour and too low. For a moment, Shirayuki wonders if this is truly her body, or if she has stood in the shadows too long and becomes someone else.

“I mean,” she begins again, sounding more like herself with every word, “there’s no need. I’m going to bed.”

Kiki stills behind her. “Do you need help?”

Yes. “No.” Her fingers fumble at the clasps of her gown. “I wore one of my old dresses tonight. From when I...”

Still felt like myself. Her hands clench, cotton soft beneath her fingers, and for once she longs for something coarser, for a wool that might itch or a lace that might scratch. Anything that could ground her to this moment, this body.

“...before,” she manages, peeling the fabric off her. The night’s chill stings her skin. She nearly laughs-- in Lilias, this would a be a balmy night, and now she’s pimpled with goosebumps. “I haven’t forgotten how to undress myself.”

Stay here long enough and you’ll get the hang of it, Obi would be so quick to say. Or maybe, Master should be seeing to it that you do, Miss. But Kiki--

Kiki nods, skirting back to give her space she desperately doesn’t need. It’s strange how she can feel every inch of the gap between them, even though it is only empty air.

“Will you be coming tomorrow?” she asks, striving to keep her tone bright, buoyant. She may not feel like herself, but Shirayuki has made a career out of pushing forward, of persevering, and tonight is no different. “These other gowns are always a bit of a handful by myself.”

Kiki hums; it isn’t in agreement. “The consort will see to it.”

“Haki?” She tries to imagine that, the elegant queen of Clarines looping a hundred pearl buttons down her back.

Kiki’s lips cant into a soft smile, as if she knows just what Shirayuki must be thinking. “She’ll have women sent to you.”

“R-really?” She’s had maids before, lent to her when she traveled to Tanbarun, or sometimes for the night when Izana had deigned her appropriate company at one of Wistal’s balls, but for the queen to assign a pack of them herself, it seemed--

Official. A statement for other nobles to take notice of. Her stomach twists.

“She believes in you,” Kiki says quietly, laying a hand on her shoulder. “We all do.”

Her belly churns with a sickening flop. So did Obi.

Shirayuki shakes herself. It’s all going to be fine. Obi wouldn’t give up on her, and Zen wouldn’t give up on Obi either.

“R-right,” she manages, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “I’ll do my best.”

Is that not what we all want when we are lost? A way to leave the storm behind. A gentle guide to show us the way. An easy answer when none can be found.

It is said that lightning takes the path of least resistance; tree or pole or child-- all of them are the same in its eyes, so long as it meets the ground. And is that not what we are? Lightning in a bottle, a closed current seeking release. We hold a charge within ourselves and let it out when we touch metal. Sometimes even when we touch each other. No wonder we seize the easiest answer when we find it.

But, oh, how foolish we are to take it.

The covers surround her in a protective cocoon, warm and safe. Tonight’s turmoil has wrung her dry; she flops onto her mattress like a child who has run themselves to collapse. Dreams tantalize her from the corners of her vision, and she’s so ready to tip into their embrace, to take what oblivion they will give her with open arms.

There’s no reason to get so upset.

She jolts from the edge of sleep, fingers clenched. It’s a stray thought, an echo of Zen’s voice; no reason for her heart to race, not when it’s true. Not when everything is taken care of.

It’s not odd for Obi to disappear with no explanation.

A protest strains against her lips, even with no one to rail against. The boy who left Wistal swimming in the fur of his coat isn’t the man who returned. He hasn’t been, not for years now-- maybe not even then. Not since they stood beneath a tree in Tanbarun and she said, I told you we’d see the town next time, right? Not since he’d dragged her along the walls of Lilias and showed her a sunset.

We might as well try to keep a cat indoors.

She rolls, burying her face in the soft cage of her pillow. There’s no point in worrying, not when Zen has everything well in hand, not when there are men out looking for him--

My lady, I don’t know any that have.

Her heart stutters in her chest. Zen had told her-- had promised her that he would send men out, and he wouldn’t-- he couldn’t--

The boy must have been mistaken. Or the consort had the right of it, and Zen had passed over the royal guard, using the knights of the Royal Circle instead. It would make sense; it would take more than a usual guardsman to catch a man of Obi’s skills, if he didn’t mean to be caught.

Whichever direction you’re heading in, he’d said, words misting in the air between them, a promise. I’ll be sure to follow along by your side.

Which can’t be true. Obi couldn’t-- he wouldn’t leave, not without saying goodbye. Not when he had so many promises to keep.

He saw a man leaping over the walls the night Sir Obi went missing. The guilt in Kai’s expression haunts her even now. He was seen leaving with a woman, my lady.

Shirayuki has always prided herself on her cleverness, how she could unravel the most tangled symptoms into a diagnosis. But she holds this puzzle in her hand, and no matter how she tries, she cannot make the pieces fit, cannot make them into a whole.

Obi is a man of his word. He jokes, but he never lies, she told Ryuu once, though she can hardly remember why now. He wouldn’t leave her, not like this. Or Ryuu. Or Zen. But yet, yet--

Did you know he didn’t leave alone?

The sheets tear from her, and oh, the morning is blinding, leaving her cold and blinking on her bed. Her eyes adjust, and there, in the bright glow of the dawn, stands the consort.

“It is time to get up, Shirayuki.” Her mouth curves into a smile. “There is much work to be done.”

There are no oars in this little boat, the girl realizes too late. She has no sooner pushed off from the shore then the current grabs her, hurtling her toward the river’s end. Water sprays up from the rapids, and her little boat rocks perilously under her feet. The easy path this may be, but it is not safe either.

There is a part of her that is frightened, watching as the world moves by her, taking her toward places unknown; but there is another part as well, and it is relieved. She may no longer be in control, but oh, that means she is also no longer to blame.

“So few gowns,” the consort remarks as her women parade Shirayuki’s closet for her review. “And so many of them out of season. They’ll have to be replaced.”

Shirayuki offers a brittle smile in the mirror as one of the maids firmly drags a comb through her hair. “I don’t--” she hisses, teeth tangling in a knot-- “I have as many as I need. Long skirts and fine dresses were bound to get ruined in the pharmacy.”

“But at necessary at court.” Her mouth bows into a faint frown, displeasure weighing on her brow. “You must understand, this is not a simple undertaking. You cannot just...pass a test and become worthy of a crown.”

“That isn’t--”

The consort raises a hand, and her words stutter to a halt. “You have made your position clear, Shirayuki. It is not the title nor the trappings you want, but Zen himself, and I--” she hesitates, gaze distant-- “it is part of why I want to help you. Love is no little thing.”

She smiles, a shy, secret thing, as if they were alone and the room not teeming with her maids. “It is worth all the pain, if you can have love as well. But--” the consort’s gaze fixes on her in the mirror-- “it is not enough. The kings of Clarines once ruled by divine right, and the people-- they have not forgotten.” Her expression shadows when she adds, “they cannot be allowed to forget.”

Shirayuki stares at her hands, flushed. Tanbarun’s royal family had been a joke rather than an inspiration, a vestige of a bygone age that the country had never quite shucked. She’d never held much stock in divine rights, in the idea that someone could be her superior by nothing more than being birthed from the right womb, but--

But being with Zen would mean participating in that fiction, upholding that illusion to keep him safe. “I don’t see what my dresses have to do with that.”

“Everything,” the consort assures her. “You have read fairy stories, haven’t you? Princes cast away because they are dressed as paupers, princesses made by conjuring the right gown-- we think with our eyes first, and then our thoughts. Do you see what I mean?”

Her lip worries beneath her teeth. She’s read those stories, yes, a thousand times, and in each one, it is the clothes than make the man, that set designs on how he is treat but--

The prince is always betrayed by his courtly manors, the princess found by the softness of her skin or made by the contents of her heart.

But those are just stories. Here, in Izana’s court...

Shirayuki bows her head, allowing the maid to slip a pin tight against her skull. “I do.”

“Good. I’ll call for my dressmaker.” The consort slides up beside her, inspecting her maid’s handiwork. “Lovely. Where do you keep your ornaments?”

“Oh.” She nods her her chin toward the wooden box. “Over there.”

The consort lifts the lid with elegant fingers, taking in a breath as if she means to speak--

And stills. Her fingers splay in the air, and she-- she closes the box.

“Well.” Her mouth melts into a warm smile. “That will have to be taken care of as well. Don’t worry, Shirayuki, you’re in good hands now.” Her teeth flash white behind her lips. “Mine.”

Why must these things always happen to children, you wonder. Could this girl not be a woman? Could this boy not be a man? Must it always be that the smallest and most vulnerable that are asked to wander the roads we most fear?

Certainly, they could be. Stories are but lenses through which we see ourselves, made more palatable for the distance. On another page, in another life, they could be a man and a woman on the cusp of something greater, the distance only increasing their longing--

But in a fairy tales there are rules, and the foremost among them is: you must be able to see the magic for it to happen.

When the boat pulls up to the shore, you must not see the beautiful women waiting at its dock, but instead the woman who can conjure. And that, that--

That is the provenance of a child.

Shirayuki is an eternal well of optimism, a veritable font of good will, but when it came to her training--

It’s impossible, she’d told Obi, face buried in her pillow. There’s no way any one person can do all this and look like they’re not trying.

He’d only grinned, idling by her bedside with his usual insolent grin. Glad to see Princess Lessons are going so well.

She’s prepared for more of the same, for the familiar two-steps-forward, ten-steps-back dance she’s been doing for the last few months only now with the added humiliation of the consort beside her but--

It’s different, this time.

“Shirayuki.” Lady Mihoko is entrenched in the divan today, looming with dignity of a temple’s ruin. It’s only the consort’s presence that has excavated her from her favorite chair, but she bears it like an statue missing a limb. “Pour the tea.”

She knows this for what it is: a trap. Mihoko’s maids flank the door to the parlor, ready and entirely willing to pour endless cups of too-sweet tea for everyone seated. This isn’t about thirst, oh no, but that she’s doing entirely too well. Mihoko wants to see her falter and fail as a girl with so common a spine should.

Shirayuki leans forward, mouth thin with concentration, and--

“Keep your shoulders back.” The consort sips delicately at her cup, her words barely rippling its contents. “Don’t round over. Pretend you have a pencil between your shoulder blades.”

Her hand stutters over the salver. A pencil--?

Lady Mihoko watches from her perch; a vulture waiting for a limping animal to fall. Shirayuki has always been at the top of her class, her time at Lilias served with distinction, but yet in this her failure is not only assumed but assured.

Fine. She pushes her shoulders back until the blades kiss, imagining that pencil between them, holding it still as she bends. It’s-- different. Exposing, almost, though she’s wearing no less than she was before, and--

And Lady Mihoko makes no comment as she pours, filling her cup to within a finger’s width of the rim. Nor does she have any disparaging remarks for when she fills the consort’s cup, or her own.

“Sugar?” Shirayuki offers mildly. The corners of her lips twitch, and it takes every last crumb of control she has to keep from smiling. The last thing she needs is for this victory to be tarnished by a vulgar expression.

Mihoko’s lips thin into a forbidding wrinkle, but holds out her cup. “It seems you are much improved,” she allows, begrudgingly, less a compliment and more an accusation.

Shirayuki will take it. “Thank you, Lady Mihoko.”

“Not that you could have sunk much further.” The lady takes a dainty sip before settling the cup onto its saucer. “But I suppose that would make any progress heartening.”

Her smile, carefully constructed to show no improprietous teeth, wavers. “You are...too kind.” The consort sends her a warning glance, and she adds, “My lady.”

“I know I am.” Mihoko glares down her nose, severe. “You should be grateful that Her Majesty has taken you under her wing. The queen of Clarines has much more pressing duties than to educate a--” she casts a disapproving look over her-- “hopeful.”

“Please, Lady Mihoko.” The consort’s mouth rounds into a pleasant curve, the perfect smile. “I am all too happy to fill my hours with such pleasant company as Lady Shirayuki’s. A lady may learn the right fork or the proper dance for an occasion, but one cannot teach a good heart or an interesting mind.”

Her ladyship harrumphs, a quake that shudders through her from slipper to veil, tenders no harsher reply than a sip from her cup. Some degree of royal relation she might be, but even Mihoko won’t quarrel with a queen.

“I’m very grateful!” Shirayuki assures her. “This whole, um, process has been quite challenging and, ah...”

Lonely, she doesn’t say. It nearly tips out all on its own before she even knows it is there, but now it catches in her teeth, sticky and unpleasant.

“It’s an honor,” she finishes, lamely. Mihoko only nods, propriety fulfilled, but the consort--

Haki stares at her, chin tilted, a finger laying thoughtfully along her jaw. She may not be Izana, but her gaze itches like his, as if she were a puzzle that needed solving, or even--

A bug under a glass.

It is not that the girl did not know the danger of sorceresses. Oh no, she had been warned about such women, had read of them in books and shivered at the sound of them in song. But standing as she is, shoes in hand, alone on a river too swift to swim and no oars with which to row--

She makes a choice.

The boat rocks as it comes to shore, so gentle under the sorceress’s guidance, and the little girl makes herself as placid, as docile. That has always been the way she fooled adults before; misbehavior is only assumed from unruly children, but an obedient one--

Well, she has only gotten this far because no one expects the obedient one to run.

It is a good plan, a clever plan, one any young child could be proud of, but--

She does not expect this sorceress.

It had never occurred to her how mortifying it would be to have someone to watch her fail lesson after lesson, to hear as her teachers passed along their lukewarm-- at best-- praise. Shirayuki had always been top of her class, her professors’ best student, and now--

Now she’s grateful Obi had to stand outside while she floundered. One day of the consort’s steady observation and she wants to lay down in her bed and never be seen again.

“You did well.”

Shirayuki turns, eyes wide, as the consort follows her into her room. “What do you mean?”

She blinks, head tilted. “I mean what I said: you did well.”

But I didn’t nearly tips right out, nearly falls straight on the carpet like an ink stain, but she catches it, just in time.

“You’re too kind,” she manages, because somehow implying a lie is more palatable than saying it outright. “I’m not sure my tutors would agree with you.”

The consort waves a hand, as if such worries were little more than smoke. “They are used to ladies. To breeding. When compared to a girl who has been training for this opportunity all her life...yes, you fall quite short. But that is not who you are.”

Haki steps forward, taking one of her hands in hers. “You are the woman who saved Lilias. That some believe a straight spine or a sprightly step could be worth more than that in a princess is--” she takes a breath, agitated-- “antiquated.”

Shirayuki stares, mouth slack, hand limp. “I thought you said--”

“It is important for the people to remember why kings are give the power they possess,” Haki tells her, her eyes so blue, so earnest. “But a good king earns the trust of his people by surrounding himself with the best minds his kingdom can offer. Anyone can learn to hold a fork, Shirayuki, but you--” she smiles-- “you cannot be replaced.“

Something in her chest squirms, but it’s not unpleasant. More like...a squirrel that’s made its next in a tree’s heart, finally waking after a long winter.”

“Oh,” she croaks past the lump in her throat. “Oh.”

In the stories, the sorceresses are old. Or failing that, they are seductresses, dark haired and pale-skinned, every word a twist of the knife.

But this one, oh-- this one is so beautiful and young, her hat so brightly painted with flowers. There is no danger etched on her face or molded in the curves of her body, no sharp teeth or crooked grin. Just a smile, so warm and so gentle.

The little girl is not foolish; she knows exactly how it is when you are not what you seem but--

She does not expect this.

Nor she does not expect to say, “I love roses,” the moment the woman touches her hand.

“You poor child.” When the woman speaks, every word is a song, “How did you come all this way on such a dangerous river? You must be very brave indeed.”

No one had ever called the little girl that before. Pretty, of course, and kind, and often gentle, but brave--

You must tell me who you are, the sorceress says, awe plain in her voice, and how you came here. I must know everything of such a clever little girl.

