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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

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Hvítr gown, nýr life (Ubbe x Reader)

This is my contribution to @geekandbooknerd 2k followers challenge! Congrats again, my dear!

My prompt was: "People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." - Cassandra Clare, City of Glass.

Couple notes for this fic- Bjorn & Torvi are still together because reasons. Italics mean speakers are using Old Norse.

The title means ‘White Gown, New Life’ in Old Norse.

Also, this is my first time writing Ubbe so.... hopefully its not OOC?

Words: 4800

Warnings: one or two swear words. implied sex. I think that’s it???

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius

"You cannot truly be considering this!" Bjorn thundered in the small, enclosed room.

Ubbe observed his elder brother- a man he had aspired to be like his whole childhood, a man he still looked up too, regardless of his faults. "Of course I am."

Bjorn slammed his hand on the wooden table, making it shake, as his voice shook like thunder in the room. "You are throwing your future away!"

"I am protecting our future!" Ubbe snapped, finally rising to his feet, irritation leaking into his tone. He met Bjorn's incensed blue eyes with his own resolute gaze. "We need allies, alliances, everything to make father's dream come true. If this is the price I must pay to fulfill Ragnar's dream, then I will gladly do it. It is not about me. It's for our people."

After a long, tense moment, Lagertha pushed off the wall she and Torvi were leaning against. Gliding closer, she moved to stand in front of Ubbe, tears swimming in her eyes. Gently, she cupped his cheeks. "Your father would be so proud of you, Ubbe. I pray the gods bless you with happiness in this."

"Thank you, Lagertha." Relief swelled in Ubbe's chest. If he had Lagertha's support, he knew Bjorn would come around.

Since they fled Kattegat and came to England, he had watched the shieldmaiden age before his eyes. He could not help but wonder if her soul yearned for Valhalla and to be reunited with Ragnar. Not that he could blame her. To hear her speak of Ragnar and his approval of Ubbe's actions, it only further solidified his choice.

Torvi spoke up, surprising him. "I think Ubbe should do it." When Bjorn opened his mouth to interject, she snapped her gaze over to her husband. "This is his decision, Ubbe. He has asked for our advice but it is up to him. We need security and this, though we don't trust them, this can provide that security."

Bjorn huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine! Do what you want!"

"Thank you." Ubbe softly said, looking at all the family he had left in this world. "I'll go inform King Alfred now."

With a firm stride, he left the quarters they had been given in Wessex. After some time trying to locate the young king, a passing servant was able to tell him Alfred's location. Thankfully the king was in his private study, reviewing petitions from the worker's guild. The guards at the door allowed Ubbe entrance only after the king called out to allow him entrance. With a look of unrestrained animosity, almost begging him to give them a reason to throw him out, the guards opened the door for him to pass. Ubbe nodded his thanks, but never removed his hand from the sword at his side until the door closed behind him.

Straightening in his chair, Alfred looked up from the papers spread out over his desk. "Good afternoon, Ubbe. I suspect you have sought me out because you have an answer for my proposition."

"I do, your highness." Ubbe paused, knowing how his life was going to irrevocably change once he answered. "And I will accept. I will take a Saxon wife to further the alliance between us."

"I am greatly pleased by your decision." The dark-haired man pushed away from his desk. He moved to a nearby table to pour them both a cup of wine, something these Saxons seemed to favor, as he continued speaking. "Alliances must be built on trust and understanding. A political marriage certainly helps solidify that trust."

Ubbe received the cup, missing the taste of ale from his homeland. After taking a small sip, he stared at Alfred. "So what do we do now? Do I meet some potentials or is there a matchmaker?"

"No, I already have someone picked out for you. My cousin." Alfred answered without hesitation before pausing in contemplation. "What your father and my grandfather would think of this arrangement….our families tied by blood."

"Yeah…. What is her name?"

"My cousin? Lady Y/N. Fear not, she comes from a well-respected family and with a substantial dowry. She has spent most of her life at a nunnery, so there is no fear of her virtue being tainted."

"Great." Ubbe sighed out. Though he knew Alfred meant all that to be reassuring….it felt anything but.

*****

It was not until almost a month later, Ubbe met his intended bride; with the wedding set for three days after her arrival. Apparently King Alfred and some of the Saxon noblemen were keen on the arranged marriage happening as soon as possible.

Ubbe stood off to the side in the throne room. With his hair freshly braided and pulled back and wearing one of his nicer tunics, he hoped he appeared princely. Even if by Saxon standards, he knew he fell woefully short. Lagertha had given him a nod of approval as they waited in the throne room. Though outwardly he kept his face passive and calm, his insides twisted into knots and his hands were clammy.

"Are you still certain about this, brother?" Bjorn clapped Ubbe on the shoulder as he whispered, eyeing the Saxons standing around.

The flaxen-haired Viking glanced over at King Alfred, who sat on his throne, talking in hushed tones to one of his advisors while his mother looked on with a sour expression.

Ubbe answered solemnly. "Aye, we need this alliance."

With a grunt, Bjorn removed his hand but stayed at his brother's side. Something Ubbe appreciated. Although Bjorn had no issue airing his thoughts on this foolish alliance and how Ubbe was making a mistake in regards to choosing a wife again, he kept his complaints behind closed doors. In front of the Saxons, they presented an united front.

The large doors to the throne room opened with a groan. All eyes turned to witness as a sole figure cautiously yet gracefully walked forward, head held high and hands clasped in front of her.

"Cousin!" King Alfred exclaimed, rising from his throne, arms spread wide. Immediately, he descended the few stairs with a fond smile on his face. "Your presence has been missed here at court."

The woman dipped into an elegant curtsey, her dress gliding around her like water. "You are far too kind, my king."

As King Alfred embraced his cousin in a warm hug, Ubbe could only stare in shock. Standing there in a deep red gown, the woman looked like a goddess. Ubbe had prepared himself mentally for his intended bride to be marginally pretty like most of these Saxon women, but someone he easily overlooked. Not her though. Without even saying a word to him, he felt beguiled by her. It was more than just her physical beauty, it was in the way she carried herself, with grace and a nobility. It reminded him distantly of his mother. A woman who knew her place and dignity. This woman, his intended bride, was truly stunning. He could not help but wonder if the true reason for her prolonged residence at a nunnery was not because of piety but to preserve and protect her. Something he was suddenly immensely grateful for.

"This is your betrothed." Alfred walked her over to where the Vikings stood, at the bottom of the steps leading to his throne. With a pleased smile on his face, he introduced the two. "Ubbe, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, this is my cousin, Lady Y/N."

She curtsied to him, her movements so graceful like they were part of a dance. When she spoke, he was further enchanted, for even her voice was beautiful. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Ubbe."

"It's just Ubbe. Since we are to be married, we can skip the formalities."

A coy smile played on her lips. "As you wish….Ubbe."

"Excellent." King Alfred beamed. "Perhaps a walk in the gardens to better acquaint yourselves would be desirable?"

Before Ubbe could whole-heartedly agree, wishing to learn more about his intended bride, a sickly-sweet voice interrupted.

"Y/N has only just arrived. We have wedding plans to finalize and she must try on her dress." Princess Judith interrupted, wrapping an arm through her niece's while pointedly ignoring the Vikings. "Maybe another time, but I am sure y/n will be quite busy with preparations. Come, my dear."

With that, she swept her niece out of the throne room as if the Vikings had the plague and she refused to breathe the same air as them. But before y/n disappeared, she peeked over her shoulder and met Ubbe's gaze with a tender smile teasing her lips, then disappeared from view.

"There is much to finalize and my mother wants to ensure the wedding will go smoothly. You and y/n will have time after the wedding to become acquainted." Alfred said, studying the direction his mother and cousin vanished. With a sigh, he pulled his gaze back to Ubbe. "Now that introductions are made, I have matters with the clergy to attend to."

Ubbe barely paid attention when Alfred walked away, returning to his throne and listening to some priests whine about something petty.

A bump of a shoulder against his own drew Ubbe's attention back from thinking about y/n.

Bjorn leaned over to whisper conspiracingly in his ear. "Well, at least you won't have a problem bedding her."

*****

The wedding ceremony was outlandish and dragged on for entirely too long. Between the many prayers of the priests and the rigid formality of everything, Ubbe was ready to draw his sword and spill some Christian blood, just to break up the monotony. Even Lagertha appeared ready to fall asleep from where she stood.

The only aspect that kept his attention was his bride. Watching her walk down the aisle, he almost swallowed his tongue, leaving him gaping at her in a slack-jawed awe as she slowly approached. In her flowing wedding dress, a crown of flowers in her hair and eyes alight, she appeared ethereal. Standing in his nicest tunic and pants, he knew he paled in comparison to her, but he did not mind.

When the priests tried to forcefully convince Ubbe to dress in Saxon clothing for the wedding, he not-so-subtly threatened to decapitate them if they mentioned it once more. He was a Viking and would dress as such. Besides this was to be a physical representation of an alliance between Saxon and Viking, it would make no sense for him to dress as a Saxon.

Thankfully Alfred agreed with his thoughts, so the clergy kept any further comments to themselves.

Once the wedding concluded with Ubbe and y/n proclaimed man and wife, the couple was escorted to the celebration. The following feast was beyond lavish, with drink and food in overflowing abundance. To his dismay, Ubbe found himself unable to converse with his new bride. Either Alfred was introducing him to someone new, some nobleman pestered him with questions or worst of all, Judith purposefully continued to make excuses that pulled y/n away. When their eyes met, he could see the apology in them, which lightened the stone in his heart.

As the feast progressed, Ubbe found as more time passed, the more his gaze drifted to his bride. The gods had truly blessed him with this marriage. Watching her, he was captivated. Although, he found his hand frequently shifting to reach for the hilt of his sword no longer strapped to his side. All the appreciative or lustful looks she received from other men did not go unnoticed, and if one of them tried to lay a hand on his new wife, he would not be held accountable for his actions. His fists could be just as deadly as any weapon.

Finally, the time was called for the bedding ceremony.

Alfred and some of the clergy explained to Ubbe what happened during a bedding ceremony when he was learning about the wedding's customs and the vows he would have to recite. To say the Ragnarsson was shocked was an understatement. It sounded barbaric…. and him and his people were called the heathens. But he understood the need to maintain protocol for building the alliance and the trust of the Saxons.

So that was how he found himself walking down a corridor with Bjorn at his side, while the feast and celebrations continued on without him.

"Are you sure about this?"

Ubbe rolled his eyes at his elder brother, his stride never faltering. "You did not have to agree to it."

Bjorn scoffed, keeping pace. "And miss out on all the fun?"