Her eyes prickle, and before she quite knows what to do, tears stream down her cheek.

Oh, my darling. Arms wrap around her, warm and soft, and oh, how long has it been since she has been held, just like this? So long, so long. No more worries. I have you. I will take care of you.

“Your Majesty, I must insist.” Arundo’s brow blisters with sweat, his dark eyes pleading. “Truly, it is my duty to instruct Mistress Shirayuki. I cannot possible ask you--”

“You are not asking,” the consort reminds him, her mouth hooked into a devious smile. “And I am the one insisting. I think a change of partners will do her ladyship a world of good.”

The dancing master pales. Shirayuki can’t blame him; if Izana was to find out she mangled his wife’s feet as she did Arundo’s...

“I’m not sure she’s ready for such a, ah...change.” He wrings his hands, mopping at his brow. “Surely a few more weeks, and perhaps--”

“I have been watching these lessons for quite some time, Master Arundo, would you not agree?” The man has no recourse but to nod, not with the way the consort pins him with her gaze, hedging him against the wall with her imposing posture. “I have noticed a few areas in which her understanding of the dance might be improved.”

All of them, probably. Despite years of tutors, Shirayuki has never quite grasped the finer areas of dance. Not that there hadn’t been some successes-- she never seemed to embarrass herself in Tanbarun when Raj insisted on a waltz, and Obi always managed to make her look capable, if not competent, but outside that--

Well, Her Majesty shouldn’t be wearing slippers facing off against her feet.

Arundo deflates in the face of her determination. “Ah, well...if you’re certain...Your Majesty...”

“I am.” The consort turns to her, skirts skimming the floor. Ah, it had been hard enough avoiding Arundo’s feet when she could see them; this hemline can only complicate matters. “Come, I’ll lead you through it. A waltz might seem hard to start, but there’s very little to remember.”

Shirayuki doesn’t have the heart to tell her that’s what they’d been trying to do before Arundo had decided that learning polka might behoove her more, if only because it put space between her partner and her feet. “Ah...if you think so.”

“I know so.” Haki tilts her a small, secretive smile. “Give me your hand.”

With one last helpless glance at Arundo, she does. The consort’s palm is cool against hers, like marble warming under her touch, and she slides into the circle of her arms with only a little finagling.

“I should be about the right height.” Her face is so close-- nearly too close, the her eyes so pale and so clear, so unlike the deep Wisteria blue. “Give or take an inch or two.”

That is all the warning she has; the accompanist starts a thoughtful piece, slow yet bright, and the consort sweeps her across the floor. She stumbles on the first step, but the music’s pace makes it easy to recover, to remember the simple rhythm of up, up, down; up-up-down--

She steps out into her turn, arm lifted, and--

Just barely misses Her Majesty’s slippered foot, slid to safety just in time.

Haki laughs, and it’s so different when it is not a disappointed tutor that looks back, but Her Majesty’s smiling face. As if she were not in a practice room, but a bed chamber, practicing on a lark instead of disastrously careening toward a deadline.

“Well then,” Haki breathes, holding her stomach as if it might cease her giggles. “Now we know what we need to work on.”

The girl is but a child, well-loved and then sent into the world alone, shell of determination over a soft body of longing. For how long has she been reaching out her hands only to come back empty? For how long has she been calling for help, only to go unheard?

And now a hand catches hers with warm smiles above it, with arms so ready to hold the burden she’s been carrying for far, far too long...

The little girl enters a garden, and oh, who are we to judge when she grasps with both hands.

“Well done, once again.” Haki slumps onto the divan beside her, flushed, eyes bright. “I think you’ve nearly gotten that waltz.”

Shirayuki delicately closes her jaw. “I’m...I don’t really think that’s true. I nearly stepped on you at least two dozen times.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Only because you’re much quicker than Arundo is,” she laughs. “Which is good, otherwise Izana would have--” she coughs, flustering under the consort’s bemused smile-- “I mean, His Majesty would have been quite upset if I’d broken your foot.”

Her Majesty hums, gaze measuring. “I see he was right.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You’re really not afraid of him.” Haki’s sweet smile sharpens into a grin. “Izana.”

“Hguk.” If only she knew how to answer questions like these-- or at least, how to answer them when someone with a His or Her poses them, looking for an answer that is not respect is earned, not given.

“I’m from Tanbarun,” Shirayuki settles on, since that seems...safe.

“Yes,” Haki hums, all too knowing. “I could see how a royal title might not impress you.”

She has the sudden, perverse urge to object. Raj might have once been a black mark on Tanbarun’s reputation, the prince no princess would deign to entertain as a prospect, but now-- now he was a prince the people could be proud of. That she could be proud of. Even if he was a little ridiculous.

But she doubts that consort would understand such a change. So she drowns the impulse in the tea a maid hands her.

Haki sips at her own with effortless elegance, measuring her with a glance. “I suppose that is part of your charm. That you don’t believe in this,” she explains, “the superiority of good breeding.”

Tea burns when she breathes it instead of swallowing, and well, a coughing fit is one way to get out of having to answer...any of that.

Haki pats her back, harder than Shirayuki would expect from a woman raised to be a king’s demure shadow. “There, there.” The words ripple with the undercurrent of a giggle. “Let us talk of something else instead. Perhaps the reason your mind wanders?”

The garden and its marvels lead to a cottage, its walls of wattle and its roof of thatch. The most delicious smells waft through the window-- fresh baked bread, hot fruit tart--

Come inside, the sorceress says, I have sweet berries, fresh picked, and cool cream with which to have it.

The little girl hesitates, red shoe hovering over the threshold. It was one thing to stand upon the dock with her, to be held and hold in return, to walk among her flowers and marvel at the sight, but it’s quite another to enter her home, the center of her power. Unless she wants to be sweet child stew--

You must tell me how you came to be here. The sorceress smiles, so warm. I will help you, if I am able.

The little girl steps inside.

The consort smiles in her silence, sweeping up across the room. “You have such pretty hair pieces,” she remarks brightly, “I must applaud your taste.”

“Oh I...I didn’t pick them,” she admits. “I don’t really have an eye for that sort of thing.”

A perfectly shaped eyebrow lifts. “You don’t mean to say my good brother did. I never thought him the type.”

“Oh! No, it wasn’t him,” she laughs. “Obi...”

I’m looking for a boy, the little girl says, for despite all her cleverness, there are some tricks a child cannot see. He has dark hair. He is this tall. He gave me these shoes.

My oh my, the sorceress says, leading her to a chair. There are no other children in this house, but even still it is the right size, just large enough so that her toes brush at the floor when she kicks them. You describe him so well. He seems like he must be a very good boy.

He is, for he is, even if he’s strayed from her. But he is lost.

This is for you. The pin balances awkwardly behind her ear, hair entirely too short for something like it. He smiles at her, something lopsided and sharp. She hardly knows him then, only thinking that she must look ridiculous. Still, his eyes are the clearest she’s ever seen as he says, Part of my prize.

Is that so? the sorceress hums. Do you mind very much if I were to brush your hair? It is so disheveled from your travels, I would hate for it to get too tangled.

The girl hesitates, her hands in her lap. The berries and cream look very good indeed, and when the sorceress brings out her brush, it is mother of pearl, so pretty and so fine. She knows what they say about strange food, she knows what they say can be done with only a few strands of hair, but-- she is a small girl, so weary, so unused to kindness, and--

She nods.

Since there’s no martial arts match to win, he teases, so many years later, I thought we’d go choose another one for you.

It sits heavy in her hands as she stand in the hall, waiting.

Thank you, she says, meeting eyes that are still so clear all these years later, thank you so much for this

Have you seen him? she asks, watching the woman warily as she approaches. The little girl has heard of what conjurers might do, but she is a strong girl, a brave girl, a clever one. She would not be fooled by illusion. My boy?

Your boy? The sorceress sweeps close, the scent of flowers wafting on the air. I have not.

The brush is so soft in her hair, so lulling. She can feel her eyes drift to half mast. It has been so long since she rested.

But I’m sure he’ll come through. The sorceress’s mouth rounds into a dangerous curve. Everyone does, eventually.

You’re drunk, she decides, watching the way he sways on the balls of his feet, swaying like a sailor at sea. Still, he’s coiled tight, braced for an attack. Even soused, he’s vigilant Obi, I know that--

You don’t know anything about me, Miss.

His eyes have never been cloudier.

You have roses, the little girl slurs, so many of them, and so beautiful.

You like them? It’s hard to keep her eyes open now, her head nodding at the table.

They are my favorite, she says, my boy and I...we raised roses together.

The brush pauses, mid-stroke. You don’t say?

“It’s too bad you have so few.” The consort reaches out a hand, her fingers catching in her hair. The touch is so unexpected, Shirayuki forgets to flinch. “Your hair is so lovely.”

“Thank you,” she manages, which is better than saying, I hear that a lot.

It’s no use; Haki’s mouth lifts wryly, and even though she hasn’t said a word, Shirayuki knows she’s heard every one. “You’ll have to let me lend you one of mine.”

“Wha?” She blinks, staring as the consort rounds the divan, clasp in hand. “I couldn’t--”

“Put it in yourself? I know. Please,” the consort comes to sit beside her, pales eyes shining eagerly, “allow me to pin it for you.”

“I...” Shirayuki snaps her lips over her protest; Haki may only be the consort, but still, saying no to a queen was what Obi would call career limiting. “You’re too kind.”

Her hands are gentle as she removes the pins lying tight against Shirayuki’s scalp. “Oh no, not at all. It’s the least I could do for my sister.”

She says it so casually, as if this were all settled, as if Shirayuki’s success was already assured and not balanced on the head of a pin, and--

And for once, Shirayuki believes it.

You should stay, the sorceress says, and the little girl hardly hears it, her chin cradled on her arms.

I can’t, I can’t, she yawns, looking out on the world through the net of her lashes. I have to find my boy.

He’ll come, in time, the woman assures her. As I said, everyone does. Why not wait here?

With what she’d seen of Rona’s skills the last time she’d visited Tanbarun, Shirayuki expected to be left with a rat’s nest that would take three maids to untangle. But the consort’s hands are practiced, neatly twisting and lifting as she pins.

“Have you’ve done this before?” She grimaces; there was probably much more polite way to put that, one that didn’t call a queen’s qualifications into question. “I mean...there aren’t many ladies of the court that know how to, um, do this.”

“Take care of themselves? Yes,” she hums, too amused, “I know. I was one of the dowager’s handmaidens when she was queen. We didn’t need to do much, but, well...a girl like to distinguish herself, doesn’t she?”

“O-oh.” She bites her lip, thoughtful. “So...before you were the Mistress of Lilias? Is that how you met Izana?”

Her hands still, just for a moment, before twisting another piece. “No. We have known each other...far longer than that. Our fathers were...”

“Friends?” Shirayuki supplies, when Haki does not.

“No, better-- allies. I was practically raised with the Wisterias.” She laughs. “No wonder I was always desperate for a sister. Good thing at least one of my brothers has decided to oblige me.”

The comb’s teeth skim against her scalp, and Shirayuki grimaces. “With someone no one expected.”

The consort drops down beside her, companionably close, closing a hand around hers. “Perhaps you did not realize, Shirayuki, how serious I was. I am as selfish as any of these men, though what I want from you is not feminine perfection.” She grins, and it’s not like Izana’s, a prelude to a challenge, but an invitation to mischief. “Don’t forget that before I was the queen of Clarines, I was the mistress of Lilias. If the woman who saved the North is an unorthodox choice to the relics of this court...then it is just the one I want. Do you understand?”

Stay, my precious girl, the sorceress whispered, I have long been waiting for a dear little maiden like you.

“I do.”

It is dark when one woman says to another, “There is a box in her room, on the dresser. Do you know it?”

The second bows her head. “I do.”

“Good.” The first worries a lip, hesitant. “See that it disappears.”

“I...” The second straightens, nods. “I will.”

A little girl sleep and a sorceress stands in her garden.

You must stay with me, she says as the roses seep beneath the ground, and see how happily we shall live together.

#obiyukiweek20 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #All That Remains #snow queen AU #ans #this was supposed to be twice as long #and go to the end of this section #but I very quickly realized that for pacing reasons it needed to be cut #so enjoy a slightly shorter interlude #a prelude to a storm one might say #continuing my 'every odd chapter knocks you on your ass' motif