The two brothers laughed, the sound loosening some of the tension in the bridegroom's body. When Alfred told Ubbe he needed a witness to represent his people at the bedding ceremony, Bjorn was the only option. When Ubbe initially told his brother about the tradition and asked for Bjorn's presence, the hulking Viking had doubled-over in laughter, followed by making several crude comments about the need to instruct Ubbe on how to properly bed a woman. The discussion ended in a brotherly tussel but Bjorn agreed.

Especially when Ubbe explained his plan.

The bedroom was in the wing of the royal families' rooms. Since y/n was related by blood, she was given a room there whenever she came to visit and naturally, this meant it was where the marriage would be consummated. Several candles were lit but the bedroom was kept dim to give an illusion of privacy. A quick glance at the bed made Ubbe raise an eyebrow at the generous size and the curtains draped around it. A fire burned in the fireplace providing warmth in the bedroom, a sharp contrast to the stern, cold faces of the clergy who waited.

The bishop who married them stood off to the side with two other clergy, all in their robes and barely suppressed looks of disgust on the priests' faces. Two female attendees fussed over y/n, clearly everyone waiting for Ubbe and Bjorn. Once again, Ubbe had to force himself to keep his eyes from staying glued to his new wife. She stood there in a thick robe, with her hair falling about her shoulders loosely, free from the bridal veil. Her gaze jumped from Ubbe to the clergy and back as she nibbled on her bottom lip, clearly nervous about what was to occur next. Cheekily, he sent her a quick wink, hoping that would help settle her nerves. If the blush that grew on her cheeks said anything, at least she was not repulsed by him.

The bishop stepped forward. "Are you prepared to consummate your marriage to Lady Y/N before God and man?"

"I am." Ubbe defiantly met the man's eyes.

"Then by the power given to me by the Holy Church, let the two become one in the sight of God and these witnesses and the marriage shall be complete." With that, the man drew their strange cross sign in the air and stepped back to rejoin his fellow clergy.

The two attendees helped y/n out of her heavy robe, revealing a thin, white nightgown that seemed to only enhance her beauty and innocence. Desire thrummed in his blood at the sight of her, but Ubbe ignored the sensation for the moment. The heavy robe was laid on a nearby chair and the two women left the room with a quick curtsy, leaving only the men and y/n.

After a shared look with Bjorn, Ubbe walked over to his new bride, keeping his movements slow so as to not startle her. Her hands were clasped before her, but even as he approached, he could see the faint tremble in them. Her gaze never strayed from the floor. The confidence seen previously in her seemed to have melted away into anxiety, making him think of a skittish colt. He could not help but wonder what changed, if it was due to him or what was supposed to occur between them.

Standing before her, he gently reached out to take her soft hands in his own larger, calloused ones, pleased when she did not flinch at his touch. Although her gaze remained downward.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, aware of the four pairs of eyes watching their every move.

"Of….of course, my lord husband."

"Remember, I told you to call me by my name."

That caused her head to snap up and meet his gaze. Now he could see the tears welling up in her eyes and her swollen bottom lip from constantly worrying it.

"It'll be alright." He tugged her bottom lip from between her teeth. The way her breath hitched at the intimate touch made his heart pound. He gave her hands in his, a quick squeeze. "Trust me, yeah?"

After a moment, she gave a faint nod, still eyeing him warily but appearing less like she wanted to flee, mutely squeezing his hands back.

A voice broke the stillness in the room, immediately causing her to tense again.

"The two of you must proceed to the bed to finalize the union. We do not have all night to wait for confirmation of her virginity and consummation." One of the priests drawled with an apparent undertone of disdain.

"Then it is a good thing you don't have to wait any longer." Ubbe retorted, narrowing his eyes at the priest. The man huffed but a quiet rebuke from the bishop had the priest pressing his lips together. With one final, assessing scan, the flaxen-haired Viking shifted, pulling his new bride into his side and wrapping an arm around her waist. He felt her tense against him but ignored it to stare at the three clergy with a mocking smirk. "Bjorn."

At the sound of his name, his brother moved from leaning against the doorframe. A scowl on his face, and with the shadows cast over him, made him appear more looming and menacing. "Everybody out."

The three clergy looked back and forth between the two Viking brothers, clearly confused and intimidated.

"You can't….we must witness…."

"I SAID EVERYBODY OUT!" Bjorn roared, pulling the axe from his side and waving it in the air. "OR DO I NEED TO SPLIT YOUR SKULL TO HELP MY WORDS REACH YOUR TINY BRAINS?!"

The three scrambled, eyes wide in terror, tripping over their long robes in a pathetic attempt to reach the door faster. The bishop turned around, hands grasping the golden cross hanging from his neck. "King….King Alfred will hear of this." He stuttered out in feigned confidence.

A deafening war cry from Bjorn practically shook the room in answer. That was enough to silence the bishop and have him flee, following his companions.

At Bjorn's roar, y/n began shaking like a leaf, her hands tightly holding onto Ubbe's arm wrapped around her. He further pulled her against him, providing shelter from his brother's fury. Even as the room fell back into silence, he could still feel her trembling in his arms. He prayed to the gods that this did not darken her view of him and cause her to fear him.

Once the room cleared and the pounding footfalls of the clergy could no longer be heard, Bjorn turned around with a grin, scratching the back of his neck with his axe. "You know Alfred will be upset when he finds out."

Ubbe smirked. "We can't let him have everything he wants, yeah?"

That made Bjorn chuckle. "I'll go guard the door." He pointed his axe at Ubbe, still grinning. "You owe me for this."

"Scaring priests shitless isn't enough for you?"

Bjorn scoffed. "I can do that whenever I like."

"We'll name our firstborn after you."

Bjorn waved him off, opening the wooden door and stepping out. When the door closed, the echoing sound seemed to fill the empty space in the room.

Ubbe peeked down at the woman in his arms. "Are you alright?"

"Your brother….is….frightening."

"Aye, don't tell him that though. It would only inflate his ego more."

Once he was certain she was steady on her feet and would not faint, he pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her head before striding away to the other side of the bedroom. Quickly he pulled off his tunic and boots, tossing them onto a nearby chair and then flopped onto the massive bed in only his pants. If nothing else could be said for tonight, he knew he would sleep well. The bed was comfortable, even rivaling his own bed back in Kattegat. With a pleased groan, he tucked an arm under his head and settled under the covers. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, his eyelids sliding closed. Even though he felt like he spent most of the day standing around and kneeling for the wedding, it was still tedious and draining. Thank the gods it was over.

"Um, my lord…."

"Ubbe." He interrupted, lips twitching in amusement. "Or husband. Whichever you prefer."

"Ah, Ubbe….are we not….?" Her hesitant voice trailed off, but the unspoken question lingered in the air.

He snorted. "I have no plans to force myself upon you just to appease your priests and bishop."

"But we must consummate the marriage."

"I will only have sex with you if you desire me as your husband and not just to fulfill an obligation."

The following, prolonged silence caused him to open his eyes and look over at his new wife. It was apparent she had not moved from where he left her. He expected to see fear on her lovely face or revulsion at the idea of her ever willingly wanting him to touch her. Instead, she seemed to be studying him with a mixture of curiosity and respect. That confident woman he had previously met, making a reappearance.

After holding her gaze for a moment, he patted the bed next to him. "Come lay down. I doubt standing there all night will be pleasant."

With a soft smile, she stepped over and crawled under the covers, but maintained an arm’s length distance between them. They both laid on their backs, together yet alone. The only sounds were of the crackling fire and their breathing.

Before he realized it, Ubbe found himself speaking, filling the silence with his babbling but strangely felt he needed to share these thoughts with the woman beside him, the woman whose life was now tied to him, whether she wanted it to be or not.

"I doubt this is the marriage you were dreaming of as a little girl. Probably expected some prince or lord….not a Viking. Your people only see us as heathens, as barbaric devils, at least that's what one of the noblemen said. That we cannot stop the evil and destruction we cause because we are possessed." He snorted, rubbing a hand down his face. After a deep breath, he turned his head to look at her, amazed to find her already watching him. His tone softened as he continued. "I'm sorry you were forced into this marriage. I know it might not mean much to you but I vow I won't ever physically harm you or force myself upon you. After all the wedding ceremonies, you can return to the nunnery if that is what you want."

Her eyes widened momentarily, then drifted away as she worried her lip once again. As he waited for her to speak, his gaze traveled over her face, taking in the small details that until now he had not been able to observe. It would be a blatant lie to say he did not desire to lie with her, to touch and taste her. The current state of his manhood was evidence enough of how simply gazing at her beauty affected him. He made a vow to her. If nothing else, he hoped they could be friendly to one another.

To his shock, she rolled onto her side, facing him completely, hands tucked under her cheek. Without hesitation, he mirrored her action, but kept his head cradled on his arm.

"I have not traveled much," she quietly said, almost shyly, "but there is one thing I've learned through my studies and the observation of others. People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." She paused as if choosing her next words carefully. "I do not think you are a barbaric devil or….or possessed. I think…."

"What?"

"I think you are very brave and strong. Not many would seek an alliance with those that fervently claim them as an enemy….nor be kind to a simple noblewoman."

He smirked, finding himself charmed by her honesty. Carefully, he reached over and brushed a thumb over her cheek. "You are no simple noblewoman, my lady."

"If you are just Ubbe, then I request you call me, y/n."

An unexpected, loud banging on the door startled them both. Y/n gasped and rushed to sit up against the headboard, eyes wide with fright. Ubbe immediately pushed himself up, making sure to put himself between his wife and the door, unsheathing a dagger he had subtly slipped under his pillow.

"Are you two done yet? Some ugly priest out here wants to know!" Bjorn shouted through the door.

Ubbe groaned, putting the dagger away, before calling back. "No! This woman is insatiable! Tell the priest to come back in the morning! Hopefully I can still walk!"

A harsh bark of laughter preceded loud arguing, which could be heard through the door. Raised voices crept underneath the door frame, the loudest being that of Bjorn. Ubbe stayed perched on the bed, to assist his brother if the need called for it. No matter what Alfred or those whiny clergy ordered, no one would be witnessing any consummation of his. Ever. Eventually, the voices dwindled like a dying flame until only silence could be heard from outside. Ubbe figured Bjorn must have won the argument, or used enough threats of bodily harm, since no one entered the bedroom.

The dagger returned to its sheath under his pillow. A habit he had since childhood. A glance to his side showed his wife still shifted as far away from the door as possible, hands clutching the sheets in a tight grip. He reached a hand out to her. "It's alright. Bjorn won't let anyone in."

She took his hand, still eyeing the door warily. "What did you say to him?"

"Ah, nothing important. Just to keep the priests away."

"Ok."