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virtuosin · 4 years ago

Note

💗

Send 💗 to kiss my muse tenderly without explanation

It hadn’t been that long since they departed Shedola, though they hadn’t left under hospitable circumstances. They entered while a storm ravaged the planet’s surface, leaving little time then to restock or refuel, nor were they given the time of luxury to do so when leaving. And so, the unlikely pair ventured off into the dark abyss of space knowing a pitstop would be required soon, lest they float adrift, vulnerable and accessible for any raiders or--light forbid--Maroda. In truth, Sona eagerly awaited the next rest stop. She wasn’t restless of space travel, no. If anything, she had missed the languid flight through the cosmos. To fly in space was unlike anything she’d experienced before, and she hardly doubts the sentiment of adventure and discovery would fade any time soon. No, the reason why she was so anxious to land was to avoid being in a quiet space with a certain Ordinal for too long. She was his prisoner, so that should be expected, but...after Shedola, Sona was feeling great confliction. For the first time since being under his supervision, the Templar endured that nightmare--the vision of the future. It would leave her sobbing, shaking, unraveling without hope. Too used to the tormented experience was she to ask for help or confide in others about it. Habitually, she’d cover her mouth to muffle what little gasps she’d produce and sob silently in the night. Silently, isolating the heartache from sight. But not from Kayn. Somehow, he already knew she was distressed--perhaps his senses were so finely tuned that the shifting of her body alerted him first, or the subtle sounds of terror muffled into a palm. Whatever the case, he hadn’t approached her with malice or the intent to pry secrets from her while torn by her emotions. He held her. Tightly, with both arms tucking her body so close to his, he held her so she had no other choice than to cling desperately to his back and let it all out. She sobbed so hard that her throat ached. It was a woeful indicator of how repressed her anguish was, to have it all pour out against the Ordinal’s chest like that. But he had comforted her that night, something she didn’t think he was capable of. Sona uttered her thanks then, but in truth, she’s done her best to avoid thinking of his tenderness--all in vain, of course. At least she could stretch her legs and step away from Kayn, at least to a certain degree. The planet they happened upon was smaller in size, though you might not think it given the dense population of the city they landed in. It was modern enough for an edgeworld, appearing to be a smaller scale trading post compared to the one he had snatched her up at originally. Kayn had wandered off to get fuel and supplies arranged for the ship, but not before getting lodging secured. It sounded as though it would taken a night to have everything delivered that they desired, leaving them little choice than to hole up for the night in a hotel again. Sona would swallow hard at that news. Another night in a small room with Shieda Kayn. How perfect. He had told Sona he’d be an hour, and that she should not leave the room. It was a direct order, explicit, but when one hour turned to three, the Templar found anxiety dwelling in her heart. She may be his ‘prisoner’ but there was a modicum of concern held for the man, more than she wanted to think about. Whether they wanted to confess it, they were a team, leaning on each other out necessity--for the sake of survival. Mostly. “Kayn,” She grumbles in the room, pacing for the umpteenth time around the perimeter. What if he was found out as an Ordinal? Not may places in the edgeworlds appreciated the Empire. Surely, he wasn’t wearing his uniform and had left the eyepiece behind which helped disguise his appearance. Even so, the idea of Kayn taking this long was alarming. A man like him wouldn’t be this tardy without good reason, though none arise that aren’t riddled with conflict. Frustrations boiling over, Sona conceals her Ora markings and pulls her hair up into a large ponytail. Grabbing a nondescript cloak she’d been using before, the Templar would fasten it across her shoulders and head for the door. None would recognize her based on features alone. Her Templar regalia hid all her physical features for good reason, including her gold-tipped tresses of white. She felt comfortable enough taking a peek downstairs as is. This wasn’t Shedola--she needn’t dress the part of a man to blend in and avoid attention. So she thought. The main floor of the establishment was a bar--though perhaps calling it a night club would have been the better definition. There was an extensive amount of seating, waitresses dressed in skimpy uniforms, and patrons littering the open rotunda with sinful indulgences in hand. They must have come in close to opening hours because there were far more individuals occupying the space, many of whom were casting their gaze upon her. Doing her best to pay no heed to the eyes of vultures, Sona strode for the counter with an air of dignity and grace, chin elevated above the masses. Crossing the large expanse, the Templar flagged down the bartender and signed to them in hopes they’d understand her. He was an older gentlemen, human, one who seemed to pause at her hand gestures as if he didn’t comprehend it. Thankfully, he did. After a brief exchange, she learned that Kayn hadn’t returned since originally leaving, giving Sona even more reason to feel perturbed. This felt like a far more cruel mind game of his, but surely he would not test her like this--not after all they’ve endured thus far. Where in the universe was that damnable man and how dare he leave her fretting for this long? “Oi!” A boisterous voice comes from behind, causing Sona to shudder. She would have walked straight back to the stairs without acknowledging the source of that bellow, if she had been given such a choice. However, a thick hand smacks down beside her on the wooden countertop, causing several mugs and glasses to chitter against the surface. A large, pompous looking man, skin tan and decorated with various scars and black hair pulled into a topknot. Thick ring of smoke puffs out at Sona as he huffs the cigar, dragging out a look of displeasure from her. “Ya not from ‘round these parts, ey? Woulda remembered a face like yers~” He’d coo, coming to sit in the open chair beside her. That calloused hand would motion to the chair she stood beside, as if inviting her to sit, though her stiff posture made it obvious she’d do no such thing. Finding her stubbornness comical, he’d let out a roar of laughter and smack his knee. “Cat git yer tongue, girlie? Bahaha! C’mon, lemme buy ya a tipple o’ whatever yer heart desires!” “E-Er, I apologize, sir, but she-” The bartender begins meekly, doing his best to appear knightly but wilting in the face of this looming mass. After a quick glance toward Sona, he’d clear his throat and continue with a bit more strength than before. “The lady cannot speak...and she is awaiting her companion. I would ask you desist hassling our guest.” “Watchu mean she’s waitin’ fer a companion? Hah! I see no companion ‘roun ‘ere ‘cept fer me!” The man leans closer, the stench of tobacco and liquor revolting to her senses. Instinctively, Sona takes a step backwards, putting distance between her and this cretin--but something touches her back; then, a hand finds her shoulder. The next moment comes in a blur, but sadistically her mind experiences it in slow motion. There’s a force gripping her ponytail, yanking her head up and backwards with less force than she expects. There, towering over her is the man who’s been haunting her mind and future alike. Those eyes spoke of anger, but there seemed to be something pensive in his features. Before there is time to consider the meaning, the Ordinal dips down, claiming her lips without hesitation. It would elicit a tiny gasp from the barkeep as well as a grunt from the man beside her, but in truth Sona couldn’t hear a thing--not over the oppressive drumming of her heartbeat. It would have been one thing if it was a quick kiss, but no, that would have been too kind. It was deep, passionate, as if Kayn wanted to be as dramatic and over the top as possible with the display. Sona had been stunned by the tenderness, her body stiff with shock. Frustratingly, she felt her body melt apart, and despite her best efforts, she found herself pressing her mouth into his with equal force, reciprocating Kayn’s kiss. As if wakened from a trance, the kiss would break and a brief, tense moment occurred where they peered at each other. If she didn’t know any better, he seemed alarmed she’d kiss back, but there was...something smug to him. If only she realized why he smiled, but she hadn’t a clue how red her face was, or how breathless her expression became after their mouths departed. What came next should have been expected. “Oi!! Fuck off why donchya, ey?! I’m tryin’ to fuckin’--” WHAM!! In a fluid motion, Kayn steps around Sona and slams a fist in the center of this man’s face. A satisfying crunch echoes in the space, and a spray of blood goes flying across the countertop of the bar, staining mahogany a violent shade of red. The man gripped his face and leaned forward, as if he was going to throw a punch right back. With dexterous ease and a bored expression, Kayn deflected the blow with the back of his hand, though he pivots his hand to grip the other’s wrist, twisting it inward. With a well timed yank, Kayn would land an elbow strike against the man’s cranium before knocking him off that chair and onto the floor. A foot lands against his windpipe, applying a small amount of pressure to the throat--though with the way he wheezes, it’s apparent Kayn is taking sweet pleasure in applying more weight. “She is MY woman,” Kayn’s familiar cadence fiercely calls out to the man on the ground. “I would kill you for merely looking at her, but I’ve more pressing matters that need attending.” A quick side glance is offered to Sona, and for a moment, she feels a bolt of energy course through her body. What was this feeling? It wasn’t quite intimidation, but she felt even more anxious while under that glare of his. As if sensing her frazzled state, Kayn would plant a firm kick against the side of the man’s face--one that is done with far more grace than she thinks is physically possible--and turn towards Sona. A hand curls around her waist, fingers resting just over the side of a hipbone. With that grip, he guides her towards the stairs, as if escorting his beloved somewhere private for a tryst. She isn’t entirely sure what’s worse; the fact his eyes are molten with ire, or how roguishly handsome the curl on his lips is.

#ofshadowreaping #tw long post #tw violence #because ofc Kayn would still need to be violent lol #it felt suitable he'd kiss her with a dominantly display #to express his anger in her being downstairs #and to prove a point to that man #i hope this works tho #<3 #epoch tale || Odyssey au #in harmony || ic

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stanbillyhargrove · 4 years ago

Text

Demons - an AU rewritten

Cat x Steve 💜

A/N: Billy is an asshole. Cat finds love in the arms of Steve

T/W: Eating disorder, self harm, suicide attempts, mention of sexual assault

Cat's POV

Another party. Another house full of nameless faces. Another night of barely managing panic with burning alcohol.

What the queen must do for her king.

Push down the memories. Smile. Accept every drink and more. Dance, laugh. Don't freak when a stray hand touches, it's harmless fun, right?

Right.

I lost Billy early on in the night, swept away in a sea of jocks to protect his crown. I was left behind, letting the music pound through my bones as I joined the crowd of dancers. I was well and truly wasted by the time I saw Billy across the room. He was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed against his chest as he stared at me. Saw a pack of guys I barely recognized around him, talking and laughing and then...gesturing at me. I watched Billy's shoulders tense, rolling back tightly as they kept talking to him. Watched his jaw tense and his eyes darken.

The guys around him stared and I glanced away when flashes of memory came back, making panic swell. Felt myself being bumped around by chaotic dancers when I stopped moving. Just a moment, a moment of blood pounding in my ears. Of trying to gulp down breaths. My hands came up to my chest, like I could hold myself together and stop my heart from thundering out of my ribs if I just held tight enough.

A moment of panic taking over until I felt a large hand on my arm, yanking me through the crowd. I stumbled along, just trying to stay upright until I was pulled outside, being shoved down the driveway by a very angry Billy.

"Wait, Billy, slow down! You're hurting me!"

He let go of my arm with the next push forward, my hands flying up to catch myself on the hood of his car before I ended up face first in the gravel.

"Billy! What the fuck?"

"Get in the fucking car," he growled, storming around to the driver's side and slamming the door shut behind him.

I crawled into the passenger seat, tucking myself against the door as he peeled out of the driveway. He was weirdly quiet, muscles clenching in his jaw and hands flexing on the steering wheel. Beyond angry.

"B, what's wrong?"

The engine revved louder, creeping up to dangerous speeds as we whipped around corners.

"B, please. Slow down," I pleaded, reaching out to graze his arm.

He flinched, "don't."

"Don't? Billy, what's wrong?"

"Don't play fucking dumb!" He yelled, "you cheated on me!"

I stared at him, dumbfounded and whispered, "what?"

He stomped on the brake, launching me forward until my seatbelt locked, digging into skin to stop me from flying into the dashboard. Let out a loud huff of breath as he threw the car into park and then...he exploded.

"The last summer party, I wasn't there so you threw yourself at them. What? You're so needy you couldn't handle being alone for a few fucking hours so you sleep with a fucking group of guys?"

I shook my head, "no...I, that's not..."

"Quit lying to me! They told me all about it, that you asked for it! They bragged about how good you were. You refuse to sleep with me but a group of strangers is fine? Seriously? Just to fuck with my head? To get back at me? Well, good fucking job! You got me!"

"B...no..I didn't..."

"Get out," he muttered.

I quickly glanced out the window behind him, at the blackness of the night, the houses I knew were closer to his house than mine.

"B..."

"Get out of my car, you fucking whore!"

I scrambled to get out of the car, barely holding back tears until he peeled away.

I collapsed just inside the door of my house when I finally got home. Fell against the door, hugging my knees and sobbing loudly into them. Crawled to the phone, pulling it down to the floor to dial. It took a while before he finally answered.

"Hello?" His voice was low and groggy, still mostly asleep.

"Stevie?" I sobbed, "I need you."

"Five minutes," he murmured before hanging up.

I curled up on the floor, feeling like my chest was cracking open. A jagged chasm starting at my heart and spreading out, threatening to break me to pieces and swallow me down.

I didn't hear Steve's car pull into the driveway, didn't notice the front door opening. I just suddenly felt myself being scooped up, pulled forward into a warm chest and tucked under his chin. Holding me together.

Steve sat there, running his hand up and down my back as I cried into his chest. The soft material of his shirt soaking up saltwater until it clung to his skin.

"It's okay," he murmured into my hair, "I'm here. I'm always here."

-- Steve's POV

Cat and I had been inseparable for the past couple weeks since her and Billy broke up. I'd spent more nights wrapped around her then I spent by myself. I found myself having nightmares more often that not and preferred to not spend the night alone, but we would compromise with calling each other if we had to be apart.

Nightmares where I was running through a sea of people, struggling to break free of them. Where I knew Cat was in danger but I could never find her until it started raining. Cold water poured from the sky, dissolving the people I'd been pushing through until I was face to face with Cat. "Why didn't you save me?" She'd cry. The rain turned to acidic blood, burning me and staining her skin as I watched her shrinking before my eyes. Skin stretched tight over jutting bones until it burst, leaving jagged rips in her skin. "Why didn't you save me?" She'd cry again. "I'm trying!" I'd scream. But she always dissolved into ash, floating away into nothing. Then I'd jolt awake, panting and panicked, sometimes waking Cat and Rocky when I did. Cat would roll over to sleepily nuzzle her face into my bare chest and stretch her hand across my stomach to intertwine her fingers with mine while murmuring, "it's okay, I'm here, Stevie." The nights I didn't wake her, I'd wrap my arms tight around her, holding my breath as I waited to feel her chest moving and then I'd sigh into her hair and wait for sleep to take me again.

She had eventually stopped crying every night, but I could tell she was hiding how she was really feeling. Even though she would laugh and smile around me, I could still see her slowly wasting away, could see hollows become darker and angles become sharper. I could see the hurt that she had buried deep inside. I wanted nothing more than to take that away, to bring the light back to her life and keep her protected. To stop my nightmares from becoming reality.

Tonight, Cat had gone home by herself with the promise to call me later. She had said she wanted to spend some time with her mom. But it was nearing eleven o'clock and I still hadn't heard from her, usually if she was alone she would have called by nine or ten. My worry got the best of me and I decided to just drive over and check on her.

I was met with a quiet house. Too quiet. I ducked into Cat's room first and found it empty except for Rocky. I padded over to the bathroom and knocked lightly on the door.

"Cat? You in here?"

I waited in silence for a moment before pushing the door open and freezing. I felt like my heart had dropped into my stomach and kicked up into my throat at the same time. My throat was so tight I didn't think I was actually breathing, except I could hear the quick, panicky breaths I was taking.

Cat was lying in a tub full of water, only wearing a bra and underwear. I'd seen her naked before, knew that she was sick but there was still no way to be prepared. No way to prepare yourself to see the hollows between her bones, the new and old scars across her body. It broke my heart to see her, to know that I wasn't able to protect her from this. From herself.

Her head lolled against the side of the tub, just barely out of the water. I lurched forward, dropping down hard on my knees next to the tub and yanked the plug out before grabbing the sides of her face.

"Cat, hey!" I gently slapped her cheek, trying to wake her up.

I saw her eyes twitch and felt a moment of relief. I looked around for a towel and saw an empty bottle of aspirin lying on the ground next to the tub.

"Fuck," I muttered, "fuck, fuck, fuck, okay."

I knew what I had to try, had heard what to do in this situation before. So I climbed into the tub behind her, holding her cold, wet body against my chest and reached forward to turn the shower on. Warm water sprayed over us, soaking my clothes.

"Come on, Cat," I pleaded, pressing my fingers past her lips, "please, don't leave me."

I pressed harder, my fingers dipping into her throat. I tensed when her body jerked and kept pushing my fingers down her throat until she puked. Tipped her forward to direct the puke into the drain and then leaned back to let her head rest on my shoulder.

"Hey, come on, Cat. Wake up, please."

I tried to shake her, which only resulted in a small groan. I had to force her to puke twice more before she started coughing and her eyes fluttered open.

"Oh my god," I sighed, wrapping my arms around her, "it's okay, I'm here, I've got you."

She tipped her head into my chest and started crying, clutching my shirt in her hands.

"Why...why would you...?"

"I didn't-"

"Don't...there's no way you can tell me this isn't exactly what it looks like. Why didn't you call me?"

She curled tighter against me and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hold back tears.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry, Stevie."

"Hey," I soothed, "we're okay, I've got you."

I leaned forward to turn the water off and pulled Cat up and out of the tub.

"Where are the towels?"

She gestured towards a closet and I got her to sit on the edge of the tub before I went to gather towels. When we were mostly dried off I picked her up and carried her to her room where I set her on the edge of her bed and kneeled down to look at her.

"Cat, where's your mom?"

"Gone, another work thing," she murmured, "said she'd be gone for a while."

"Come stay with me."

"Stevie, I'm okay...I swear, I didn't...it was an accident."

I reached forward to grab her hands in mine, "you don't have to lie to me, I want to help you. Pack a bag and come stay with me."

I was able to hold myself together until Cat was unpacking in my room and I left to empty medicine cabinets and hide the contents. It hit me then that I had just saved her life. That there had been a possibility of losing my best friend. I broke, sitting at the kitchen table. Buried my face in my hands and just let the sobs wrack my body until my throat felt hoarse.

Soon enough, small, cool hands wrapped around me and I felt Cat's face nuzzle into the crook of my neck. Felt the saltwater on her face as it dragged, soothing heated skin. I reached up with one arm, my fingers sliding through damp hair to hold her close.

I shivered when I felt her lips against my neck as she whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Stevie."

I had a new nightmare now. I was walking on a beach, surrounded by eery silence even though waves crashed angrily next to me. The moonlight cast a silver shine off the top of the water but there still wasn't enough light for me to see further than what was right in front of me. And then a flash of lightning and suddenly, I could hear everything. The roar of the water, the sand sliding under my feet, a mournful siren wailing in the distance, it was too much, too loud to think. I was running, feet sinking deep into the sand, running as fast as I could but going nowhere. Then another flash of lightning and everything settled. Crashing waves stilled, frozen in the air. The wailing didn't stop though, just became quieter and more haunting. My feet were stuck in the sand when I saw her, washed up on the beach. Cat's pale skin had started to turn blue. I struggled, trying to get to her, but the more I fought, the deeper I sunk in the sand. I tried to claw my way out, desperate to save her, but my arms were swallowed up. The sand consumed me until my head was barely above it and I couldn't move anymore. Another flash of lightning and the waves came down on her, sweeping her away. In an instant, she was gone, carried off into the dark. My screaming only stopped when sand filled my mouth.

The nightmares were catching up to me, keeping me up at night and exhausted all day. I'd been struggling to stay awake all day, my eyes getting heavier and heavier as the day wore on.

"What happened, Harrington? You look like shit. You know she's just another whore," Billy sneered, leaning against the lockers next to me, "not worth losing sleep over."

I rolled my eyes and huffed, "fuck off, Hargrove."

"Unless she's keeping you up a different way?" He smirked, a cruel glint in his eye, "that your thing? Get some friends together and pass her around? I hear she begs for it. You should invite me some time, I never got a chance."

I knew it was stupid, that he was bigger than me, stronger than me and could easily pummel me into the ground. But it didn't stop me from throwing the first punch. I got in a few punches before I was down on the ground, no longer fighting, just trying to protect my face.

All around us, people were yelling. Some cheering on the fight, some screaming for us to stop. Suddenly, Billy was yanked off me and held back by one of the guys on the football team. I was helped up to my feet, my head pounding as I glared at him.

"She was raped, you fucking asshole!" I spat, "those creeps drugged and raped your girlfriend and you just tossed her to the side! She needed help and you abandoned her!"

I didn't even realize that had come out of my mouth until I heard the reaction of the crowd around us. The gasps and murmuring. Billy's face dropped just before I heard.

"Steve?"

I turned to see Cat behind me, her face full of hurt and shock, eyes wide and full of tears. I knew I had fucked up, big time.

She turned and ran. Away from the school and away from me.

"Steve, I can't do this anymore. People won't stop talking, whispering behind my back. I don't know what's worse, the pitying looks some people give me or the accusing looks from people who still believe the lies. All I know is...I'm sorry...love you, Stevie."

Cat's voice on the answering machine sent chills down my spine. It was hollow, cold and lifeless. I knew what that voice meant, where her head was. I grabbed my keys and ran out to my car, cursing every second that ticked by.

I found her, barely conscious in a pool of blood. Choked on my sobs as I wrapped her wrists in bandages with shaking hands. Carried her to her room and helped her change into clean clothes before tucking her into bed. Saw the way her bones were even more prominent now than ever before. I stained my hands red cleaning up her blood and threw clothes and towels into the laundry machine. Scrubbed my hands raw trying to clean them before giving up and grabbing Cat something to drink and going back to her room.

I sat down on the edge of her bed with a heavy sigh, "Cat, you're out of control."

"Stevie.." she breathed.

"You lied...you lied to me and said you were fine," I choked, trying and failing to keep myself together, "I can't keep doing this, Cat. I can't let you keep destroying yourself...I can't lose you."

"I'm sorry..I don't mean to be a problem.."

I blinked tears out of my eyes and looked over at her, "please. Please, Cat. You need help. I can help you get treatment, or we can try to get through this ourselves but you need to want help. You need to let me help you," I pleaded, "please."

"I don't think I can.."

"You can, I believe in you. I'll be here to help, I'm always here for you. I won't give up on you. Please, try...for me? Let me take care of you."

She looked down, away from me, "you don't have to, Stevie. It'll be awful work."

I shifted so I could grab the side of her face in my hand, "not to me, not if it's you...I know it won't be easy but I want to," I took a moment before blurting out, "I love you. I love you so much, Cat. Let me help you, please?"

I felt her hand on my cheek, her thumb moving to brush tears away. I clasped my other hand around hers keeping it there and leaned into her touch. Leaned into the thought that everything will be okay, that she'll be okay and just let myself have that.

I could see Cat coming across the parking lot towards my car, moving slowly and giving me a tired smile when she caught me staring. I'd spent the weekend with her, changing bandages and doing my best to get her to eat small bits of food throughout the day. Something to try and bring her energy up, but she had slept most of the weekend and was still drained this morning. She wore one of my sweaters over her own, for extra warmth and for the longer sleeves to hide her bandages under.

She was almost at my car when Billy stepped out in front of her. Put himself between us and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Cat, can we talk?"

She hesitated before jerking her head to nod, "okay."

"I just..I was a fucking asshole. I shouldn't have just taken their word, I should have asked you what happened."

"Thanks," she mumbled, trying to move around him.

Billy caught her wrist in his hand and I had to hold myself back when I saw her wince, her whole body tensing as she tried not to react.

"Wait, please," his grip loosened to slide up her arm as he drew closer.

My teeth were on edge, clenched together so tight I thought they'd crack. I kept Cat in my sight, ready to step in if she needed me.

"I love you," he murmured, "don't you get it? We could be together again."

She looked down for a moment, her eyes glassy when she looked past Billy's shoulder towards me. There was a moment where I thought she'd be back in his arms. I took a small step forward, waiting.

Cat stepped out of his grasp, "no, we can't."

She walked around him at the same time I continued forward to meet her halfway. I wrapped my arms around her when she buried her face in my chest and kissed the top of her head. I cast a glance toward Billy, who looked hurt and angry before storming off to his Camaro and tucked my face against Cat's hair. Breathed in her vanilla scent and felt love shining in my chest.

"I'm here, I've got you," I whispered, holding her tight.

"Stevie," Cat murmured, "is something going on?"

I took a deep breath and buried my face in the crook of her neck, shaking my head softly. I'm fine, I need to be fine.

She rolled in my arms so she could face me, "what is it? Talk to me."

My heart started to race as my eyes began to water. I tried to blink back the tears, I need to be fine.

"I'm fine," my voice wavered.

"Don't lie, not to me."

I blew out my breath, feeling my lip tremble when the words hit my tongue.

"What is it about me that's not good enough?"

"What?" She leaned up on her elbow, worry creasing her eyebrows.

Tears started to roll down my face, "am I doing something wrong?"

"Oh, Stevie," she soothed, her hand coming up to hold my face, "no, you're not doing anything wrong. Why would you think that?"

I held her hand tight, pressing it to my face and let my fears out, "you're not getting any better...and I just, I can't...those times I found you, I thought I'd lost you and it almost destroyed me. I don't, don't know what I'd do if you died...I couldn't bear it, not if I could have saved you. Please, tell me what you need...what can I do?"

"Stevie? What are you doing here?"

It was just starting to cool down as the sun began to set and I had planned a surprise date for us. The back of my car had everything I needed to take Cat on a picnic before driving out of town to the drive in theatre.

I reached out and took her hand in mine, "I planned a surprise date for us. If you want to come with me, that is."

She smiled, her eyes twinkling as she looked at me, "I'd love to. Do I need anything? Am I dressed okay?"

Cat was dressed in one of my sweaters, a dark blue one that hung loose over her frame and almost reached her knees, and a pair of dark leggings. Black hair piled messily on top of her head. She looked relaxed, beautiful.

"You're perfect," I murmured.

"A picnic?" Cat held her arms crossed over her waist, still nervous even though we'd been working together to help her get better, "I don't know..."

I flattened out a blanket overlooking the lake and turned back to her. Crossed to grab her hands in mine and loop them around my neck and smoothed my hands down her back.

"It's okay, I'm here," I whispered, touching my forehead to hers, "you can do this. You're so strong and so beautiful...inside and out. Trust me?"

Her fingers combed through my hair, sending chills down my spine, "yes."

I kissed her forehead softly before leading her to sit on the blanket and started pulling out the food I'd brought. I pulled out containers of fruit, cheese and crackers and a couple of drinks and set them down in front of us.

"This is only part one of our date, so I just brought a snack."

In truth, I knew bringing too much food would stress Cat out, but I made sure to pack things I knew she liked to hopefully get her to have more. She smiled, grabbed a bright, red strawberry from a container and scooted over so she could lean against me. 'Don't think, just eat,' was the motto we'd come up with so she started idly talking about her day, what she was going to do for the rest of the weekend and what she wanted my help with for class. We sat there and watched the sun set over Lover's Lake, just relaxing and enjoying our time together. Cat ended up eating more than I thought she would, distracted by talking until we realized the food was gone. She turned to me and beamed, practically glowing with happiness.

"Can I kiss you?" I murmured.

Her lips were sticky sweet, a smile stretching so far I could feel it. She twisted in my lap, wrapping her legs around my waist and tangling long fingers in my hair. I held her waist with one hand and her face with the other. With a sigh, her lips parted and her tongue cautiously swept across mine. She stole the air from my lungs like she needed it to keep her afloat and I happily let her. Would let her take my last breath if she needed. I forced myself to break the kiss, to tip my forehead against hers and try to catch my breath.

"I love you," I whispered, lips brushing against hers.

"I love you," she breathed.

"I don't want to die anymore."

I pulled my head back to look at her. She was curled against my chest as we laid in bed, a soft glow illuminating from a lamp. I slid my hand between the light sheet and Cat's bare skin, my fingers lightly running along her side. Cat twisted her hand in mine, tracing my palm absently. I stayed quiet, pressing a kiss the back of her head.

"I haven't for a while now...not even sure I wanted to before...I just, I felt like I was drowning, y'know?"

I nuzzled into her hair, "mhm.."

"I'm so sorry, Stevie...for everything. I wish that I could take it all back," she sniffed, "I wish I could have spared you...been a person, not a problem."

I shifted, rolling to look at Cat and holding her face in my hand. Wiped a tear away from her cheek with my thumb and shook my head lightly.

"I don't...if this was us meeting for the first time, I'd do it all again. The tears, anxiety and nightmares, everything...you understand? I'd go through hell if it meant I could hold your hand. You were never a problem, you needed help. I would go through that again and again because I love you."

She pressed her face into my hand, inhaling deeply and smiling, "I love you."

Through therapy, Cat found that she loved working out with me. She loved finding beauty in strength, loved pushing and challenging herself to do better every day. Muscle had been building under her skin, softening once harsh angles. She was a whole new person now, proud of the muscle that helped out lift me. Liked to make a show of opening jars for me just to make herself laugh. Sometimes, I'd purposely tighten lids just to see her smile when she pried them off.

Sure, we still had bad days. Days where I jolted awake in the middle of the night and held my breath as I waited to see Cat's chest slowly rise and fall. Days where Cat would stare out absently, fingers grabbing at curves or lightly tracing scarred skin. Scars that were hidden by tattoos now, invisible to anyone who didn't know. Days where we needed some extra love. But those times never lasted and became less frequent the more we grew.

Cat raced up the last of the hill, panting when she turned to smile at me.

"I beat you!"

I jogged up the last few steps and grabbed Cat tight, lifting and spinning her around.

"Steve!" She laughed, "put me down!"

I set her down, spinning her so we could both look out over the cliff at Lover's Lake. Set my chin on her shoulder and hugged her gently.

Looked over the water, shimmering silver in the golden light of the afternoon and decided this was perfect.

I turned my face into her neck, kissing gently and murmuring, "can I keep you?"

I was hyper aware of the weight in my pocket, of my fluttering heart and of her skin against mine.

She turned her face, looking over at me as much as she could, "what?"

I used one hand to spin her around, my other hand sliding into my pocket. With the cool metal between my fingers, I dropped to my knee.

"Cat, you are...everything to me. I want to wake up next to you every day, I want to take care of you and love you for the rest of my life..."

Her breath hitched and her fingers started to tremble in mine, her eyes tearing as she looked at me, "Stevie..."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and looked up at her. At the love of my life, the one person I would lay down my own life for and asked.

@alias-b @charmed-asylum

#billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington

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andersoncharm · 4 years ago

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Don’t Read The Last Page- October 24, 2020

MiniPara: - Don’t Read The Last Page

Rating: PG.

Pairing: Seblaine.

Sebastian: smythesm

Blaine: andersoncharm

When: October 24, 2020- Two days after Blaine’s 24th Birthday.

Location: Sebastian’s Apartment- Boston, MA

Notes: Sam visits Blaine for his birthday week and gets to know Seb a little. He gives Blaine some unexpected news that could change Blaine and Sebastian’s lives…

Warnings: Mentions of death. Parental Death (Blaine’s Mom), Mentions of toxic past relationships. Mentions of brief past Klaine.

Extra Warnings: (This hasn’t been brought up for a bit but, this RP is not Kurt Hummel friendly. You’ve all been warned.)

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine tipped a sip of his tea attempting to hide the smile that had overtaken his face as he watched his boyfriend and his best friend place the freshly carved pumpkins out on the balcony. The visual brought him a joy that he’d not felt in a long time and he wanted to hold onto the moment, freeze it in his brain and save it for a darker day. They’d done six squash and each one had a dreadful grin or the face of a pup, or little cat whiskers carved into the shades of orange and yellow. He, Seb and Sam had spent the crisp day doing various autumnal things that Blaine wanted to do in sort of a birthday weekend celebration and Blaine’s perpetually worried yet happy demeanor over the last few days, had somehow evolved to an even bigger degree of happiness that balanced somewhere between being thrilled to downright ecstatic. Sam being here had brought a little slice of his childhood into his new world and Blaine was over the moon with the feeling of having them both near. If only David and Nick could be here to make it all even better.

He fought the urge to light each of the pumpkins from his spot in Sebastian’s apartment, but refrained- Sam would be leaving soon to go back to Ohio with his family for a few days before leaving for Japan and Blaine could wait before he used his favorite bit of spooky magic. Sam had been in America for almost two weeks now and he’d been in Boston for four days, Blaine only wished he had more time here. He sat his cup down and went over and opened the balcony door as Seb and Sam turned to come back in, the purple and orange glow of the Halloween lights backing them as they stepped into the room.

“I know Sam’s got a long drive ahead of him so I’ve made a kettle of hot water for tea and a pot of coffee, the two of you can take your pick. And yes, Sam, there are about six different types of creamer to choose from.” He rolled his eyes at Sam’s grin and sat down to wait for them to come back. Sebastian came first and Blaine’s face once again threatened to crack open into another smile as his boyfriend snuggled into him, shivering from being outside. Blaine wrapped his arm around him and pulled him even closer before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s not that cold, baby.” He mumbled teasingly. Seb just grunted in response.

“God the two of you are so gross.” Sam mused with a smile as he came back into the room with the biggest coffee cup from the cupboard filled way too full and slightly sloshing over as he sat down at the end of the couch. “Gross, but like way better than the dude you dated in high school for those few months. Kurt? Did I tell you that I ran into him when I first got to Ohio? Still has major uh, god complex energy. God complex? Did I use that right? Yeah.”

Blaine’s stomach dropped a little at the mention of his brief, witch ex-boyfriend and he pulled Seb a little closer. Whether it was to keep himself calm or Seb safe he couldn't tell.

Sebastian’s POV:

Seb liked Sam well enough. He had brought him a plethora of Japanese candy and a Sailor Moon manga. Sebastian was touched by how thoughtful it all was even if the blonde man wrapped him in a giant bear hug that had lasted a little too long for his liking. Sam laughed at pretty much everything Sebastian said (“your voice is so monotone, dude! It’s hilarious!”) and was Blaine’s biggest cheerleader, had a giant grin and even bigger arms so what wasn’t to like? Ras liked him, too (probably because they had almost the exact same demeanor and ecstatic energy.) Sam fully embraced Blaine’s autumnal themed birthday weekend and didn’t make things seem third wheel-y.

Sebastian nestled the last grinning jack o’ lantern on the bannister as Sam stood back and wiped his palms on his jeans. They had carefully carried all six of the pumpkins they had carved with Blaine out to the balcony to display. Blaine had made a show of making sure each pumpkin had a little white votive candle inside of it though Seb knew that he would just use his magic to make sure they shone bright and long all season.