"We should go to sleep. Today has been long." He stated after he coaxed her back under the covers and no longer sent glances towards the door. Only after she was settled did he relax. Laying on his back, an arm behind his head, his eyes closed almost instantly. He could hear her shuffling occasionally but he paid it no mind. Sleep slinked into his mind, hovering on the edges.

"Ubbe…." A barely-heard whisper pulled him from the brink of sleep.

"Yes?"

"What if….what if I want to."

"Mmmm?"

"Um, fulfill our marital duties."

Well, that got his attention. He turned his head to the side, noting how her gaze traced over his bare chest slowly then lifted to meet his gaze. "Are you asking me to have sex with you?"

"Yes." She bit her bottom lip, even as her eyes never strayed from him.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Hmmm….well, I may be convinced but….you have to kiss me first."

Cautiously yet deliberately, she scooted closer until they lay side by side. In a graceful movement, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his in an innocent, chaste kiss. Her lips were softer than even the pillow beneath him and by the gods, she was going to be his undoing. After a moment, she leaned back, gazing down at him with a nervous yet endearing smile. Before he could say anything, to encourage or instruct, her lips descended on his once again, but this time hungrily. His initial surprise transitioned to a carnal satisfaction when a soft moan slipped out of her after he tugged on her bottom lip. Their mouths connected with a needy kiss, sending a jolt of electricity through him. All thoughts of sleep forgotten.

Suddenly, he flipped them over, pinning her underneath him, taking charge of their love-making. She giggled at the abrupt action but that was quickly silenced by his mouth crashing against hers and thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

As she kissed him back passionately, he wondered if maybe this marriage was not such a bad idea. If the way her lips eagerly sought his, her hands gripped onto biceps as if to keep her steady, her back arched as he trailed open-mouth kisses down her neck….maybe the marriage could be more than just political.

Soon enough, all thoughts vanished from his mind that were not related in regards to exploring the exquisite body of his Saxon wife and listening to her moan his name repeatedly.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe x reader #ubbe x you #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson x reader #vikings bjorn #torvi vikings #lagertha #alfred the great #king alfred #hayleys2k #mzwrites

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tsukiihime · 4 years ago

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Heartbreak Part 3 (Bakugou x Fem!Reader) (Shinsou x Fem!Reader)

Third part up! Now excuse me, I’m going to play Genshin Impact all weekend! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Angst, arguments, swearing, drinking

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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You shriek in terror as a loud blaring sound emanates from the table in front of you - your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as the sudden noise coupled with the darkness and the horror movie playing in the background fries your nerves with fear. You hear Shinsou laugh in the background, in the kitchen grabbing more snacks as you wait in the dark for him to return.

“Shut up, Hitoshi!” He smirks to himself - you used his full first name which means you’re angry at his teasing. He chuckles as he makes more popcorn and hears you shuffle out of your blanket cocoon to find the source of the noise.

You find Shinsou’s black phone vibrating and ringing on the table in front of you under some magazines. On the screen flashes ‘Izuku Midoriya’ as a picture of the freckled boy and your best friend at their U.A graduation appears on the screen.

“‘Toshi! Midoriya’s calling! Want me to answer?”

“Yeah, let him know I’m busy.”

“‘Kay.” You move to swipe right and answer the phone, but the call ends before you have the chance. On the lockscreen of Shinsou’s phone, the lock screen picture of you two at the Hero Rankings ceremony from two years ago is partially covered by a new banner: One missed call from Midoriya.

“Oops, I missed it.” You set Hitoshi’s phone back down on his cedar coffee table, returning to wrap yourself back in your blanket as you spot fuzzy purple hair returning from the kitchen, popcorn bowl in hand as well as two cups full of water. “Sorry ‘Toshi, I didn’t answer in time.”

“S’alright, I’ll call him back after.” The two both of you turn your head to the phone as it vibrates on the table to let Shinsou know he’s got a text message, from the very person whose call he missed. “Hold on, lemme answer this…” He opens the message from him, cringing slightly as the bright screen blinds him in the total darkness. You help yourself to some popcorn as you wait for Shinsou to give you the signal to start the movie.

From: Midoriya, sent at 10:39pm

Hey Shinsou! We’re having a small Class 1-A reunion at Shoto’s place this Friday - want to come? Everyone would love to see you! Let me know!

Shinsou leans back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. You cock your head in confusion. “What’s wrong ‘Toshi?”

“Class reunion at Shoto’s. Don’t wanna go.” He covers his face with his hands, groaning as he thinks of an excuse not to attend.

“Why not? You haven’t seen Midoriya or the others in a long time.” Shinsou isn’t antisocial but he’s rather introverted; he prefers the company of cats and a few trusted friends over a loud party. Add in work and he basically only sees you on a regular basis. “I think you should go, it would do you some good.” Your purple haired friend looks at you sideways.

“Kaminari is gonna drink.” You snort, snickering at his aversion to the combination of the Stun Gun Hero and alcohol. Denki is one of the few people Shinsou gets along with despite his ditzyness, and Kaminari often tries to include Shinsou in mixers and parties much to his dismay. Last time Shinsou went drinking with Kaminari, they ended up in a pool with some of their classmates and in his drunken stupor, Kaminari almost activated his quirk and fried everybody in the pool. Ever since then, Kaminari needs a designated partner to watch him when he drinks, which usually falls to Shinsou, Sero, or Kirishima. “And if he drinks, I can’t, which means I can’t enjoy myself.”

“Isn’t it Sero’s turn to watch him, since you did it last time?

“Huh, you might be right. If I don’t have to watch that idiot, then I’ll probably go. Wanna come?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t invited ‘Toshi. Besides...I didn’t attend U.A so it would be strange to have an outsider come around, right?” You give him a small smile to show you’re fine without going, but Shinsou knows better. You don’t want to go because you could run into Bakugou. He sighs, and turns to look at you. “Oh! Tell Denki and Sero I say ‘hello’. I miss playing video games with them when I used to go to parties.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll go and visit everyone. I’ll tell them you said hello. Now, can we get back to the movie? Your favorite part is coming up.” He snickers as you immediately dive under your blanket to avoid seeing the scene that makes you have nightmares every time it comes on. As you cower under the covers, Shinsou howls with laughter as you scream.

You don’t even hear your phone ringing in the bedroom, faint and drowned out by you and Shinsou’s voices. A message flashes across the screen:

One missed call from Katsuki.

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Bakugou listens to your voicemail message play in his ear, despondent as you fail to pick up. He relishes in the opportunity to hear your voice again though, and closes his eyes as your message begins to play.

“Hey! Sorry I’m not available to take your call at the moment. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

He can see you in his mind’s eye, lounging on the couch and flipping through channels as you try to find one of those true crime documentaries you love so much as you settle in for the night. Or maybe you’re busy with homework for school again, or staying late at work since you always wanted to work more hours to be more independent. He can see you crashing in bed after a long night - fuzzy cat hairband on your head holding back your hair, face freshly washed, wrapped in the yellow blanket you loved so much. His shoulders feel heavy as he solemnly trudges back to his group of friends, taking one last look at his lock screen before he returns inside: a picture of you and him at the arcade, with you beaming with happiness as you hold up a large stuffed bunny he won for you with all the tickets he earned that night. He wonders if you still have it.

His reminiscing is interrupted by an incoming call from Deku - a picture of Izuku and Katsuki appears on screen, taken at a school function in their third year of high school. He lets out a small ‘tch’ but answers the phone anyways. “What do you want you damn Deku?”

“Hey Kacchan,” Deku answers unfazed, “just wanted to let you know that Shoto’s having a reunion at his place this Friday - wanna come?” Katsuki sees Todoroki on and off for his Hero work, and he gets along with both Shoto and Izuku way better than he did in high school, even if the rivalry is still present - in his case anyways.

“Hell no.” Bakugou hangs up the phone, shoves it in his pocket, and angrily pulls open the door to return to the apartment of his friends. On the other side of the phone, Izuku smiles as knows Bakugou’s group of friends will drag him to the function whether he likes it or not.

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When Friday rolls around, you busy yourself with laundry as Shinsou gets ready to attend the reunion at Todoroki’s downtown skyscraper apartment. You try not to think of your ex-boyfriend and the possibility that your best friend may run into him as you throw your clothes into the washing machine. You also try not to think of the fact that you received a call from Bakugou, a call you missed and didn’t have a voicemail attached to it. You contemplated calling him back to see what he wanted, but your pride and fear of rejection holds you back. So instead, you choose to act like it never happened - but your heart races every time a text or call notification thinking it’ll be from Katsuki.

Your phone rests next to the washer on the shelf containing the laundry detergent and scent balls - it sits unlocked as you finish your first load of clothes. You pick it up, scrolling through the endless text as you try and find a new home. You’ve decided that you’ve overstayed your welcome at Shinsou’s apartment, and you’re now looking for one of your own. You’ve been working an insane amount of overtime, and now that you’ve raised your credit score, you feel ready to search for an apartment to call your own. Hitoshi of course has been protesting since he doesn’t feel that you’re a burden but you insist on getting out of his hair. It isn’t around and on the highest volume possible so you can answer the phone if Katsuki calls again, no siree.

As you stare at your phone screen and walk back to the living room, you bump into Shinsou as he makes his way to grab his keys, knocking your phone to the floor. “Oh! Sorry ‘Toshi, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“S’okay. I’m ‘bout to go, you need anything?” He bends over to pick up your cell and places it back in your hands. He’s wearing a dark green bomber jacket with a simple white v-neck underneath, complimented with black jeans and he holds a pair of Vans in his hands as he makes his way to the door.

“I’m good, make sure you have fun, drive safe, and if you drink call me so I can get you, ‘kay?” You give him a quick hug, quickly noticing that he’s sprayed on some cologne. He smells amazing, but you wonder why a pang of jealousy courses through you when as you wonder why he put on cologne for a party full of friends.

“Will do. See you later.” You see him off, locking the door behind him after he leaves. You return to the living room, alone and without plans. So, you decide to order some takeout, watch some Netflix, and stay up with your phone nearby in case Shinsou calls you for a ride.

It’s not so you can answer a call from Bakugou if he decides to call again. No way.

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Shoto’s apartment is the probably the swankiest place owned by any of the Class 1-A graduates - in the heart of downtown, with ceiling to floor windows overlooking the cityscape and a private rooftop. Shinsou feels out of place as he makes his way up in the elevator, meeting Ojiro and Hagakure on the way. He says his greetings, makes small talk, and finally arrives at his destination - Todoroki’s apartment. He says hello to everyone, and moves to grab a beer. Lilac eyes meet vermilion ones as he comes face to face with Bakugou for the first time since everything happened with you. The Bakusquad notice Bakugou’s icy expression and turn to see who has gained his ire; they’re surprised to see Shinsou standing at the end of their friend’s glare.