He nodded at Sam as if to signify that their work was done and they headed back into the warmth of the apartment. Sebastian immediately snuggled into his boyfriend’s warm arms, the scent of coffee and cinnamon candles instantly comforting. He wasn’t ready for the nights to grow colder and darker but he knew how much Blaine loved the colder months and so he welcomed the chilly air and tried not to grumble about missing his beloved sun too much.

Seb peeled himself out of the other man’s strong arms, flipped Sam off and poured himself a cup of coffee with a little half and half. He clasped his mug and reveled in the feeling of the hot ceramic in his hands. Sebastian joined the other men in the living room and tried not to audibly sigh when he noticed Sam’s coffee (kind calling it that, it was mostly caramel creamer) slosh onto the arm of the couch. He knew Blaine would magic it but his Virgo tendencies were itchy with the want to spray the spot down with cleaner and scrub vigorously.

His ears perked at the mention of Blaine’s ex. Sebastian felt the other man pull him a little closer and could feel the energy change around them. He sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat, “God complex, huh?” Sebastian took a drink of his coffee and watched Sam who seemed very chill as he sipped on his drink and gave Ras’s hair a ruffle. He could feel Blaine’s body tense to his side. “Humor us, Sam. What did he have to say?”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine’s heart thudded in his chest as he waited for Sam to reply to them. This familiar icy feeling of dread that he’d grown accustomed to ignoring over the past couple of years slowly crept over his body even before Sam spoke what had been said into the atmosphere. He tried his hardest not to react, tired not to grip Seb’s arm too tightly as his stomach fell to the floor. Sam’s perky, nonchalance made Blaine feel crazy about his internal struggle, but one quick glance at Seb told him that he wasn’t alone in his struggle. All at once he was happy that Hunter and Tony had already left a couple of days ago after meeting Sam and weren’t here to hear this. Wouldn’t it be their obligation to the Order to do something about it? Kurt was a Witch. A Witch that now knew about Sebastian and Blaine’s very forbidden relationship… He was especially thankful that Freya was out in the moonlight so that she couldn’t tell him she told him so. No matter how much she cared for Seb and of course, Ras.

“Well, he was like standing there, looking like he stepped out of some magazine, you know how he was, remember? And then he just casually asks how you are. So I tell him how happy you are and how you’ve got this awesome boyfriend named Sebastian that treats you like an equal and not like, you know, a trophy wife like he did and this fucking dude just keeps smiling at me. His eyes got all big and crazy looking and man, ooh, he looked like that cat from Alice in Wonderland, you know? Anyway, I’m glad you got outta that one as quick as you did.” Sam took a big swig of his too hot drink and winched but still managed to look so proud of himself for talking Seb and Blaine up. He really was a good best friend. But, all Blaine could feel was that shrinking dread.

Blaine licked his lips, a permanent chill settling into his bones as he sat his tea cup onto the coffee table in front of them before leaning back against Seb. His body tensed and ready for a fight as if Kurt or the Order and Council would bust through the door at any second. “That’s so strange. We dated for like two or three months, I can’t see why he’d even care what I’m up to.” He forced a laugh and reached out for Seb’s hand, linking their fingers and squeezing tightly so as not to float away. “How long ago was this?”

Sam took another drink of his coffee and shrugged. “Like when I first got into Ohio.” He shook his head. “I saw him about three more times on my trip, he didn’t talk to me or anything, just seemed to be at a few places I went to, I wouldn’t worry about it, dude. Like you said, you totally shouldn't give a shit about what he thinks anyway.” His best friend stopped and looked up at the clock with a sigh. “Ugh, I guess I should go soon. I promise the next time I come though that I’ll stay longer than four days, alright?” Sam stood up and not so carefully went into the kitchen to discard his cup into the sink. He pulled Seb into a hug that looked like it hurt before standing up and pulling Blaine into an even stronger hug, crushing him against him. Blaine knew he was tense and that he was distracted and he hated that he wasn’t able to say a proper goodbye to his best friend, but his heart was thudding so fucking hard in his ribcage that he wanted to scream.

He was such an idiot. How could he have been so careless? How could he have forgotten that Sam’s family was from Ohio that sweet, oblivious Sam would have no clue that all the Facebook and Instagram and Twitter posts had been glamoured so that it looked like Blaine was still single to Witchfolk? The high from his Birthday weekend crashed down hard and he couldn’t even bring himself to speak after Sam had left. His body felt heavy as he made his way back into the bedroom to get dressed for bed. He ignored Ras’ pitiful look which made him feel worse. He was working on autopilot as he changed his clothes and he could feel Seb’s eyes on him, searching for answers that Blaine didn’t have. His hands were shaking as he ran them through his curls before finally looking up at Sebastian, lost.

“Fuck, Seb…”

Sebastian’s POV:

It was a good thing that Sebastian was in law school and had been trained not to wear his emotions on his sleeve and had a pretty perfect poker face because his stomach was tied in knots. He knew that he and Blaine needed to remain calm while Sam was around. Kurt was a witch. A witch knew about them and it wasn’t just any old witch, it was Blaine’s ex. Sure, they had only been together a few months but they way it had been explained to Sebastian, he was sure there was a grudge. He could feel his boyfriend’s rigid body and slight shake. “Fuck him.” The words were meant for Blaine’s feelings as well as a reply to Sam’s story.

Sebastian awkwardly patted Sam on the back as he bunched him up into a hug. Blaine hugged his best friend and gave a half hearted goodbye and Ras gave him a few kisses and he was on his way out. Seb walked Sam to the door and wished him a safe trip. He watched Blaine silently head into the bedroom and sighed.

“What does this mean, B? What do we do?” He pulled open the top drawer on his dresser to find the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in amongst his boxers. He felt too agitated to get into his sweats or get undressed for bed. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep at all. Sebastian sat on the bed next to the other man, his cigarette in between his lips. “Can I get a light?”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine gave a half hearted smile and reached out his hand and with a surge of energy and a flick of his fingers Sebastian’s cigarette was lit. Seb rarely let Blaine use magic with him aside from sex and he knew this was an attempt to make him feel better. He watched as his boyfriend took a long drag, his eyes blurring from staring at the reddish orange glow of the magic lighted ash. He worried his bottom lip as his thoughts raced through his head. What would he do? He could go to Hunter and Tony, warn them that someone may know about him and Sebastian. Someone that could do something about it, that might dislike him just enough to turn him in. But, would Kurt? They’d only been together a few months and while they hadn’t had the best break up and Blaine had gotten angry about the way Kurt had controlled every aspect about their relationship right down to what Blaine wore sometimes, surely that didn’t mean he’d try to have him killed. Right?

He blinked remembering the disdain in Kurt’s eyes when he said he didn’t want to be his legacy, descendant prize. He remembered when Kurt had reminded Blaine that some witches never found their fate and that they should just settle for each other since Kurt understood what it was like to lose a parent. Blaine remembered how upset he’d been when Kurt threw his mother's death in his face and suddenly it was all too much for him at once. He shook his head and turned back to look at his boyfriend.

“Nothing. We’re not going to do anything, okay?” He knew it sounded insane and saying it out loud scared the hell out of him, but what was he supposed to do? “If we tell Hunter or Tony or my dad it will only expedite everything and I want to hold onto us for as long as I fucking can.” His voice was sharp, like he needed to convince himself and Sebastian. “Kurt has known about us for two weeks, surely he would have gone to the Council or the Order by now, right?” Or he’s just biding his time… He shrugged that thought off, knowing it was going to haunt his thoughts for the rest of his life, leaned in closer to Sebastian.

“Whatever has to happen is going to happen. All I know is that I’m not leaving and I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay? My top priority is keeping you safe and I plan on sticking by that.” He reached for Sebastian’s free hand and brought the back of it up to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, his eyes falling closed as he breathed him in. The overwhelming feeling of how much he loved this man and how much dying for him and them would be worth it overtook him and he wanted to scream and cry about how unfair the world was but Sebastian needed him to be calm and he needed to be calm for himself or he’d panic and where would that leave him?

“It’s going to be okay.” He mumbled the words, his conviction whooshing out of him as he scooted so that he was as close to Sebastian as he could get, his head pressing into his chest as he tried to steady his breathing and convince himself of the words' truths. It had to be okay.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke up towards the ceiling. He stared at the ceiling fan for a few moments, the light making little blue dots swim in front of his eyes. Seb squeezed Blaine’s thigh and held the cigarette out towards him. “Hopefully this kid has grown up some.” He took a deep breath and his lungs wavered a bit from the smoke and the fear swimming low in his belly. Sebastian didn’t like the sound of any of the words Blaine was saying. It all sounded detrimental and uncertain and scary. “You’re my top priority, too, you know. I need you to be safe, too.” He bit his bottom lip and looked into the other man’s warm eyes. Blaine looked scared and sad and that made Seb’s stomach knot up and his anxiety spike. “We can get through this.” Sebastian didn’t want to turn his courthouse tricks on with Blaine but he wanted to calm the other man down and reassure him somehow.

“Maybe we should lay in bed and watch a movie. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep and I don’t want to mindlessly stare at my phone all night. You can pick what we watch.” Sebastian stood up and grabbed the sweatpants he had set out for that night off of his pillow. “The water is probably still warm in the kettle. I’ll bring you some chamomile tea.”

So, even though his body felt sick with anxiety and his throat felt dry and his hands wanted to shake, he forced his voice to stay even and his hands to calmly grip the maroon mug that he filled with hot water for Blaine. Sebastian turned off the lights and plugged in the heating pad for Blaine, snuggled into his side as they watched Tangled and West Side Story. He drifted off to sleep before anything bad happened to Tony and Maria and wished on any star that happened to be out that he and Blaine would be okay.

/fin.

#para #smythesm #andersoncharm #seblaine witch rp #sebpara #seblaine #don't read the last page #mini para

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signs-of-the-moon · 4 years ago

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Moon Rise: Chapter 31

The next day brought with it murkiness and rain. Plans had been posponed until the downpour slowed. Meanwhile it gave Whitestar time to strategize in her den with the clan's senior warriors. "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather beneath Tall Stone!" That was Chicorynose caterwauling outside. Her voice sounded distant behind the drumming of rain against the rocky den roof. The call she meowed was an unusual one, but none unlike Swiftcloud had heard before. She's probably trying to organize patrols, she figured, rising from her nest. Swiftcloud looked back at her wide eyed denmates, none of whom seemed willing to get up.

"Grassclan warriors! Apprentices! Come out here!" Chicorynose demanded impatiently.

"But it's raining!" Gingerstrike complained, tucking himself deeper into his bracken and wool lined nest. It was unlike him to go against orders. Though, Swiftcloud thought that perhaps the mixture of the rain and the grief of losing Ambereye had made his attitude more sour. It was a shame to see the noble warrior so broken down.

"If she's so eager to speak to us she'll just have to haul her soaking wet hide in here," Bumblethroat chimed. The pale brown tabby tom was hardly different from his brother, the late warrior Butterflytail. Like him, Bumblethroat was a bit spoiled and adamant in his choices, but Swiftcloud always thought him to be more sensible. Though she supposed even the most rational of Grassclan cats would be hesitant to go on patrol during a rainfall.

"She better not get any water on us," Ladybugbite grumbled, grooming her calico spotted tail. "I don't know about all of you, but I'd like to keep the rain outside and away from my pelt, where it belongs."

Other cats mumbled in amused agreement. Swiftcloud scoffed. Though she had to admit she wasn't fond of the rain either, at least she wasn't as adamant about going out in it as the rest of her denmates were. Brave warriors indeed. Can't even handle a little rain. Swiftcloud lifted her chin, padding to the den's entrance. She gave one last glance over her shoulder towards the stubborn warriors before heading out.

"Tulippaw!" She called as she trotted past the apprentice's den. At once the brown and white she-cat emerged, bounding to her mentor's side. A squeal of surprise escaped her as the rain assaulted her thin pelt, probably sending a shock of cold through her. The apprentice gave a leap, pressing her soaked pelt against Swiftcloud's for warmth.

"I'm glad to see at least some cats are willing to come when their deputy calls!" Chicorynose remarked loud enough for all den bound cats to hear. "Since you two are brave enough to come out first, you'll be on hunting patrol with me." Relief claimed Swiftcloud at the news, and Tulippaw gave a little bounce.

"Will you teach me how to catch birds, Swiftcloud?" Tulipaw requested. "Nobody catches them the way you can."

"Oh wow, I'd be glad to teach you!" Swiftcloud was surprised by the apprentice's enthusiasm, especially in this kind of weather. Tulippaw had always been an excitable student, Swiftcloud had known, but she never saw this strong of an interest when Ambereye was teaching her. Chicorynose tipped her head, prompting the two she-cats to have a seat. In a heartbeat she turned, slipping into the warrior's den. Her voice carried even halfway across camp, though her words were lost in the patter of raindrops. Swiftcloud felt cold seeping into her fur with every moment and hoped Chicorynose would hurry along. My nubby tail might freeze off by the time we leave camp, she worried. A chorus of groans followed Chicorynose out of the warrior's den, followed by the displeased group of warriors who begrudgingly followed the deputy into the clearing.

"Come on, you know I wouldn't be making you patrol in the rain if I didn't have to. But we have to keep a watch on the Treeclan border. The fresh-kill pile is stocked enough that my patrol and I can fill the rest of the gaps in. You all only have to mark boundaries. So stop complaining." Bumblethroat grumbled something under his breath, making Ladybugbite snicker. Chicorynose turned on the tom and hissed at him before turning around. She stalked back to Swiftcloud and Tulippaw, waving her tail in a command for them to follow. The pair rose to their paws, padding behind the deputy and out of camp.

"Are we going back to the Forest Patch?" Tulippaw wondered aloud.

"Oh no, definitely not. Especially not after the stunt you pulled last time. No, we're going to Rabbit Gorge. I don't recall Ambereye telling me you ever successfully hunted a rabbit before. Today is a good day to practice."

Tulippaw groaned. "But Swiftcloud said she'd teach me how to hunt birds."

"There'll probably be some in the trees nearby the warren. You can catch birds there."

It had been a while since Swiftcloud had visited Rabbit Gorge. She'd originally favored the Forest Patch for it's abundance of cover. The gorge did not provide many places for a cat to hide, especially for her. Chicorynose and Tulippaw would have an easier time hunting there in the dull brown grasses where their pelts seamlessly blended. But Swiftcloud's mostly white fur would make her more easily spotted. Luckily, hunting rabbits was a team effort. In Rabbit Gorge, Swiftcloud was better at flushing out prey, leading it into the awaiting claws of her partner. It wasn't the way she wanted to teach Tulippaw to hunt, but she'd have to learn how to do it this way sometime.

The rain turned rich soil muddy, raindrops causing splatter and creating a fog of mud-spray. Hunting here today would be messy. But the rabbits would be more easily disoriented, disliking heavy rain almost as much as Grassclan warriors did. And their eyesight was poor already; the fog would further serve to provide the cats better cover.

"The three of us will work together today, " Chicorynose meowed. "In this weather, it would probably be for the best. Swiftcloud, I'll take Tulippaw over this way." The deputy pointed with her tail. "You track down a rabbit and chase it in our direction." Swiftcloud gave a nod of approval, turning tail and stalking off. She glided along a worn down path into the gorge, opening her mouth to taste the air. The warm smell of rabbit rushed over her scent glands, tempting the warrior closer. A bear-length in front of her, three rabbits sat huddled beneath a shelf of earth. The area they sat under looked to have been worn down by moons of erosion, most likely due to past flooding. But today it served as the perfect shelter from the rain. Along the same stretch of shelter, another fox-length down, Swiftcloud could see more rabbits huddled together. Why were so many outside in this weather? Was their warren flooded out? Worry began to prickle in the white and black patched molly's pelt. She suddenly felt unsafe here, alone in the gorge. But she wouldn't have to stay long, she reminded her. Through her anxiety Swiftcloud pressed forward, dropping into a crouch and stalking through the grass. She'd need to be as close as possible to chase the rabbits in the right direction. Quiet as a mouse, the patched warrior crept up on her unsuspecting prey. When she was in striking distance, she leaned back on her haunches. She gave a little wiggle, narrowing her eyes in foucus, before bolting out of cover. The rabbits shot out from their shelter like lightning, pelting away as fast as their swift legs could carry them. Swiftcloud was able to keep up easily, swiping at one and tripping it up enough to injure it. Two rabbits ran right into the patrol's trap, getting pounced on and killed off by Chicorynose and an eager Tulippaw. Swiftcloud made quick work of the third rabbit who let out a pained squeal as its life came to an end. Pride swelled in Swiftcloud chest as she picked up her catch, spying the rabbit Tulippaw had snagged. Swiftcloud dragged her prey over to the patrol, placing it before the paws of the deputy.