“Dude, what’s your problem with Shinsou?” Kaminari asks innocently. Mina and Sero shoot him a look, causing him to cock his head in confusion. He mouths a silent ‘what’ to Sero, Kirishima, and Mina, who mouths back your name. He instantly shuts up and changes the subject. Bakugou can’t hear what his blonde friend is saying though, because he’s too busy staring holes through Shinsou’s back. He’s never had a problem with Shinsou before he met you, but every time he looks at the purple haired man he can’t help but feel intense jealousy and anger that bubbles up from within. He imagines you wearing Shinsou’s clothes, and sleeping at Shinsou’s place and he can’t control the rage that comes with it. He abruptly stands, grabbing two beers and walks off.

“Hey, where are you going?” Kirishima asks.

“To get some fresh air dammit!” Bakugou opens the door to the rooftop and forcefully slams it shut. The Bakusquad share a look with one another.

“He must still be hung up on her.” Denki states nonchalantly, and Mina elbows him in the stomach.

“Of course he is, you idiot! He loved her more than anything. You saw how miserable he was when she left.” This statement catches Shinsou’s attention, and after excusing himself from his conversation with Izuku and Uraraka, follows the Explosion Hero to the rooftop.

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Although he tries to quietly sneak behind Bakugou as he makes his way to the rooftop, he fails miserably. “Why the hell are you following me Eye Bags?”

“Huh, didn’t think you’d hear me. I was wondering why you were out here to drink by yourself. I take it you didn’t want to see me?” Bakugou turns around, veins popping out on his forehead as he gazes upon Shinsou in distaste.

“Of course I didn’t want to see you, you damn extra. You got rocks for brains or somethin’?” Shinsou keeps an even expression as he faces down Bakugou as the sounds of the city play below them. “Well, why are you following me?” He repeats, crossing his arms.

“I just wanted to get some fresh air.” He lies, moving to the railing next to Bakugou, who looks at him with caution. The two men stand in silence, occasionally sipping from their beers as they watch the city they protect from on high. After what seems like an eternity, one of them breaks the tension and silence.

“How is she?” Shinsou looks sideways to see Bakugou staring at his beer can, emotions unreadable as he takes another swig.

“Fine. A lot better than before. She’s thinkin’ of moving into her own place by next month. Told her she could stay with me until she’s ready but she’s insisting on moving out.” Bakugou’s eyebrow twitches in envy, and it takes almost all of his energy to hold back his tongue.

“Good for her. She’s always been independent like that.” He slightly smiles as he recalls how self-sufficient you are, working hard to get what you want in your work, school, and love. He quickly wipes it off his face though so Shinsou can’t see.

“Yeah, too bad people take her for granted sometimes.” He knows it’s a low blow but he can’t help himself - Bakugou deserves it for treating you the way he did. “Can’t believe you’d fuck up something so good with someone like her.” Bakugou narrows his eyes in displeasure, his rationality hanging on by a thin thread as he convinces himself to not punch Shinsou in his face because you’d be upset if Hitoshi came home with a black eye and bloody nose. Katsuki decides to let that comment slide - he’s not as hot headed as he once was - and continues the conversation.

“I tried callin’ her last week. She didn’t answer.” He doesn’t know why he says it out loud, but he can’t stop the words from leaving his lips.

“Oh? She didn’t tell me.” Katsuki’s blood boils, and his jealousy reaches its breaking point after he hears that. Shinsou is taken aback by his words though - why didn’t you tell him? You tell him everything - even if it seems minute. He’s a bit hurt that you would hide that from him, but he stops it from showing on his face.

“And why would she? You’re not her boyfriend. You’re just a friend.” Shinsou bristles visibly at that statement - he can’t hide his discontent from showing on his face as Bakugou points out what he already knows. He is just a friend in your eyes, someone who you can count on no matter what. But the lingering touches, the ghost of your lips on his forehead, the cuddling he can’t help but desire - he wants more. He wants you in a way he can’t have, and he feels horrible for desiring you in this way when your heart has been broken. His face grimaces as the guilt creeps up his throat - he wants and yet he can’t tell you. He craves you in a way he’s never had for anyone else and at the worst possible time, his once innocent friendship with his childhood friend has devolved into longing and pining for you when you are emotionally unavailable. Bakugou watches closely as Shinsou’s face changes from his words, and his eyes widen as he puts two and two together.

“You bastard, you’re in love with her.” Bakugou says it low, growling it out through clenched teeth. Shinsou is taken aback for a second - he loves you of course, but is he in love with you? He thinks back on his life and sees you always next to him: smiling, encouraging him, holding him when he’s had a bad day, studying with him when there was a big exam coming up, calling to congratulate him when he entered U.A, and catching a train to see him graduate the Hero course. There’s no doubt in his mind - you’ve been a staunch supporter of his dreams and ambitions and he can’t see a life where you’re ever away from him. Like a puzzle, everything clicks into place. He knows it from the bottom of his heart, the deepest recesses of his soul.

He loves you. Deeply, truly, with every fiber of his being. He’s in love with you, his best friend.

“And if I am?” Vermilion eyes narrow, teeth grinding as he clenches his fists. Bakugou looks Shinsou straight in his eyes, fury radiating from every single pore of his body.

“You droopy eyed bastard. How long have you been waiting to swoop in and take her away from me? Just waiting for me to mess up, haah?” His words are dripping with venom, little sparks shooting out of his open palms. Shinsou isn’t sure if Bakugou will attack him or not, but he can sense that the blonde is so pissed he could blow up the entire rooftop. He backs away from the railing, never turning his back to Explosion Hero. “How many times have you comforted her just hoping she’d give you the time of day? You think you’ll be able to make her happy Eye Bags? You may be her best friend, but I ain’t gonna sit here and let you talk down to me like you know all about what she and I had. There’s no one else for me and you know it.”

Shinsou sneers, staring at the man in front of him with disdain. “Bullshit. I was at your apartment Bakugou, I know for damn sure she isn’t the only thing on your mind.” Bakugou’s eye twitches in white hot rage.

“Haaah? What bullshit are you on now jackass? Making up stories to make yourself feel better for falling in love with my girl?” Shinsou narrows his eyes in irritation, envisioning your face as he holds you the night you saw Bakugou at the Hero Rankings, as you sob into his chest as he pets your hair. He recalls making you food, leaving it out for you to eat before he goes to patrol and coming home to find it untouched. He remembers how he had to remind you how beautiful you were, how the comments about your body and looks on social media didn’t mean anything because you were perfect just the way you are. Bakugou didn’t see how broken you were, how he shattered your heart and left you to pick up the pieces while he hopped from bar to bar and brought a date to the award ceremonies when he wouldn’t even acknowledge your existence as his girlfriend.

“I was there at the apartment when she went to pick up her things. You had some underwear in your bedroom. She saw it, and I did too. Now, who did that belong to Bakugou?” He smirks, watching as the face of the blonde in front of him contorts in confusion and regret, now realizing that you had seen his almost one night stand’s underwear when you came to grab your things only a couple of days after you broke up. “Was it some girl you met while bar hopping? Or was it Camie’s? I didn’t know you had a thing for her.”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You don’t know shit.” Bakugou runs a hand through his spikes, a combination of shame and hurt painting his features. He looks up, glaring at the purple haired man in front of him. “You don’t know what it’s like. To have the person you love walk out on you and to know that you fucked up. I didn’t want to think about her, about us.” His lips purse together, his nose and throat become itchy as tears threaten to spill over at any moment. “I just wanted to forget, okay?! Is that what you wanna hear you bastard? I didn’t want to spend all night thinking about her!” He’s yelling now, his voice reverberating from the rooftop, spreading out into the city under the moonlit sky. Shinsou’s eyes widen in surprise at Bakugou’s outburst, lilac orbs staring unblinking at the man in front of him. He doesn’t think Katsuki is lying, he never hesitates to say what he thinks about anyone, whether they be a friend or a foe.

“Whose underwear was it?” Shinsou asks lowly, bracing himself for his answer.

“Don’t remember her name. It was a girl from the bar, reminded me of her. I made her leave before anything physical happened. I only kissed her. Didn’t even know she left her clothes.” Bakugou recalls that night, alcohol coursing through his body, craving body heat and another person’s touch. He swallows thickly, imagining your face as you find that foreign underwear in the room you once shared, quickly dispelling that thought from his mind when he remembers your heartbroken expression.

“And what about Camie? I wasn’t home when the rankings aired,” Shinsou crosses his arms as he leans against the edge of the rooftop, “but I know she saw it.” Bakugou grits his teeth in anguish - how much hurt had he caused you without even knowing? How many nights had you cried while thinking he had moved on? He was such a damn fool.

“We went as friends. She wanted to make Inasa jealous enough to make a move on her. I didn’t think,” Bakugou looks up to stare at the lavender eyes boring into him, “...didn’t think she’d be watching. She always hated that kinda shit.” Shinsou’s eyebrows knit together in anger, red flashing in his vision as his entire body shakes as he clenches his fists to calm the fury bubbling up in his chest.

“She hated it because you never used to take her to one. God, you are such a fucking idiot Bakugou! That’s why she left you! You are selfish. You cared more about your damn rank and your stupid one sided rivalry with Deku that you couldn’t even tell the world you had someone you loved. When those people attacked her on social media, you didn’t lift a damn finger to stop the hate she was getting. You listened to your agency like a damn puppet, and let her take the fall. When all she did was love you. It wasn’t even about the attention of being a Hero’s girlfriend, she just wanted you to be proud of having her by your side, to have you not be afraid to show the world you cared about her. But you didn’t. She’s given you so much but you don’t even care. You can’t even get your head out of your ass to-”

“You don’t think I care? I’ve regretted not telling her how much she meant to me that night! I regret letting her leave that night in the rain, and I sure as hell regret letting her cry herself to sleep all those nights!” Bakugou’s hands squeeze in fists, nails digging into his palms and teeth grinding together as he wills himself not to cry.

“I never, never wanted to make her feel like she wasn’t good enough. I never ever wanted to be the one to make her cry. You don’t think I’d take it all back if I could? I miss her Shinsou, is that what you want to fucking hear? I miss her.” The spiky haired blonde refuses to let Shinsou see him cry, holding back tears while scarlet orbs stare into purple ones. “I’ve missed her since she left and I fucking miss her more everyday. I’m not an idiot, I know I fucked up bad.” Shinsou’s expression softens slightly, he can sense that Bakugou’s telling the truth and he can hear the regret in his shaky voice. He sighs, looking down at his shoes.