"Good catch!" She praised, smiling. "How about you two go and find yourself a bird? I'll see if I can nab another rabbit in the meantime." Tulippaw lit up at the suggestion. Swiftcloud twitched her whiskers approvingly. She flicked an ear, prompting her apprentice to follow her elsewhere. Swiftcloud's blue eyes scanned the few spare trees along the edges of the gorge, ears trained to the sound of chirping. There was prey nearby, though it was a couple bear-lengths off. Swiftcloud decided to make this a teachable moment, using this time to explain how she developed her bird hunting technique.

"Back when I was a kittypet," she began, "my Twoleg would swing around a vine with feathers on the end and make me jump to catch it. It was a lot of fun, and I used those skills to develop a technique for catching birds taking flight."

"Really..? Wait, you were a kittypet?" Tulippaw sounded shocked.

Swiftcloud nodded. "I was. I joined the clan when you were very young. I'm suprised no one told you. Or that you didn't overhear about it from someone."

"I think I did. But I guess I never really believed it. You don't act the way kittypets are described at all."

"That's because I never really belonged as a Twoleg's toy," Swiftcloud confessed. "I always knew there was something more out there for me. Joining Grassclan had been like coming home for first time. And ever since, I've done my very best to live the ways of a clanborn cat and to follow the Warrior Code."

"I think I wanna be just like you when I'm a warrior," Tulippaw decided. Swiftcloud felt honored. She'd never realized a cat would even want to look up to her. Then again, she'd never believed she would have an apprentice either.

"As long as you listen to your lessons and learn well, I think you'll turn out exactly as you want. Now, let me show you how to catch a flying bird." Tulippaw smiled brightly at her mentor, dropping into a crouch beside her. "At first you want to keep low to the ground. Step lightly, but swiftly, and keep from sight. A bird will see you before it will smell you, but on the ground it'll feel you first. Use a mouse hunting crouch to start, then when you're close enough change your position to have your haunches raised." Swiftcloud demonstrated, Tulippaw following her every pawstep. Swiftcloud's voice dropped to a soft whisper as she continued. "That way you're ready to leap when the bird takes off. Then, spring out using the power of your back legs, leap up, and swipe at the bird's wings." Tulippaw gave a nod, continuing on her way as a wood pigeon dropped down from the trees, directly in her path. The apprentice gave a glance back at her mentor before putting her focus forward. Haunches raised, Tulippaw hesitated a moment before leaping. The bird gave a startled coo, flapping it's wings and taking off. But before it could get far Tulippaw leaped up, slapping the creature back to the ground. She pressed a paw to it, lunging forward to snap it's neck. The wood pigeon lay limp beneath her grip, and Swiftcloud purred approvingly.

"That was awesome Tulippaw, great job! Let's go show Chicorynose now and head home."

~~~

"Cats of Grassclan." Swiftcloud could hear Whitestar's meow as she crawled through the bramble tunnel, emerging into the clearing. A meeting had been called; luckily the patrol had made it home just in time to listen in. Swiftcloud hurried along with her rabbit still dangling in her maw, depositing the prey on the fresh-kill pile. Chicorynose and Tulippaw were right beside her, putting down their catches to sit and listen to what Whitestar had to say. "Tomorrow, we will set forth on our mission to push back the Treeclan border. After careful discussion with our senior warriors, a sneak attack seems the best approach. Only Fighters and Spies will be required for this task. Treeclan think they can waltz onto our land and claim it for themselves. And that is exactly what we are going to do to them. Spies will watch out for Treeclan patrols, while Fighters will advance ahead deeper into the Forest Patch. We will go as far as we possibly can, but not further than the Thunder Path. I don't expect us to make it that far tomorrow, but if we keep it up and if we win, we should be able to claim our new borders within a moon. It will be dangerous. Fighting is guaranteed to ensue. But Starclan willing, this war will be over soon." At once, Grassclan erupted into cheers, yowling their approvals of the new plan ahead. Swiftcloud, however, remained silent. She knew that pushing the border had been her idea, but she couldn't help feeling anxious for it. It's for the good of the clan, she told herself. But so many will get hurt in the process. But...it has to be done. Come what may, this was the only solution to their troubles. Treeclan would never give up more land willingly. Grassclan would have to take it by force. For the good of both the clans.

#warrior cats #wcs #warrior cats ocs #Signs of the Moon: Moon Rise #Moon Rise #chapter 31

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hollandroos · 6 years ago

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How Could I Not? | Seven

Playlist | Wattpad | Series masterlist

Summary: You and Tom are only supposed to be friends... friends who sometimes take things a step further and friends who can’t seem to spend longer then a few days apart. But that can all change with a positive pregnancy test and Suddenly you have to work together more then ever to prepare for the new life you created. But is it really that easy?

Words: 3361

Warnings: Lots of talk of adoption. Please don't read if that is a sensitive topic for you and hold back any nasty comments until you read future chapters, thank you!!

Please remember to reblog/comment/send an ask if you enjoyed this!!

Read the previous chapter here!

It wasn’t really anyone's fault that you forgot there was food in the oven – what, with the gentle tune of the Beatles playing overtop of a chorus of everlasting laughter between the two of you, not to mention the snoring dog in the corner of the room. Something was bound to happen – it was you and Tom, for crying out loud.

“Dance with me,”

Tom says it as a statement, not a question. He wants – no, he needs you to dance with him. He needs to feel his arms wrapped securely around your waist, to feel your feet move in time with his. It was so cliche, really, but Tom lived for cliche.

He was the type of go out of his way to surprise his love with roses on his way home from work, one for every time he’d wanted to send a quick ‘I love you’ text that day but hadn’t been able to. The type to spend hours perfecting the best meal he could muster up and additionally, plate it with a glass of the best wine he could afford. The type to kiss in the rain, if he had the chance.

You open your mouth in protest, the smell of the cheesy pasta dish wafting around the kitchen. “The dinner–”

“Dance with me.” Tom all but smiles, words slipping from his mouth with such ease and suddenly you’re putty in the palm of his hand. And you don’t hesitate to mould into his body, allowing yourself to fall into him.

“Why did you want to dance with me?” You chuckle, leaning your head against him. You give in, allowing Tom to take you wherever he wants to go. That seemed to be nowhere and you find yourself swaying gently in the comfort of the area between the kitchen and the living room.

Tom shrugs his shoulders. “Jus’ felt like it.”

You hum, breathing in the scent of his cologne. You’d learnt that it was some kind of axe spray that he had cans of hidden around the apartment – such as in the kitchen cupboards and tucked away in his car. The song finishes and a new one begins, one Tom wasn’t aware of but the last thing he wants to do is complain about the pre-nineties tune when he has you right there, humming gently along with the lyrics.

Your eyes are closed and you look at peace as he rocks you two back and forth, feet both stuck to the floor as you sway.

His heart beats prominently in his chest and it’s nearly impossible not to count every beat. Every beat tells you that he’s there with you, reminding you of the fact that you’re beyond lucky to have him. And funny enough, Tom was thinking the same about you.

Your peace is short-lived, however, as mere minutes later there’s a horrid – god awful smell and you can’t even hide your disgust with your face in his chest.

“What’s that smell?” Tom mumbles, screwing his nose up.

And you want to ask the same question – before you gasp, eyes widening and you push yourself away from Tom making him stumble back slightly. For a few moments, the brunette stands in confusion before he himself is hit with the realisation.

“The food, Tom, we burnt it!” You exclaim, rushing to the oven. You hardly have time to slip the oven mitt over your hands but that doesn’t matter – because the second you open the oven door black smoke drifts out, flooding the kitchen. “Fuck, I told you we were going to burn it.” You curse under your breath, resisting the urge to cough as you turn the oven off.

“Sorry, love,” Tom says half-heartedly, resisting the urge to laugh at the sight of you looking so frantic. If it weren’t for the clouds of smoke painting your kitchen darker hues of grey then he would’ve laughed. Surely. “Got too distracted, maybe next time I’ll listen.”

He was distracted by your humming, and thoughts he couldn't simply shove away such as the thought that you fit against him so easily. Like two pieces of a wazzgij puzzle.

“Maybe,” You taunt, bringing the meal out of the oven. It didn't take a second opinion to tell that it belonged in the bin, right ontop of the expired cat food. “Should we just order pizza?” You speak between coughs.

You continue to wave the towel around the living room, praying the smoke detectors won’t go off again. Toms antics had already set the alarms off once, nearly three months ago now and he seemed to be the only one in the entire evacuated building that found it amusing. He had stifled his chuckles in the rain, cheeks tinted red and hair flat against his forehead.

But now, the room stunk. The smell makes you screw your face up in disgust. That was definitely going to be the last time you were going to attempt to make a fancy meal.

“Pizza sounds good.” Tom agrees, feeling his stomach begin to rumble. And to think, the smell of the charcoal lasagna stole his appetite for a solid minute. “I’ll see to it, can I use your laptop?”

“Yeah, it’s sitting on the couch, I think.” You speak, raising your voice so he can hear from the living room. “Get me the cheesy one with the stuffed crust! That’s my favourite.”

“I already knew that,” Tom calls back, typing in the six letter password. “Dominos or pizza hut?” He asks, looking up briefly.

You’re humming a song in the kitchen, competing with the buzzing fridge but Tom can make out the lyrics to Hey Jude by the Beatles. The smell of the burnt lasagne barely bothers you anymore as you sway your hips to the song playing through the speakers and your lips. He smiles to himself, watching you prance carelessly around the kitchen with a flannel shirt pulled over you, tucked into a pair of denim shorts. Laptop and rumbling stomach forgotten, his eyes sparkle with joy at the sight.

He makes a small note to let you play your music more often, even if it wasn’t his favourite – because the light that adorns your eyes is simply captivating. He’s stuck in the best kind of trance.

Hey Jude, don't be afraid You were made to go out and get her

“Dominos. Pizza hut is nowhere near as good.” You tell him, testing the water with your fingertips. You wince when it’s too hot, pulling your hand to your chest and decide that the awaiting dishes can simmer a little longer. Tom grimaces and looks back at the screen. There’s a picture of you and Laura taken last summer, wearing matching dresses and oversized sunglasses hugging your noses. He can’t remember if he took that photo – it may have been Harrison.

That was the same holiday that the set of you took a road trip and found yourselves renting a caravan and setting it up next to the beach. Mornings were spent sleeping in – or for you and Tom, hiding beneath the sheets with childish grins on your faces while your friends slept and nights were spent sitting by the ocean, threatening to push one another in and sharing chicken and vegetable kebabs.

The minute you let her under your skin Then you begin to make it better

You were getting under his skin, making your way into his heart and you were yet to realise it. That had happened long before your holiday trip. But he liked it. He liked the way your mere presence could make him feel like he was on top of the world and somehow – somehow, the glint in your eyes reminded him of the stars that he could and would stare at endlessly every night before bed.

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain Don't carry the world upon your shoulders

“So cheese with a stuffed crust and Hawaiian for me?” He finds himself asking, cursor hovering over the ‘add to cart’ button. He was thankful for twenty-four seven delivery – a new addition that he often found himself succumbing too at one am. Maybe it was becoming a bad habit but he couldn’t say no. His self-control was discarded in the am.

“Garlic bread too.” You remind him, dipping your hand into the soapy water. Suds end where your wrist begins.

Tom directs the mouse over to the tabs, squinting his eyes at the bright light and nothing can stop him from pressing the extra tab, his pure curiosity overriding the fact that the two of you had an unspoken rule about invading the other's privacy. But he couldn’t stop himself when the eight letter word caught his eyes.

It started with an A and ended in N. The second letter was D, third O.

Tom bites his lip, switching tabs and silently deciding that the pizza can wait another moment.

‘Looking at adoption. Things you must know.’ ‘Adoption agencies UK.’

You know when people say that they felt their breathing stop? well, Tom did then – for sure. There’s also the feeling of his heart dropping out of his chest, plummeting into his chest.

One second it’s there, beating, pumping blood throughout his body and the next he’s stuck staring. Unmoving. There are not enough words in the human language to describe the confusion Tom experiences as he tries to read the page with hazy eyes.

There’s a feeling of disbelief because Tom swore you wanted this as badly as he did – maybe not at first, but maybe the excitement hit after the first ultrasound. Or maybe it was when he dreamt about taking his little girl to the beach for the first time or coming home to a chorus of soft, baby giggles.

Toms had photos of outfit ideas for his little one already. He had a Pinterest board of parenting tips and had even started listing a couple of names. He liked Emilia for a girl and Sutton for a boy. Marlowe was on the list too, and Starlette. Harrison had suggested Luna and his mother had suggested Max. Maybe he’d fallen too deep into his own world and forgotten that you had your own.

The song finishes, the soothing voice of the Beatles fading out slowly. Just slow enough for your humming to fade out with it, and you look over to see your best friend unmoving in his spot and while you can only see him from the side on, you notice his hand, stiff over the cursor. Suddenly the burnt lasagna and boiling sink seems unimportant.

“Tom?” You prompt, stepping around the kitchen table. Bubbles drip off of your hand and land on the floorboards, a safety risk you’d remember to look at later.

He blinks once before scrolling, seeing a series of previously opened articles and his heart succumbs to nothing but broken, confused pieces.

“What’s this?”

He picks up the laptop and shows you what’s on the screen and you tense. Be it from frustration because he invaded your privacy or the fact that you’d been caught – the bench suddenly seems so cold beneath tense fingers.

“Why are you looking through my stuff–” You snap, biting into your gum to keep you from going off at him.

He grits his teeth, placing the computer down on the table and stands up. He’s tense, clearly, and knuckles are clenched at his side with so much might. Tom rarely got angry, in fact, he hardly ever found himself fuming but here he was. And here you were a mere few meters away.

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Tom,” You sigh, letting out a breathe as tears glisten in his eyes. Tom looked a good concoction of angry and deflated. Shocked too. “Of course I was going to tell you but I just needed… I needed more time to wrap my mind about this entire thing.”

“Were you going to tell me?” He asks again, only this time the words are more muffled and less coherent then before.

A sigh leaves your lips. One that said more then words could. On one hand, you want to run into his arms and mutter apologies – admittedly Tom looked really cosy right now. You’d much rather be bundled up in his arms, a warm blanket thrown over your shoulders then argue with him. But you also know that you need to stand up for yourself and what you were doing.

“You were so excited. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

“You can’t just… you can’t just consider other options and not tell me, not when you were so ready to go through with this.” He struggles to form words, finding that everything he wanted to say he probably shouldn’t.

The pets seemed to be completely unaware of what was happening. Both lay still, the cat purring softly against Tessa as if using her as a pillow. Much like Tom did when he was sleeping, Tess snores lightly. You and Tom both secretly wish that you could be as chilled as your pets, but don’t voice your thoughts.

It’s crazy that – how everything can fall apart so suddenly. One second you’re laughing over burnt lasagna, praying that the smoke detector won’t blare at any moment and arguing over what takeouts you’ll get instead because neither are you are decent cooks and the next you’re admitting that you probably tested your trust. And that now there may not be much to rebuild.

Swallowing back your nerves, you clench your fists at your side. “Don’t tell me not to consider other options. You don’t get to tell me not to do that.”

“But that baby is mine too,” Tom was seething with anger and you were about to collapse from feeling all too many things at once. You’d gone from a giggling mess to outright fearful of losing everything you’d built. “We’re in this together, remember that? We both agreed on that.” Tom lets out a shaky breath.

“We are in this together but we need to look at the fact that we do have other options too–”

Tom interrupts you abruptly. “You moved in here so that we could look after our baby together! I asked you to move in here to make things easier, that’s what we agreed on, was it not?”

“You asked me to move in because you wanted me closer in case anything happened to me or the baby while he or she is still inside me.” You correct, practically seething with frustration as he speaks. Every word made you feel smaller then the last. “This doesn’t mean that I don’t love the baby, Tom, of course not. How could I not love him? I’ve been tracking the growth, watching for signs that something could be wrong. Shit, I’ve been doing what I can, when I can.”

For a few moments, your words simmer in silence – at least what silence was possible overtop of the radio which played another one of your songs, only quieter this time and you weren’t in the mood to hum.

Tom was too busy trying to come up with the best thing to say but all he could come up with was eight words.

“I won’t let you give up our baby up,” Tom says, quietly but harshly. Bitterness laces every word, dripping from his lips like venom and you’re more then aware of it – as well as the fact that Tom had never spoken to you in that tone before and you were more then sure that you didn’t like it.

Our baby.

“We need to talk about this properly.” You try, far from fed up over arguing like children.

Tom agrees, but he can’t see much beyond the feeling of betrayal. If he could even call it that.

“I thought you wanted this, you know? You led me to believe that you wanted this and you were going behind my back–”

“You think I want to give the baby up? You think it doesn’t break my heart to consider other options?” You speak up, the urge to breakdown growing stronger. But you wouldn’t in front of him. “Jesus, Tom, we told your parents about the baby and they embraced us with open arms and promised to do what they could. We told mine and they walked out. I’ve texted my mum every day but I’ve heard nothing. I want my family back.”

“I think that you’re being selfish.”

You scoff.

“Did you really just go there?” He doesn’t respond, swimming in his own guilt. “I’m not selfish for considering other options when I’ve given up so much already and if you can’t support me then so be it… but don’t tell me that I don’t have other choices here.”

Tom doesn’t know what else to say. He feels frozen in his spot, trying to take in and accept every word that falls from your lips but he can’t find it in him to respond. The sickly smell of burnt lasagna was long forgotten by either of you, as was his hunger that had since subside and was replaced by an overwhelming amount of frustration.

You, on the other hand, want to yell at him for not answering you. You want to demand an answer because the silence was deafening and you just needed an apology or at least the knowledge that you can talk about this with him instead of yelling and having to defend your side.

Gritting your teeth, you pick up the nearest coat which happened to be strewn over the chair and wrap it around you, then going back to the kitchen counter where you hastily grab your phone and car keys. The gentle jingling of the keys snaps Tom out of whatever haze he was in.

“I’m leaving, Tom, call me when you actually want to talk like adults – like two adults who are supposed to be bringing a baby into the world.” You spit, missing the remorse that crosses his face at lightning speed.

“Don’t go, we need to talk about this.” He extends an arm and tries to grab yours and for a second, he succeeds, right before you tug yourself from his grasp and glare.

“Why? So we can continue to argue?” You stop, waiting for Tom to answer but he doesn’t. He knows you’re right. “I don’t want to have this conversation like this and I won’t be made to feel like the bad guy when you refuse to even hear me out without losing your temper.”

A large part of you wants him to tell you not to leave, to say that you can sort this out in the morning when you’re both not angry about the invasion of privacy and about him getting mad at you for considering other options and additionally, for calling you selfish. And then maybe you’d apologise for not telling him.

Admittedly, you could admit your mistakes.

And if Tom told you again not to leave, then maybe you wouldn’t have stormed out of the apartment but instead to your bedroom where you’d stay until dusk. Then, you’d creep into his room and you’d discuss this when you were both calm and steam – highlighting your anger, wasn’t making its way out of your ears.

Tom is left in the apartment. He couldn’t necessarily say that he was by himself because he had Oscar and he had Tessa. And it’s Oscar that crawls onto his lap when he throws himself down onto the couch, head in his hands as he runs over every word thrown across the living room to the kitchen.

The cat brushes himself up against Tom, begging the man for a head rub and Tom does so without complaint – hand falling to the cats head. Usually, he would’ve grumbled about the cat... shoved him off and groaned but this time Tom gives in.

Maybe it’s the guilt that suddenly turns him into a temporary cat person.

“She’ll come back, Osc,” Tom says, more or less trying to reassure himself then the cat. “She’s just going to Laura's for a bit.”

He chews on his bottom lip, fingers running through ginger fur.

You were going to come back. And until then, Tom would grovel.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad Take a sad song and make it better

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luvdsc · 6 years ago

Text

neptune’s atlantis.

Never underestimate a lady.

pairing :: jung jaehyun x reader genre :: fluff, action / pirate au word count :: 3,099 words warnings :: mentions of blood author’s note :: due to @winetae asking me for a jaehyun fic for months and then a pirate au last night, this finally happened. my knowledge of pirates is limited to peter pan and potc, so this is not historically accurate ↳ originally titled: “argh ye a fine swashbucklin’ lad” / “the jeffery roger”

The Vin et Gateau is your home.

After saving enough money to buy the small, but sturdy, beautiful ship, you set sail with an eager crew in tow and have not returned to your hometown ever since. And why would you? The sea welcomes you far better than any dusty and old village with equally dusty and old traditions that only offered you arranged marriage and childbirth, making you into another perfect cookie cutter wife.

The sea offers freedom, independence, and passion for you and your crew who also desired to escape the lackluster future you were all branded with simply because of your gender. The sea is now your hometown. The spray of salt tousles your already tangled hair and greets you every time you take up your rightful place at the helm. The water rocks your ship back and forth, the same way a mother rocks her child in a cradle, lulling you to sleep at night with the crashing of waves. The overhead cries of seagulls serves as a reminder of land refuge nearby, and the stars are your bright compass.

But the sea is also unpredictable. It is what drew you into its embrace in the first place. You thrive in the eye of the storm, seeking out the thrills that come hand in hand with navigating through tsunamis and hurricanes. And right now, it was a little too calm, too still, too pristine. You almost expect, anticipate even, what is about to come next.

Boom.

The sudden, unnatural crash of water that rings in your ears notifies you of an incoming raid. Yerim had called down to you earlier from the crow’s nest, warning you about a spotted ship: Neptune’s Atlantis. You remember hearing about them in your most recent venture on land, finding yourself in an obscure bar and listening carefully to the words of the madame working behind the counter. There was a new group of pirates in the waters from the east, who were deadly and calculating, succeeding in every one of their endeavors and maintaining their status as one of the wealthiest crews around. Armed with immense skill and dangerously handsome faces, they left behind a trail of broken ships and broken hearts wherever they sailed. Descriptions of many crews like this were commonplace and merely bar gossip. However, there was one tidbit of information that caught your attention.

The captain has never been seen.

Many tales have been spun surrounding the man who is an enigma himself. Stories of him being a ghost pirate, of him being so ridiculously scarred he could not show himself, that he has a claw for an arm and a gaping hole in his left eye socket, amongst other ridiculous speculations and wives’ tales only spurn on your own interest in this new ship and its mysterious captain. Only his name was known, of which people only dare to whisper in passing.

Jung Jaehyun.

Perhaps you may never say it aloud, but you are very eager, almost embarrassingly so, to uncover the truth about this man who appeared from nearly nowhere and molded himself into a legend.

You snap back into action when heavily saturated cherry pink smoke rises up from where the cannon had landed near your ship: a telltale sign of Neptune’s Atlantis. Immediately, you order Seulgi and Sooyoung to take charge below deck and position the cannons along with other members. They are to fire them after the third cannon from the rival ship.

Striding over to the railing of your ship, you look out, squinting in hopes of seeing the infamous ship. Your lips curl into a wicked grin when you finally spot them. After all, you are about to be reminded what the best part of being a pirate is. Other ships have learned long ago to steer clear of you after they were taught why you were called the most feared, ruthless captain with the only all female crew of equally vicious members. Dubbed as the Sirens by many of your defeated foes, you proudly hold onto that title. But, it gets a little bit too boring and mundane out here when no one dares to challenge you anymore.

Two more cannons from Neptune’s Atlantis are fired in rapid succession, and with that signal, your own cannons go off, the roaring shouts of your crew accompanying the loud booms. Your stomach flutters as the thrill of a new challenge tingles up your spine. It really has been too long. Your first mate, Joohyun, has taken charge of steering the ship towards your rival as you plan out the quickest and most efficient method of attack and plunder, gauging the upcoming looming ship and mapping out various scenarios within your mind. The ships meet all too soon, and soon, planks are roughly thrown across to connect them as unfamiliar, unwelcome faces swarm onto your ship.