“Look, I may have feelings for her, but she doesn’t know and I don’t care to let her find out - not now anyway. I’m not trying to ruin your relationship or hurt your chances at getting back together because I know she loves you.” Shinsou rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I let my anger get the best of me tonight. I’ll leave you up here to get some fresh air. I’m going back to our friends, I’ll let them know not to bother you.” Bakugou nods, and turns silently around to continue overlooking the city as his eyes burn from the sting of tears. Shinsou leaves, and after he hears the door close, Bakugou lets the tears he’s held back flow freely from his eyes as he remains on the rooftop.

Sniffling, he stares at the streets below while he tries to get his emotions under control - the great Katsuki Bakugou will not be seen crying - especially not in front of his friends. He feels a vibration in his pocket, and considers ignoring it, thinking it’s Kirishima or Kaminari calling him to come back. He pulls out his phone to deny the call.

Instead of Kaminari, he sees your name flash across the screen.

#bnha #bnha x you #bnha x fem!reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #katsuki bakugou x y/n #hitoshi shinso x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #hitoshi shinsou x y/n #mha x reader #my writing

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daandyli0n · 2 years ago

Note

Ok so some of the quotes have been paraphrased since it's been a while since I watched the vod, but here it goes:

Tubbo has been close to death before. He had been killed before too, and yet this time, with Tommy angrily ranting and swearing at Dream, all the while his ax dug into the soft skin of his throat, Tubbo knew he was closer to death now than ever. Especially now, considering his other two lives had been lost before this.

Dream had forced them into this horrible blackstone vault using Tubbo’s last life as a threat, and Tommy had complied, handing Dream back the discs.

Dream had told them his almost absurdly evil plan to steal everyone’s “attachments” and proclaimed how they made people weak.

The whole time he hadn’t removed his ax from Tubbo’s throat, not even acknowledging him, until the end of his rant when he roughly slammed Tubbo to the ground, and then went right back to focusing on Tommy.

Tommy’s face was red with rage, looking to be doing all he could from leaping onto the masked man and beating him to death.

But Tommy wasn’t stupid, they both knew if he made any attempt at getting to Tubbo, it would end in disaster.

Dream, being a sick bastard as usual, seemed highly amused by the red-faced bloodied teenager currently screaming at him. Tubbo tries his best to ignore his own thumping heart and listen to his best friend’s tirade.

“You bastard Dream, you absolute vile fucking green fuck-head! Don’t you dare hurt him. I’ll take all of your lives and then some, you green bitch! Get the fuck away!” Tommy limps forward, favoring his right leg heavily.

“You’re a monster Dream, a villain! And we will stop you!” Tommy shouted.

Although Tubbo admired Tommy’s optimism and bravery, Tubbo knew there was nothing either of them could do now, they were stuck alone with Dream and his superior weapons and armor. Tubbo’s nose is broken, and he’s pretty sure Tommy’s ankle is sprained, if not worse. And even if they managed to initially get away from him, who’s to say they'd make it out of this nightmarish blackstone maze of a base? Taunting Dream over being homeless and a bad builder was less funny in hind-sight. The sight of a place for everyone’s prized possessions, animals, and even a cage labeled ‘Skeppy’ wasn’t proof enough that Dream was far too powerful for them to take on. Dream was a mastermind, a manipulator, the chessmaster.

And this was checkmate.

Dream also seemed to be getting tired of Tommy’s ranting. Tubbo could see a little of the man’s face from this angle, and Dream’s expression had gone from amusement to annoyance.

“Alright, that’s enough. Tommy, say your goodbyes.” Dream said sternly. Tommy’s face flashed with horror.

“Dream, no wait, what are you-Stop!” Tommy yelled as Dream's blade dug further into Tubbo’s throat, deep enough to break skin but not cause a serious injury. This was for fun, Tubbo realized. He’s dragging it out.

Tubbo winced as the cut began to sting. Both of his former deaths were brutal, yes, but they were quick. This wouldn’t be quick, Tubbo could tell. Both of Tubbo’s previous deaths were so violent and quick, he didn’t have time to properly react before feeling agonizing pain and seeing a white light.

Sapnap caving in his skull before Tubbo could even process what Eret was saying, and Technoblade solemnly apologizing before drawing back his firework launcher as Tubbo was still too stunned to properly react to Schlatt ordering the anarchist to kill him was one thing. But Tubbo now had plenty of time to mull over his death, and of course his life.

Despite everything, it hadn’t been all bad. He remembered the contentment he felt, sitting with a laidback tommy, humming along to the tune of his best friend’s two favorite music discs on that bench that overlooked the sunset.

He remembered the bittersweetness of L’manberg’s independence, how it had cost so much, and yet against all odds, they were free and Tubbo couldn’t help but smile until his face hurt.

He remembered the first time he met Ranboo. Would he ever see him again? Probably not. Tubbo shuddered silently as tears dripped down his cheeks.

“Do you want him to be like Wilbur, dying before you get to say goodbye? Because this is your last chance Tommy, I’m going to kill him, and then I have plans for you.” Dream said sternly, pressing the blade further down on Tubbo’s neck. More blood dribbled down his neck.

Tommy’s tear stained face met Tubbo’s, and he grinned weakly, trying to find a witty joke to make. Something to get Tommy to smile back, and more selfishly, so the last thing in the world that Tubbo would see wouldn’t be his best friend’s anguished expression.

“Well, I think it’s over.” Tubbo murmured, trying his best to ignore Tommy’s barely suppressed sobs. Tommy had always been emotionally expressive, but ever since he had reunited with Tubbo after coming back from exile, he was quieter.

Not silent, and not particularly noticeable to someone who didn’t know Tommy as well, but he definitely didn’t cry as hard, or laugh with as much enthusiasm.

It was like all of his emotions had been muted by whatever awful thing happened in exile, with the exception of short, angry outbursts that could be triggered in as innocent a way as carrying around a shovel. But Tubbo didn’t question it. He still had nightmares about those fireworks.

And he’ll never forget the pit in his stomach as he came to his decision, and ordered Dream to escort Tommy out of his country. And he’d never forget the pure shock he felt when Technoblade saved himself from his execution in the nick of time.

He’d never forget the time Tommy told him “The discs were worth more than you ever were.”

It felt like a kick to the groin, those words. And it was funny in a fucked up way that after all that, Dream would still kill him, and do something to Tommy.

“We had a good time, a few laughs. But you know the saying goes right? Don’t be sad it’s over, be happy that it happened?” Tubbo coughed, looking up at his horrified friend. A little bit of blood trickled out from a cut on his lip, and Tubbo shuddered.

“Y-you’re giving up Tubbo? No man, we can’t, we’ve gotten so far, come on I won’t let him kill you!” Tommy said shakily.

“Tommy.” Dream warned, turning his ax over and pressing the blunter edge into Tubbo’s throat, forcing the air from his body as Tubbo’s vision swayed.

Tommy ignored him, instead looking at Tubbo with pleading eyes. “What am I without you?” He choked out.

Tubbo smiled weakly, letting out a wet chuckle. “Yourself?” It was all he could think of as his brain went fuzzy with lack of oxygen.

And then, right before the world went dark, Tubbo heard it.

The portal whooshed, and the ax was lifted from his neck at last.

YOOOO!!

this is great! tubbo just thinking through his life while dream's about to kill him; that's what's really getting to me.

cause i'm pretty sure that everyone's heard the phrase "my life flashed before my eyes" and that describes what happened with tubbo pretty well!

also, tubbo blacking out just as everyone came to save them. honestly, if all that was going on with me i'd honestly pass out too, even without the ax in my throat, so yeah-

all in all, very good! i loved it!

#my boys.. ;(#dsmp #c!tubbo #c!tommy #c!clingyduo #c!dream #lovely writing!!

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curiousconch · 3 years ago

Text

Chase You / Chase Me (Pt. 1)

Part 1: Burning on the Edge of Something Beautiful

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Alex finds herself personally affected by the Rothswell case and Gabe attempts to find out why.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 1.8k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / implied sexual content, alcohol consumption

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogues belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

Wednesday Evening at McGraw Byrne

Back from a day in the courts, Gabe stepped out of the elevator and into the halls of McGraw Byrne. Eager to finish the day's work, he passed by the break room where he unwittingly heard something that made him instantly halt.

"Did you see how clammed up Keating became when you asked her that question?" Gabe heard Vanderweil's deep voice.

"Actually, I sensed something irked her during the ride back. Seems like I did strike a chord," a serious female voice replied, which Gabe presumed was Sinclair's.

He made the assumption that the line of conversation was about their visit to the Rothswell's mansion. Earlier that day, the law firm's major client Philip Rothswell, demanded that they see to the whole Lydia and Joey situation. So Gabe and Sadie instructed the associates to go see the young heiress, trying to give the firm more time to create a more solid strategy than playing family counselor.

When they were placating Rothswell, he noticed how Alex fidgeted in her chair as she listened to their client. The way her body pulled up every defensive stance in the book full with meaning.

Seems that what he just overheard confirmed his suspicions. Something was bothering Alex Keating. And like all things Alex, it piqued at his curiosity.

It irked him that he did, more than he was willing to admit. Seems like even as trivial as office gossip, as long as its about her, Gabe is guaranteed to take notice.

Hastening his strides, he continued on to his plush new office, the setting sun coloring the wood furnishings with a hue of orange. He tossed his briefcase on the khaki couch, his leather soles padding on the clean white carpet. Loosening his tie, he crossed the room towards his desk. He took off his coat, hanging it on the rack nearby and turned to face the glass walls which offered a much better view of the concrete jungle below.

His mind whirred as he rationalized with himself as to why he was so invested with Alex. He initially chalked it up as a familiar, primal response to her... attractiveness. Yet as he watched her emerge from every pressure test and challenge he and Sadie gave her, he can't help but root for her.

It's not just that. After a long time, Gabe wanted to be near someone. He wanted to hear what bothers them, their goals, even their history. A level of interest he never exhibited to his usual carnal pursuits.

She stirred up something sleeping within him, something he willed never to return.

Consumed by the thoughts of her, Gabe finds himself glancing at his Rolex and hatching a guise to know what made the mighty Alex Keating got so worked up about.

Sometime later, uptown New York

"Alex... Have you ever had someone like Joey mess with your head? It's not about smart or stupid," Gigi had asked.

Alex poked her fork at the piece of chocolate soufflé as her mind whirled back to the ride back to the office.

"I'm not buying you any more of that Riesling if you wouldn't even bother being a worthy companion," Gabe teased, before downing another glass of scotch across her.

Her head immediately perked up, breaking free from her introspection. Alex forced a smile in response.

"As if another glass would make a dent in your indomitable fortune," she leaned back, trying to hide her thoughts under the façade of her sarcasm, rolling her eyes at him for added effect.

The two find themselves in a swanky New York restaurant, its upscale interior design worthy of the five star Yelp rating. The sleek tables and gray scandinavian chairs made Alex grateful that her wine red dress fit among the crowd. With a private booth overlooking the city lights and the delicious gourmet food served, she did not regret accepting Gabe's dinner invitation to meet a client.

Her mind decided that more work and Gabe's company was a great way to distract herself from the nagging of her memories, and it didn't hurt that the senior partner was easy on the eyes.

And when the supposed big shot canceled at the last minute, Alex completely saw it as a win.

"Something bothers you." Gabe suddenly articulated, breaking her from her contemplations.

Alex's brow arched in reply, as Gabe stated it like a fact, not as a question.

Crossing her legs under the table, she folded her arms across her chest.

"And why does that concern my pretend-boyfriend, hm?" she interjected, hoping to evade his interrogation.

"You're not the only astute one in this booth," Gabe let his eyes trail across her defensive stance the second time today.

Throughout the course of their meal, the heat between them simmered as well as the flow of their usual banter. Their chemistry was palpable, convincing even the waiter of the restaurant. The cocky man was certainly redefining the phrase hot and cold for Alex. He quickly and easily shut down her attempts to flirt, pulling back when the temperature between them reached a boiling point.

But Alex was more surprised, pleasantly so, when Gabe briefly opened up about his past and the vague explanation of why he's still not settled down.

She sensed the current trajectory of their conversation was what Gabe planned to have all along.

But now, as she swirled the remaining expensive liquid in her glass, trying to decide whether to put her guards up or to just give in, she couldn't deny the uncharacteristic softness in his gaze. It was magnetizing, making Alex want to fold and drop her pretentions.

She watched him as he seemed to eagerly anticipate for her retort, a half smile lingering on that pretty mouth of his.

Alex knew he won't push her if she didn't want to, yet a part of her wanted to share the heaviness that weighed on her shoulder since meeting Lydia Rothswell. Of how much the teenager reminded her of her old, naïve self.

She's been trying to rack her brain for a reasonable explanation for her growing desire to introduce herself to Gabe more than she'd allowed the string of men that she had trysts with. Despite her continuous self-denial, her gut is telling her that Gabe wasn't like any other she crossed paths with.

Making up her mind, she decided to let the door open. Maybe just a little.

She sipped her wine beckoning some needed courage, wishing that she ordered something stronger.

Taking a deep breath, she began, her eyes fixed on the view behind him.

"Since you were wondering, my otherwise impeccable track record is stained by one mistake," she paused, finally turning her gaze to Gabe's waiting eyes.

"Like Lydia, I trusted the wrong person," she continued. "I... risked everything and got nothing."

Gabe's mouth twitched ever so slightly, sensing a fluttering in him because of Alex's candor. There was no trace of the witty comebacks he'd grown to see in her, only vulnerability.

And somehow, he adored her more.

He watched her as she bit her thumbnail, an action greatly contradicting the fiery personality she projected in front of everyone else.

Alex gritted her teeth as she fought back the overwhelming emotions as she stopped herself from revealing more than she's prepared to. Not yet, not tonight, she thought.

"But I woke up from that nightmare, solemnly swearing to myself that I wouldn't repeat the same wrong decision that almost railroaded my whole future," she concluded, determined not to expose herself any further.

A hush fell between them.

Alex raised her head to meet the eyes of the man that made her walls crack, expecting to find intrigue. Instead, she found a subtle look of understanding.

It's as if it was telling her that he knew. He knew every pain and every hurt that she wanted to just forget and bury inside a box, never to be opened again.

Just because for him, pain was a familiar companion. That like her, he too, has been through hell and back.

And while she relished under his attention, her breath slowed, letting herself be trapped within the depths of those reassuring brown eyes. Alex thought nothing can make her drop down her guard, but Gabe's next actions proved that there's still more he can do to break down her walls.

Without thinking, Gabe reached for her hand and took it in his, skimming his own thumb on her knuckles in an attempt to comfort her. He smiled warmly at her, expressing a gentleness that she never thought he was capable of.

It made Alex's heart skip a beat.

Even Gabe seemed to slowly enter the same daze, unable to veer away from Alex's unguarded view. Any remnants of his resistance, leaving him. He found himself leaning in, lured by the heady scent of her perfume - a mix of coffee, vanilla and jasmine. An unexpected combination that enticed him more to her.

For a few moments, their world stood still, as if they were on the edge of discovering something that all their lives they subconsciously sought.

Something more than any flirtation or any pursuit for lustful pleasure. Something more...

"More drinks, Gabe?" a familiar voice broke them from the temporary oasis that they pulled themselves in.

All of a sudden, they were sucked back to the reality of their actual surroundings. The noise of other patrons of the restaurant, the soft ambience of the lights overhead, and the fact that he was her current boss, and that she was under his professional supervision.

Gabe turned to James, their waiter, and refused the offer nonchalantly, and instead asked for their check.

"We should head back to the salt mines, the stack of work on my desk probably hasn't gotten any smaller since we left," Gabe casually said, erasing any trace of what just happened between them. Alex silently agreed, following his queue by checking her phone for emails.

The trip to the lobby was wordless, as well as the wait for their ride. Up until Gabe opened the door of the town car, not following Alex inside.

"Aren't you coming?" Alex inquired, briefly confused.

He cleared his throat, his expression stoic before he answered her. "I think its best if we part ways here. I wasn't kidding about needing to head back to the office," he paused, a look of contemplation in his eyes before it softly shifted to that of sincerity.

"You, on the other hand, should go home and get some rest. Partner's orders."

Alex couldn't help but smile. "Whatever you say, Gabe."

"Careful, Alex. I just might hold you to that promise one of these days," Gabe replied, the usual playfulness evident in his tone.

And with that, the door closed and the car pulled away.

But as Gabe watched the vehicle fade out of his sight, his phone pinged for an email. Glancing down at his screen, he saw the name of the sender, prompting him to open it in haste.

The message contained a single statement: "I found what you asked me to look for." An attachment was included.

When he opened the file, he saw a picture of a younger version of the woman he just parted from.

And a look of recognition passed over his face.

Author's Notes: This is getting a little canon divergent, though I'm just expanding their dinner conversation and using the intimate setting provided in the original book.

Tags: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @fucking-random1 @choicesficwriterscreations

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed on succeeding installments. If not, please reblog or comment, I'd really appreciate it!

#choices laws of attraction #choices fanfiction #choices loa #choices loa fanfiction #choices laws of attraction fanfiction #gabe ricci #gabe ricci x mc #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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laurfilijames · 4 years ago

Text

Slow Burn- Part 3

Pairing: Modern AU Fili x female OC Prim

Words: 2,582

Warnings: mentions of sex, male-receiving oral sex, nudity, orgasm. Alcohol, smoking, cursing.

Summary: Fili and Prim are done torturing each other, but not before one last agonizing encounter at a dinner out with his family.

A/N: I solemnly swear this is the last tease before it actually goes down. Part 4 is gonna be a doozy.

——————-

The day crawled. Dinner wasn’t until 8 o’clock and the anticipation for tonight would truly be the end of her.

Prim flew through her chores, only to allow more time to think about what would happen later, nothing she did able to distract her enough.

Her temper from last night still boiled within, adding to her desperation for Fili even more.

She felt reckless out of lust for him, pent up so badly she would likely orgasm at a simple touch from him.

Prim assured herself she just had to make it through dinner, knowing it would be agonizing to be near him, talking to him, hearing him laugh, and that he would likely be playing hard to get once again, but God it was going to be so worth it.

She had the idea of sending him a text-something simple, just to encourage him to want her a little bit more and make him feel as eager as she was.

You’re mine tonight.

Direct and to the point. She smiled to herself, imagining what he would come back with, hoping it would be as indecent as the thoughts in her head now.

About half an hour had passed before her phone buzzed and she eagerly pulled it out of her back pocket, hoping it was Fili responding to her.

Her stomach fluttered. It was.

Do you want a ride to dinner?

She almost threw her phone across the barn.

Was he fucking serious?

She exhaled deeply and reminded herself that he was doing this on purpose and she would need to do her best to keep her composure tonight.

But goddamnit did he piss her off.

She waited to reply, needing to come up with something that would take him down a notch and cause his mind to think of nothing else other than fucking her for the rest of the day.

Eventually she sent;

No thanks, but I will ride you later.

It was finally time for dinner.

Reservations were made at an up-scale restaurant, one that took weeks to book into and Prim could never afford.

It was of course Bilbo’s idea and insistence that they go there, having pulled some strings to get them a last minute table, wanting to celebrate Kili and Tauriel moving in together in proper style.

Although she wasn’t thrilled about how much her dinner was going to cost her, Prim delighted in being able to wear a luxurious dress that left nothing to the imagination and knew would leave Fili floored.

She was still pissed at him for ignoring her confession of wanting him last night and was determined to dismantle his nonchalant demeanour toward her.

She smiled to herself as she slipped the champagne coloured, silk dress over her skin and adjusted the thin straps on her shoulders.

Prim turned to admire the open back in the mirror, the cut hovering over the dimples above her bum and the material accentuating the curve of her hips.

She couldn’t wear panties with it, making her feel all the more confident and seductive. The neck hung low, but didn’t reveal any cleavage, the only exposure of her breasts being her nipples peaking into the material.

She left her makeup simple and her hair in loose curls that collected around her shoulders.

After spritzing on her favourite perfume, Prim slipped into a strappy pair of heels and prayed Fili could no longer resist her when she looked like this.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he first clapped eyes on her, loving that he would be forced to keep his composure in public.

Arriving at the restaurant, Prim paid the cab driver and stepped inside the lobby, jazz music and the chattering of people filling her ears. The hostess led her through the crowd of tables to the patio that overlooked the bay, pointing her to the table where her companions were already seated.

She took notice of the many gazes that fell upon her as she walked through the place, but her favourite so far was Kili’s, who practically spit out his drink and hit Fili’s arm to draw his attention to her.

Prim smiled as she approached, trying her best not to laugh when Fili abruptly stood and nearly knocked his chair over. She purposefully ignored him and went first to Bilbo- his arms outstretched to hug her and kiss her on both cheeks.

“Well don’t you look expensive!” he flattered.

Thorin followed suit, telling her how ravishing she looked. Next, she embraced Tauriel, Prim telling her how stunning she was and how thrilled she was for her and Kili.

Kili wrapped his arms around her in the way he always did and said into her ear,

“You’re about to kill my brother looking like that.”

She matched his huge grin when she pulled away and raised her eyebrows in agreement with him.

“That’s the plan,” she said cheekily.

Fili stood patiently on the other side of his brother, waiting his turn, his expression stoic.