Immediately, you draw your weapon when someone—who looks more like a young boy than a burly pirate with his large innocent eyes and baby face, somewhat resembling the cat you used to have—brandishes their sword a little too close to your liking. You block his attack with a small grunt, slightly straining against the amount of force he administered. In a few moments, you easily overtake him. He seems to be a newbie, you observe, and his hands shake as he clumsily pulls out a small revolver. You make a small noise of disapproval, quickly jabbing the tip of your sword through the loop of the trigger and fling the gun over the ship’s railing.

“Now, that’s playing a little unfair, isn’t it? You with a gun and me with a sword?” You pout, backing the pirate against the railing as your sword comes dangerously close to the center of his chest. “And I don’t like guns. It makes all the fighting happen a little too quick, you know? Anyone can shoot a gun. It might take a few tries, but they’ll hit their target. Swords require so much more finesse and technique, don’t you agree?”

You drag the sword’s tip across his shirt, making small slashes into his shirt until your initials are completed. He is shaking now, standing before you, and you sigh, “You’re no fun at all, not fighting back. Lucky for you, you aren’t the one I want. So leave before I change my mind.”

He takes off the second you drop your sword to your side. The rest of your crew is preoccupied, the sound of metal clashing against metal and battle cries are all that you hear. Your eyes flit across the new persons, searching for the one who started it all. Your instincts tell you that he is not here. You look towards Joohyun, who gives you an almost indiscernible nod, as she fights a ridiculously pink haired pirate. She now takes command of your ship, and you nimbly begin to make your way across one of the planks.

Another man blocks your entrance, and you exchange blows, ending with him making his journey into the ocean, his echoing screams ringing in your ears. With a sigh, you continue to charge on against two men at once. These men have become a bit of an annoyance to you with their fights that last only seconds, merely acting as flimsy obstacles in your path. You easily parry your way through the remainder of enemies in your path. And once you reached the other side, to your utter surprise, Neptune’s Atlantis is eerily empty. Several large splashes are heard behind you, and you look over and see that they have all infiltrated your ship, the planks joining the two now cast off and abandoned.

Unsettled, you cautiously make your way around the deck, hand resting firmly on the hilt of your sword and prepared to unsheathe it at any moment. You see nothing suspicious, and at last, find yourself in front of the door to the captain’s quarters. Reaching out, you harshly twist the doorknob open and enter, swinging your sword around in all directions in fear of ambush. However, nothing happens.

You are merely greeted with the sight of a tall man, dressed in a simple white loose shirt and tight dark pants tucked into his worn boots and a sword hanging by his waist, with his back facing towards you. And you just know. This is the captain.

He turns to face you, and your breath hitches in your throat, eyes widening a fraction of an inch. With porcelain skin without a single blemish, sharp dark eyes that easily pierce and haunt your soul if you still had one, equally dark hair styled in a way that only a few strands fall on his forehead, and lips molded into a smirk that holds far too many secrets: Jung Jaehyun is nothing like the stories you were told.

And that is when you finally understand how dangerous he really is.

“Welcome to my humble abode, Lady y/n.” His lips quirk into another one of those smiles that has you nearly reeling. He strides towards you, and you shift in your position, your grip tightening around your sword’s hilt.

“It’s Captain y/n.” You hold the weapon in front of you now, making no move to lower it as he comes even closer. You have backed yourself out of the room as he advances and are standing on the deck by now. “Stand back.”

He pays no heed to your words, and in less than a millisecond, your sword comes down, swiftly cutting through the laced threads holding the front of his shirt. His chest now exposed, he finally stops, giving you merely an amused look. Your eyes harden as you step forward, toe to toe, face mere inches from his, and press your blade into his skin, but not nearly hard enough to draw blood.

“Next time won’t come with a warning.”

His eyes flickering down to your lips for a fleeting moment, Jaehyun laughs mirthfully. “Oh, sweetheart, I have to admit, you’re much more interesting and far prettier than the others I’ve encountered. It’s a shame you still fell into the same trap. Curiosity and greed have never failed to lead to a pirate’s downfall.”

He quickly pulls out his weapon, engaging you in a sword fight within seconds, and you quickly fight back, parrying his every move. And immediately, you know this fight was different from all the others you participated in. He fights the same way you do, with the same fire, the same passion, the same raw eagerness. And to your utter dismay, he is better. His attacks are just as calculated and nimble as yours, but they are stronger. He retains a force much stronger than your own. And you know you already lost, but he refuses to hand you defeat so easily. Because like you, he enjoys playing with his food, playing mind games, toying with his opponent until they beg for their end.

His eyes sparkle as the two of you move back and forth, almost as if in a dance for two. In moments, you are almost left breathless, fighting back every blow with one of your own as nimbly as you can. Grinning and looking quite relaxed, he then continues where he had left off, casually blocking off another attack from you.

“You see, the myths cause enough curiosity for any pirate to abandon their own ship and search for me themselves. And boasting a vast amount of wealth simply seals the deal. Curiosity brings them onto my ship to find me, but greed makes them abandon that search and look for the gold. And that is when I strike.”

His sword hitches into the hilt of your own, and he successfully pulls the weapon out of your hand, haphazardly tossing it aside where it lodges itself into one of the crevices between the wooden boards. He comes even closer to you, and this time, you do not waver, standing your ground with your chin held high, as he circles around you, poking you with his weapon, like a predator and its prey. Coming to a full stop in front of you once more, he reaches out and traces his finger against the curve of your face before twirling a loose strand of your hair between his fingertips and then tenderly, almost romantically, tucking it behind your ear. Gazing at you, he leans in impossibly close, lips mere centimeters away from yours, and once again, you nearly forget to breathe. He can hear the erratic thumping of your heart trapped within your rib cage, and he leans back at last, a satisfied expression making its way across his face.

“But you,” his eyes twinkle as he grins at you yet again. “You went straight to me. I must say, I haven’t had a fight like this in ages, and it is quite refreshing. I’m sorry it has to end this way. Alas, a crew cannot function without its captain, and a ship without its crew is a ship for the taking. But do let me take a small token to remember you by.”

His sword is suddenly thrusted dangerously close to your face, almost slicing your cheek, and you know he could have easily marred your skin but chose not to. A lock of your hair falls into his palm, and he tilts his head, staring at you with such a delicate, soft look in his eyes, one entirely different from the expression he held mere moments ago in the heat of the fight.

“It’s a shame,” he hums, “Perhaps, in a different time, at a different place, I would have mistaken you as the treasure instead. But nevertheless, it’s best not to dwell in such fleeting thoughts. We’re here in this place in this moment. Now, would you like me to accompany you to the plank, Lady y/n? My mother taught me that I should never allow a lady to walk home alone.”

With the tip of his sword pressed into your back, his question is no doubt redundant, leaving you with no choice. You walk forward, reaching the start of the plank. You halt, hiding a small wince and gritting your teeth when the sword harshly digs through the fabric and into your skin. Shame, it was one of your favorite shirts, too. You turn to him, smiling sweetly and innocently, ignoring the scraping of the blade across your skin.

“Oh, but please, I’m still a lady, am I not? So dear kind sir, would you oblige to giving me one kiss goodbye?”

The familiar look of amusement and interest appears in his eyes as he lowers the sword ever the slightest. “Well, if the lady insists as her last dying wish, who am I to deny her?”

You look up at him through your eyelashes coyly, tongue darting out to wet your lips. His eyes quickly follow the movement, and you force yourself to hide a sneer threatening to form. Your hands grasp onto the silk front of his shirt you had ripped earlier, pulling him closer to you. With one hand still clutching the sword positioned diagonally across your back, Jaehyun places his other hand under your chin, tilting your head up slightly before pressing his lips to yours.

His lips are surprisingly soft and warm, crashing against yours in the very same way the ocean crashes onto the shore. You are sighing against his mouth, hands wandering as they explore his skin beneath the tattered shirt, and his tongue swipes at your lower lip to which your mouth willingly parts to allow him entrance. His eyes flutter shut as he cranes his neck to deepen the kiss even further. You kiss him back harder as the kiss becomes more passionate, yet delicate and gentle. You become lost in his embrace, and the clattering of his sword on the ground is faintly heard as he finally brings his other hand up to cup your face, his mouth ravishing yours.

In an instant, you reach down to grab the short knife hidden in your right boot, this time twisting around to pull him into a chokehold and pressing the blade against his neck with enough pressure for a thin line of bright crimson to show. You kick away the sword over the plank where it flies across the scratched surface and into the plunging waters.

“Never underestimate a lady, Jaehyun. Better yet, never underestimate a lady captain and her crew.”

For the very first time, his eyes betray his true feelings as they dart around in confusion and panic when you face him towards the ship deck. There, your crew stands, smirking, with a few mock salutes towards him. You grin, raising one fist up in the air as your members follow suit, raising their swords with loud shouts.

“You see, you really were one step ahead, I’ll give you that. But unfortunately for you, we were two steps ahead.

“We had already hid our treasure before we set sail and removed any anchors from our ship. My members jumped off as soon as yours threw the planks overboard. They made their way to your ship and waited patiently for the right time to show, while your crew is floating somewhere on my abandoned ship as of now.”

Jaehyun only stands still, silent, as you grin triumphantly. Joohyun and Yerim step forward with a coil of rope, tying the defeated pirate’s hands behind his back. You stand back, watching with satisfaction and carefully tucking your knife back into its original position. Your crew mates unceremoniously dump him into one of the life boats tightly tied onto the side of the ship’s hull.

“So, thank you, truly, for allowing me to become the new captain of Neptune’s Atlantis. I’ll take it as a small token to remember you by.” You begin to stride over to where he sits, his dark eyes now burning holes into your figure. Reaching out, your fingers wrap around your abandoned sword, once wedged between the floor boards, and pull it out with flourish. Twirling the sword in your hand before pressing it against the ropes anchoring the life boat in place, you lean over the edge, smiling mockingly at the glowering man before you.

“But, oh, sweetheart, I have to admit, you’re much more interesting and far prettier than the others I’ve encountered. It’s a shame you still fell into the same trap. Lust and pride have never failed to lead to a man’s downfall.”

With one sharp stroke, you cut the ropes.

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hereticpriest · 5 years ago

Text

Of Babes and Teds Part 2

Warnings: NSFW - oral sex and swearing

@lvngdvns

“My dude, you cannot be serious!”

“I am! See for yourself. She asked if we would go to the fair with her and Deacon.” Ted insisted, listening to Bill vaguely, though he gets distracted when he hears Dawn singing downstairs.

“Dude, why didn’t you make a move?! Dawn is a like, seriously bodacious babe!” Bill reprimands him, “What time are you guys going to the fair?”

“I don’t know, my dude. Dawn’s making breakfast. Soon, probably?” Ted muses, “You could just come over here whenever you’re ready. Dawn won’t mind.”

“Dude, you need to dress in your most excellent clothes. Bodacious babes need bodacious dudes.” Bill informs him, “I’ll be there in no time. Get going, dude!”

Ted hangs up, hopping in the shower after a brief interlude to listen to Dawn singing while she cooks.

Dawn brushes her teeth and her hair while waiting for things to heat up, but she doesn’t bother getting dressed yet. Her pjs are fine for now. She finishes making eggs, toast, bacon, hashbrowns and pancakes just as Ted leaves the bathroom after his shower and Deacon shoves past him on the stairs. He thumps down the stairs eagerly, sliding into the kitchen and beaming at the table laden in food.

“Woah! This is the biggest breakfast I’ve had in ages!” Deacon cheers, claiming a seat while Dawn sets the table with everything she’s made.

“Grab whatever you want. Make sure you leave enough for your brother. Do you want orange juice?” Dawn asks after checking the fridge. She pours herself some, and another glass for Deacon when he agrees, then leaves the carton on the table in case Ted wants some. Ted joins them a few minutes later, dressed in ripped jeans and a white shirt, topped with a black vest.

“Hey Dawn, Bill is gonna come over. That okay?” Ted asks, sitting down next to her and beaming at the amount of food she’s made, “Woah. There’s totally enough food. You cooked enough for an army.”

“No, Ted, I knew you were going to invite Bill over, and I was cooking for two young men and a teenage boy. You’ll all probably still be hungry after.” Dawn laughs, looking over him briefly then pretending she didn’t totally just check him out. It doesn’t take long for Bill to arrive, and he spreads his arms wide at the sight of all the food.

“Woah dude! This is awesome! Hey Dawn!” Bill circles the table, winking at Ted before grabbing Dawn’s hand and kissing her knuckles. Dawn giggles, rolling her eyes and giving his hand a squeeze.

“Hey Bill. You showboat.” Dawn teases, while Ted stares between them for a moment while trying to figure out how to one-up that. Bill tucks in, and Ted glances over at Dawn for a second before gently squeezing her knee. She smiles fondly at him, putting her hand on his and giving it a squeeze. She finishes eating first, pushing her chair back and leaning over to press a kiss to Ted’s temple.

“Alright boys, I’m going to go shower and get dressed. If you guys could all just eat and get ready, I would appreciate it.” Dawn hums, grinning when Deacon makes a ‘bleh’ sound over her kissing Ted. She leans in, pressing a loud smooch to his cheek while he shoves at her and laughs. At Bill’s protest, she blows him a kiss, then heads up the stairs. Bill kicks Ted under the table.

“Hey Deacon, dude, do you know if there are any wicked rides at the fair?” Bill asks to distract the teen. Ted mumbles something about forgetting something upstairs and follows Dawn. Seeing Dawn clearly looking for a towel, Ted steps up behind her and guides her to the right shelf.

“I figured you might not know where the towels were.”

“Thanks Ted.” Dawn smiles up at him after turning in the small space to face him. Ted hesitates for a second, but his intent is clear, and he is reassured as Dawn simply smiles up at him and waits. He leans down to her and catches her lips in a sweet kiss. Dawn sighs happily in response, dropping the towel and wrapping her arms around his neck. Ted skims his hands down her back to trace the curve as she arches into him, tentatively grasping her ass in his hands. Dawn moans softly into the kiss, running her fingers through his hair while he lifts her up and pins her against the closet door.

Dawn lets out a soft whine when Ted breaks the kiss to catch his breath, tightening her legs around his hips. He kisses her again, moaning against her when she slips her tongue into his mouth. She lays claim with the kiss, sliding her tongue against his and grasping at his back when he catches the rhythm. Ted seemed to pick things up quickly in practical application, and that held true for making out, apparently. However, he didn’t take control, even when she offered it to him. He only ground into her when she urged him on with the grip of her legs, and he only trailed kisses down her neck when she guided him down.

“If you hadn’t already showered, I’d offer you the chance to join me.” Dawn purrs in his ear, and he nearly headbutts her in his urgency to look her in the eyes.

“… I could totally use another shower. I didn’t uh… scrub. Well enough.” Ted mutters, his mouth dry.

“Gross.” Dawn teases, grinning, leaning in to kiss a trail along his jaw. “Did you wash behind your ears?”

“Uh… No?” Ted tries, and Dawn giggles, rubbing her cheek against his even though it makes his stubble bite into her skin even more than it did when he kissed her. Ted smiles when she giggles, peppering her face with kisses just to hear more. He doesn’t think about the fact that his brother and best friend are just downstairs and could most definitely hear them. He doesn’t think about the fact that it is going to be impossible to explain why he’s showered again. Dawn grasps at his back and guides him into another kiss, and he firms up his grip on her ass and carries her into the bathroom. He sets her on the counter, then grabs the towel she dropped and closes the door behind them.

“Hey, Ted?” Dawn asks quietly, biting her lower lip and kicking her feet innocently.

“Yeah babe?”

“Any chance you’ve got condoms laying around?” She asks, and Ted’s face goes white. Shit.

“Uhhhhhh…”

“Mmm, thought not. We’ll get some while we’re at the fair.” Dawn purrs, spreading her legs and eying him up and down, then nodding for him to come over to her. When he does, she smiles approvingly and steals a kiss.

“How about you get the shower running?” Dawn suggests, slipping off the counter and playing with the edge of her shirt and biting her lip suggestively. Ted swallows, nodding eagerly and moving to turn the shower on when she stops him.

“Take your shirt off first, baby. You’ll get soaked.” Dawn smiles fondly, giving his bum a firm tap, then turning away from him to undress. Ted does as he’s told, watching her pull her shirt over her head and toss it to the floor, and then following suit. He fumbles with the shower controls without looking away, mouth slightly ajar. Dawn kicks her pj shorts off, slides her thumbs into the straps of her underwear and delicately steps out of them, smiling when Ted groans audibly and she hears him mumble something to himself about ‘bodacious babes.’

Ted unbuttons his jeans as Dawn turns to face him, her abused lower lip caught between her teeth again. Her breasts are full and round, with small rosy nipples and a scar between them that was thin and short, but noticeable. She’s thin but not overly so, her hips wide and round and adorned with large star tattoos. Ted’s eyes go wide at the sight, taking several pauses to take in her body, trying not to stare at her trimmed pubic hair and pink pussy.

“You can’t shower in jeans, Ted.” Dawn reminds him, skimming her fingers over his belly as she shuffles past him and steps into the shower. She pulls the curtain shut, adjusts the heat, and ducks her head under the warm spray, listening to Ted shuffle around and mutter to himself. More about babes, and something about being better this time. She bit back a giggle, turning to face the showerhead, humming to herself as she listened to Ted kick off his pants and climb into the shower with her. When he touches her, it’s hesitant, but she moans and leans into it to encourage him. His hands skim up her sides, cupping her breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze. She arches in his hands, pressing her ass back into his hips and feeling his dick against her.

“Ted, babe, please don’t stop touching me.” Dawn moans, dropping her head back on his shoulder while he presses kisses into her shoulder.

“I don’t plan on it, babe.” Ted murmurs, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples, then pinching them gently to hear her squeak. Dawn takes his right hand in hers and skims it down her body, listening to his sharp intake of breath as she runs his fingers through her labia, and guides one into her. He follows her lead, gently feeling her out and enjoying the clench of her around him, until she pulls away. He watches her, a bit confused, as she drops to her knees and runs her tongue from the base to the tip of his cock. Ted lets out a low groan, hand shooting up to cover his mouth when he remembers that his brother and best friend are still downstairs.

Dawn sucks a lovebite into his inner thigh, stroking him slowly, then running her tongue over his balls, giving them a gentle suck. He ends up leaning against the shower wall, eyes locked on her while she licks her way to the tip of his dick, kisses the head, then opens her mouth and begins to swallow him down. Dawn can feel Ted shaking under her hands, pressed carefully to his thighs to stop him if he bucks into her mouth. From the look on his face, while he may have had sex before, it was likely quick and didn’t involve a blowjob beforehand. The idea that she’s his first in that department makes her hum, and Ted chokes, fingers tangling messily in her hair.

He cums quicker than he’d like to admit, but Dawn just licks her lips like that cat that got the cream as she stands. He catches his breath while Dawn shampoos her hair with his shampoo, and uses his bodywash. When she’s done, he kisses her hard, licking the taste of him from her mouth. He verifies that she’s done with her shower, helps her wring out her hair, then sets her on the edge of the tub carefully.

Despite having little to no experience in this, Ted catches on quickly, and Dawn has absolutely no problem telling him what she does and doesn’t like. His broad tongue and long fingers make up for an initial lack of technique, and he’s rather proud when Dawn begins to dig her fingers into his hair and guide him where she wants him. With two fingers curling into her at the perfect pace, and Ted’s tongue circling her clit, Dawn finds herself biting her lip to keep herself from screaming. Ted continues through her orgasm, notices the sudden flush of wetness but enjoying it, not recognizing until he hears Dawn panting that he’s made her cum. She shoves gently at his face to get him away from her oversensitive cunt, shaking as he pulls his fingers free, cleans them off, and pulls her into his lap. Dawn kisses his face clean, humming praises as she does, her arms around his neck.

“So good for me, Ted. You learn so fast. Wish you had a condom so bad, babe.” She purrs, and Ted beams at the praise, holding her tightly to him. He presses a soft kiss to her cheek, another to the corner of her mouth, and a third to her lips.

“We should get going, baby.” Dawn hums, “Bill and Deacon are definitely suspicious by now.”

“Oh. Yeah, bogus. I just wanna lay in bed with you now.” Ted pouts, and Dawn sighs happily at the sight, stealing another kiss.

“I’ll make the fair worth your while, Ted. I promise.”

Five minutes, a lot of hurried hair-drying, and redressed, Ted descends the stairs. He looks wide-eyed at Bill, who starts making ‘What the fuck happened?’ hand signals. Ted looks at Deacon, who is focused on shoving another pancake into his mouth, wrapped around bacon and an egg like a sandwich. Once sure he’d focused, Ted makes a couple of slightly lewd gestures, and Bill’s eyes grow wide.

Dawn follows a minute later wearing a cheerleader skirt from San Dimas High and a white t-shirt with a v-neckline that hangs low, but not too low to be appropriate. She’s wearing heart-shaped, rose-tinted sunglasses and Ted notices she’s stolen his jacket. Sublte, Dawn. Not that he hadn’t immediately snitched to his best friend the second he got downstairs.

“Hey Dawn, you ready to go? Little dude’s stuffed himself, so you’re going to save money at the fair on snacks!” Bill grins, and Dawn laughs.

“Bill, you know full well you’re all going to be hungry in an hour. You can’t fool me.” Dawn teases, skimming her fingers over Ted’s stomach as she passes him to harass Deacon.

“Get up, little dude, we’ve got places to be and people to see! I want to see how many tea-cup rides it takes to make you throw up!” She says, laughing at the eager cheers from Bill and Ted, and the groan it pulls from Deacon.

Luckily, they all get ready pretty quickly, and Dawn shoves her feet into her black converse, then leads them out to her Buick Grand National GNX.

“Car rules, boys, so listen up: Don’t throw up, don’t spill anything, and don’t leave garbage.” She insists, raising her brows until she gets a ‘Yes ma’am’ from all of them. She lets Ted fiddle with the radio, carefully pulling out of the driveway after verifying that Ted locked the front door.

“Can we get ice cream at the fair?” Deacon asks, and Dawn snorts.

“Told ya.” She hums to Bill, locking eyes with him in the rearview.

#Bill and Ted's excellent adventure #bill s preston esquire #Ted Theodore Logan #Ted Logan/OC #Ted Logan #Ted Logan/Original Character

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