Prim finally took him in, looking devastatingly handsome in his black suit and black dress shirt that was open a couple of buttons at the top, revealing his blond coils. He was so calm and collected just as he always was, all the while she felt like she was about to combust.

He reached one hand out from his pockets and placed it on her hip, leaning in to kiss her cheek, his stubble-coated face brushing against her in a way that sent a shiver down her spine and she longed to know what the roughness would feel like against her more sensitive skin.

“You are stunning,” he praised as he pulled away from her, his eyes steely and serious.

“Thank you, Fi,” she replied, audible only to him.

They stared at each other for a moment before Bilbo cleared his throat, prompting Fili to pull her chair out for her to sit.

Fili’s breath tickled her ear as he leaned forward to tuck in her chair and whispered to her,

“I hope you meant every word you said in those texts,”

She inhaled sharply and bit her lip while nodding in confirmation. Before she could respond he pulled away from her and took his own seat beside her, so close his leg threatened to brush against hers.

She could’ve begged him then to touch her, to make contact with her body, knowing tonight she would push whatever boundary it was that was keeping them from having each other regardless of what it took.

Fili was in awe of her. He always was.

He’d been anxiously waiting for her to arrive to dinner, bouncing his leg in anticipation and distracted from the conversations at the table.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the texts she’d sent him earlier, he’d been hard and aching all day in anticipation of being with her, fucking her, claiming her.

But the wait was worth it. When Kili hit his arm and he turned to see her gliding through to them he felt like she had him under some sort of spell. Like she could control him in any way she wanted, and oh, would he let her.

She radiated sex. It oozed from her.

She glowed with beauty and confidence and he wanted to place his lips on every part of her, be with her. Love her.

Fili certainly noticed the way other patrons in the restaurant were staring at her, but instead of feeling jealous he felt proud.

She was perfect and she was his.

The air felt charged between them when she finally greeted her way through his family and over to him.

He watched her body respond to him when he placed his hand on her hip and brought his lips to her cheek, her breath hitching and her nipples hardening under the silk material that covered them.

Fuck.

He allowed himself to imagine for a moment hiking her dress up and pushing inside her, right there against the table.

He knew there was nothing between her naked body and that dress and he felt the heat in his blood rush through him and down to his cock.

Thankfully, Bilbo cleared his throat before Fili could let his thoughts progress any further and he pulled Prim’s chair out for her to sit, inhaling her scent as she sat before him.

She was intoxicating and he couldn’t resist another chance to make her ache for him. Gripping the back of her chair, he pushed it in toward the table, leaning forward to murmur in her ear,

“I hope you meant every word you said in those texts,”

He watched her body stiffen, and he thought again of her earlier promise;

You’re mine tonight.

She nodded yes, her lip tucked in her teeth, and Fili wanted to abandon their dinner right then and take her home to let her fulfill those words and finally give in to every urge they had denied each other of.

Dinner was great. Their conversations flowed easily as they always did, finding themselves once again in their own bubble, lost in each other. She had a way of making him laugh more than anyone else could and he was never happier than when he was in her presence. She was caring and beautiful in every possible way, and the way she adored and was adored by his family helped solidify every reason why he loved her.

Still, his mind kept going to the things she could do to him, how her lips that were curled up into a smile now would look wrapped around his cock. He wasn’t able to decide what he wanted more; to make love to her slowly and carefully or rough and persistant.

She looked at him with a heavy want in her eyes like she was able to see his thoughts, images of their bodies finally wrapped up together, making him feel even more unstable. He rubbed his hand over his face in an attempt to gain control, but not before his brother took notice of his agitation.

“Are you two okay?” Kili asked, conscious to the fact they were both clearly flustered and worked up.

“Fine!” they chimed in unison, Fili giving Prim a knowing look and fidgeting in his chair once again while he watched her grip her thigh in restraint.

He couldn’t take it anymore. They were both guilty of being selfish and stubborn for too long, constantly playing with their feelings and emotions. He should’ve told her from the beginning how he felt, but it didn’t matter now, knowing this taunting game they were playing was ending tonight.

But that wasn’t going to stop him from teasing her to the edge one last time.

The entire night was like one agonizing session of foreplay. Everything Fili did caused arousal to bloom deep in Prim’s stomach and she began to find it difficult to carry on a conversation with anyone but him.

“Excuse me a moment, I’m just going to grab a drink.”

She stood and made a bee-line for the bar, needing to clear her head of Fili, but it was impossible. She couldn’t stop thinking of his hands all over her, his lips following suit, him filling her and providing her with unrelenting pleasure.

“Can I have a shot of vodka, please?” she asked the bartender, knowing it would do nothing to calm her but needing to make an attempt.

She downed it, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat, exhaling deeply with her eyes closed.

“I’ve never seen you this unsettled before,”

Prim nearly jumped out of her skin, unaware that Fili had followed her.

“Fili!” she gasped, “Christ, you scared me!” her hand clasped her chest.

He chuckled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,”

She stared into his eyes, cursing him internally.

You are the reason I’m so unsettled, she thought.

“I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me.” she lied, carding her fingers through her hair.

“Are you sure? You seem...frustrated, tempted,” he leaned into her, pressing his hand against her exposed lower back to pull her close,

“aroused.”

Damn him! she cursed in her head. He was going to break her.

“Not in the slightest,” she challenged him, trying her best to prove his words wrong. Prim placed her hand on his chest and allowed it to linger there before she moved to straighten his lapel.

“Hmm. If you say so,” he disputed.

His eyes traveled back and forth from her lips to her eyes as if he was toying with the idea of kissing her, a retaliation to her move last night.

Instead he released his hand from her back and faced the bar, ordering a bottle of Prosecco for the table.

Prim took the opportunity to break his cockiness, brushing a piece of his hair that had fallen out of place back around his ear, the sensation making him close his eyes and set his jaw as her fingers trailed down his neck.

She touched her lips to his ear and whispered,

“If you don’t believe me then you’ll have to find out...”

His eyes flashed open and he turned to look at her just as she began to walk away, sending him a mischievous grin as she sashayed back to the table.

It took everyone ages to eat their dessert.

This was complete torture.

All Fili wanted was to be away from his family and to have an opportunity to be alone with Prim. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to execute the rest of the evening, unsure if she would want to be at her place or his, but knowing she wanted to be with him wherever it was.

The waiter finally came around with the bills and Fili happily paid for Prim’s meal along with his own which she of course protested but eventually allowed him to treat her.

They all walked out into the growing night, saying goodbye before going to their respective houses, leaving Prim and Fili standing on their own.

Now that they were by themselves, Prim felt comfortable enough to light a cigarette. Even though she didn’t smoke often she knew Thorin and Bilbo frowned upon it, yet Fili never seemed to mind, even occasionally joining her in one.

She leaned against a railing as she exhaled smoke into the darkness, curious as to what Fili intended for the rest of their night.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her first, his voice husky.

She stared at him intensely as she took another drag from her cigarette before answering,

“Nothing much,”

He laughed and shook his head, “You’re impossible,”

“Well are you going to tell me what you’re thinking then?” she retorted, tipping her head to the side, interested in his answer.

He took a step toward her and plucked the cigarette out of her fingers, taking a long drag before extinguishing it on the railing beside her.

He then stood before her, the most serious look on his face and she shuddered when he placed his hands on either side of her face.

“How incredible you look. How amazing you are. How good you’ll taste...” he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, his mouth teasing to make contact.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” Prim asked, barely able to form the words.

“Mhm,” was all Fili could get out.

———————

#fili the dwarf #fili the hobbit #dean o'gorman #fili fic #fili #fili friday #fili x oc #fili x reader #modern au #smut #fili smut #slow burn #smut series #modern fili #modern au fili #fili durin

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weasley-detectives · 4 years ago

Text

I wrote a new prologue for Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives. Does that count as an update? ^^; Well have some Fred & George shenanigans anyway.

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

"Well isn't this a riot. Blimey, if I wasn't dead already, I'd die of boredom."

"Mum made me swear not to put any firecrackers in your coffin," said George.

"Travesty." Fred shook his head, solemnly. "What about the dungbombs?"

"Of course. I'm not an animal."

"Excellent." He stiffened as he caught sight of the plump hourglass figure of a familiar witch heading their way. "Oi, heads up. Mrs Crannock, 12 o'clock."

"Oh bloody he- hi Mrs Crannock."

"Oh George!" the elderly witch sniffed wetly, enveloping him in a smothering hug before he could duck away. "Just seeing your face, your poor dear face- just like Fred- oh you soul, you sweet, sweet boy."

George patted her back awkwardly. "There, there Mrs Crannock."

Fred's silvery transparent face floated beside him looking gleeful. "Never knew she was so fond of me. Remember that time we used one of her bras as a parachute for her pet chihuahua?"

"Such sweet innocent boys!"

"I still have a scar on my bum where she hexed me," Fred added musingly, scratching his rear.

Biting his lip to keep from laughing, George hissed, "You promised you wouldn't do this."

"Oh come on. You can't blame a dead guy for giving up the chance to roast his own funeral."

"Oh my poor boy, you're trembling!" Mrs Crannock wailed.

"Err, yes. Just.. Hard keeping it together, you know?"

She laid a hand on his cheek and gave him a long, serious look. "Real men cry, George my boy. Real men cry."

"Yes, George," Fred placed an icy cold hand on twin's shoulder and squeezed. "Don't hold back. Let it out, let it aaall out."

When the old witch was out of earshot, George rounded on him.

"Stop enjoying this."

"Stop laughing through my funeral!"

"Stop making me laugh!"

A wicked glint lit Fred's eyes. "Keep it together, Forge old boy, you've still gotta get through the eulogy."

"You wouldn't dare-"

"And don't be afraid to make it a real weepy. If you get stuck, I'll be riiiight over there in the front row, cheering you on."

George gave him a stony smile. "Why there's Angelina. Doesn't she look positively ravishing. Who knows, maybe we'll bond over shared grief, get a little closer, see where the night takes--oh bloody hell!" he squawked as Fred's ghostly hand plunged out of his chest to flip him the finger.

"Unless you want me to haunt all of your dates from now on, you'll keep your wand in your trousers when it concerns my ex, Georgiekins."

Suddenly the room fell quiet. George felt his brother stiffen as the rest of the Weasley family plodded in, Ginny with her red rimmed eyes clutching onto Harry, whose haunted face was deathly pale, mirroring Ron's vacant gaze on his other side. Finally, their parents came in. Molly barely seemed able to put one foot in front of the other. The sight of her hit them like a gut punch, the fierce tiger of a woman they'd loved as much as they feared her sharp tongue, reduced to shambling wreck in their father's trembling arms.

Suddenly their jokes didn't feel so funny. Fred looked at his brother's stricken face beside him. The hand that held his notes was shaking. Fred reached out and gave it a quick icy squeeze. George looked at him, the horror in his eyes briefly visible.

Fred gave him a shaky smile. "On with the show, mate."

The muscles in George's face relaxed a little, returning the smile with a nod. Show was right. From now on, it seemed as if his life would be one grand performance. Not for the first time George wondered if the ghostly apparition of his twin was a fragment of his imagination, a manifestation of his inability to conceive of a world without his brother and best friend joined at the hip. He looked at the notes in his hand and took a deep breath.

He stepped to the podium overlooking the grieving faces of their loved ones, and began.

"Dearly beloved... Did I ever tell you about the time Fred transfigured Ron's Teddy bear into a spider?"

"Oi, that was you, you complete git!" Fred hissed.

A grin split George's face from ear to ear. He took another breath and continued. On with the show.

#fred and goerge weasley #Weasley twins #Fred and George #Fred Weasley #George Weasley #Harry Potter #Weasley writes #Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives #hp fic

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poutyhannie · 5 years ago

Photo

Part two!! You can find part one on my blog, its the only other one hehe. Once again, feedback is much appreciated!

warnings: smut, fluff, oral, fem!reader receiving, car sex with a twist ;), post date sexy time

word count: +1.7

part 1, part 2

The white lights in the ice cream parlor cast a luminescence in Chan’s eyes that draws out a lighter brown color as he studies the flavors below him. You really hope he picks vanilla or sweet cream or something white…not for any particular reason, you just liked the thought of it pooling at the sides of his plush lips and dribbling down his chin, running down his sweaty neck-

“Y/n? You gonna get something?” Chan’s concerned voice pierces through your embarrassing thoughts as you snap your eyes up to his. He giggles at catching you off guard and nudges you softly with his shoulder, nodding at the ice cream case. The pastel pink clad employee gives you a jaded stare and you quickly choose your go-to: artificial pink and blue cotton candy in a sugar cone. A soft, endeared smile spreads across Chan’s face and he tells the worker that he’ll be getting strawberry cream. You pout a little, but the mostly vanilla ice cream with chunks of strawberries will have to satisfy your fantasies. Not that Chan would let the sweet trickle down his beautiful face, he’s always too clean for that, you realize to your dismay.

Once again, Chan pays, claiming that you paid last time though you can’t really remember as you both head back to his car. With one hand on the steering wheel, one cautiously gripping the cone, Chan drives to a secluded hill that overlooks the nightscape. By this time, you’re already crunching down on the cone while Chan licks around the ice cream. With his eyes trained on the twinkling lights in front of you, so it’s easy to just stare at him.

His cherry red hair is messy and curls raise from his neck, the same curls that you love playing with at night, when his head is on your chest and his breathing is all you can hear. A wistful look overcomes his eyes as he turns them up to the heavenly bodies he’s so enraptured by. Every time you both come up here, he always talks about constellations, meteors, and shooting stars. The wonder and excitement in his eyes and voice whenever he does makes your heart swell and thank the stars for giving him so much joy. You’ve decided to appreciate them more than before, just because Chan loves them so much.

His voice this time, however, is distant as he rests his head on the headrest. “Some civilizations thought that the stars were souls reincarnated so that their loved ones would have light in the night.”

You nod solemnly, “Yeah, like Mufasa.”

A choked laugh escapes from Chan’s throat as he stares at you in disbelief and amusement, “Like Lion King?”

Smiling, you nod again, “It would make sense, though. That’s why there are so many. And maybe shooting stars are people that momentarily died but came back and that’s why we wish on them, to have as much luck as them.”

Chan lets out a low, “Hmm, I’d never thought of that before. Maybe constellations are families or groups of friends.”

A slow smile spreads across your face as you complete Chan’s sentence, “So then, you can stay with your loved ones after death.” He nods, looking over at you with what you can only describe as admiration and contentment.

You’ve long finished your ice cream but Chan’s just started on his cone. He mistakes your stare as a silent plead, smiling softly as he offers you a bite. Your mind is made up in a split second, you very slowly, while looking straight at Chan with doe eyes, take a long lick of his ice cream, flicking it back into your mouth. You smirk as Chan stares at you, shocked before rushing to quickly eat his cone.

“You wanna use that promise from last time, babygirl?”

Finally.

You’ve moved into the cool night breeze as Chan lays down on the roof of his car, patting his chest, a smirk on his face. You whine, tugging at his black t shirt, “No, take this off please.”

He laughs softly and sits up to swiftly do so. The pale, milky white of Chan’s chest provides beautiful contrast to the dark night sky and you really can’t help but stare at him. Like the flirt he is, Chan gives you a wink before laying back down on the roof. It really doesn’t help because the anticipation has a coil tightening in your stomach as you can feel the uncomfortable wetness sticking your panties to your hot core. You pull your simple black panties off, tossing them on top of Chan’s shirt, which rests on the hood.

“Y’know, Channie I’d really like to keep my skirt on, but I wanna see your pretty eyes.”

The thought of your bare ass out in the open night air causes Chan’s semi to harden just a bit more than he’d like to admit. Of course though, seeing it is better than imagining and when you unzip your pastel purple skirt, Chan groans loudly. The cool air hits your hot thighs and dripping pussy, making you clench around nothing. Chan pulls you by your hands to him, your wetness rubbing against his glorious abs. The friction makes you quiver against Chan’s lips. Though his abs provide a cold surface to rut on, Chan’s neck is hot as you press open mouthed kisses and make red marks all over it.

Your hands are in his red hair and plays with his soft curls, a contrast to your vicious teeth, ravaging his pretty neck. Chan’s sharp Adam’s apple bobs as his tent grows and you pull back.

“What if someone comes up here, Chan?” You ask dumbly, realizing you should have asked this when he pulled you out of the car. Beneath you, Chan gives you a cheeky, wide smile.

“Then you’d better get to it, babygirl,” he says, smacking your ass lightly.

You give him a half hearted glare—the ache in your core is too much to ignore for too long. The car roof is smooth under your knees as you lower your dripping, hot core onto Chan’s puckered lips. When he give a tentative lick, your arms shoot out onto the roof, catching you.

“M-more,” you whisper, beginning to grind on Chan’s face.

His cold hands grip your bare thighs tightly and he sticks his tongue into you, nodding his head to your tempo. His wet mouth fans hot breaths into you and you squeeze Chan’s head between your thighs. You feel his lips curl into a smile and you look down to see Chan’s adorable cheek squished between your thighs. His eyes form smiling crescents and you let out a giggle, “You’re so cute, Channie.”

He cocks an eyebrow and you know he’d say something along the lines of ‘even while you’re riding my face?’.

When his teeth snag your clit, you double forward again, using your arms as leverage to grind down harder on Chan’s face. No doubt Chan’s grip on your thighs will leave bruises and you tremble at the thought. Reading your mind, Chan removes his hands, making you whine loudly. While he runs caresses up your right thigh, his other hand finds its way up to rub your swollen bud. Your high pitched, embarrassing moan has you biting down on your shoulder, afraid to alert anyone in the area. Annoyed by this, Chan shoves two long, ringed fingers into your core. The underside of his rings are warm from gripping your skin but the tops of them are cold from the night air and your jaw lets go of your shoulder, moaning with no regards for anyone but the man under you. He curls his fingers, beckoning your orgasm closer, scissoring deep into you. You feel his rings clink together.

Its coming faster than you want; you don’t want this moment, overcome by euphoria, to end. You cry out, trying your absolute best to hold out though your thighs burn from the repetitive motion.

Chan removes his fingers, trailing your arousal on your thigh before clutching your hips still. His tongue continues its swirling, thrusting assault into you and you gasp as it becomes harder to fend off your orgasm. His lips press into your clit harshly, spreading your folds apart. You feel his hand move down and his grunts as he pulls down his pants, almost frantically jacking off. The thought of how this looks causes you to loose your motivation to hold out. “I-I’m gonna come,” you whine, ready to let go. Chan’s tongue slows down and you cry out as you realize he’s telling you to wait. Despite his almost lethargic tongue movements, you feel his hand quickly maneuver over his undoubtedly aching dick. Tears spring in your eyes as you can’t go anymore.

When Chan groans into your core, you feel hot ropes of Chan’s cum spray onto ass and probably onto Chan’s abs. Your body spasms in pleasure as your high crashes over you. It has your eyes rolling into your head, your toes curling, and a high-pitched cry torn from your throat. Chan’s tongue licks you up and you can’t wait to see his face covered in your juices.

Pulling back shakily and weakly, you collapse onto Chan’s chest, ignoring his cum on both of you. With a dumb smile on his face, he looks down at you and you swear you could come again from the sight before you. His hair sticks out from your constant tugging and his eyes are hazy and droopy from lust. His red lips glisten in from your cum, which coats his chin and is so slowly dribbling down to cover his jawline.

His voice is thick and low, “Is this what you were thinking about when I was eating my ice cream, babygirl?”

Tiredly, you nod your head as the burning in your thighs subsides, moving to cuddle into Chan’s arms. You lick up your arousal from his neck, tracing the trail up to his swollen lips. The kiss is sloppy, a mix of your cum and both of your saliva. Its hot and messy, but Chan’s hand gently strokes your cheek.

#bangchan smut #bang chan #skz smut #stray kids #skz #stray kids smut #bangchan imagine #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #skz dark hours #skz blurbs #skz bangchan #stray kids bangchan #does this count as a one shot? its part two sooo

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duxhess-kryzewan · 4 years ago

Note

Maybe they're running away from the police and to distract them Satine just pushes Obi-Wan into the next wall and makes out with him. It works, the police just walks by, but the both of them have a hard time breaking apart and Obi-Wan is really emotionally confused. The ride to their hotel is just really awkward at first, but as soon as they're in their room they just continue.

He was no stranger to being on the run with her. In fact, it had consumed most of their lives for the better part of a year back in their youth. But then it was all in attempt to protect her. He supposes he's doing them same now, but it had been from bounty hunters before, not the people who were supposed to be part of the good guys.

She takes a sharp turn down an alley, and he prays it provides just enough cover of darkness that they can escape, but he only finds a dead end instead. They were doomed if they didn't get out of there fast.

"This isn't good." He says to her, frantically looking around for some form of escape.

The stomping off feet on concrete grows closer, and by the growing fear on Satine's face he knows she hears them approaching too and the daunting truth is becoming more and more of a possibility; if they're caught, the Republic would imprison her.

A shout echo's through the alleyway and he's certain that this is the end, that he's failed to get her to safety.

"Do you trust me?"

He blinks, "What?"

"Do. You. Trust. Me."

He wonders why she would ever have to ask such a thing. She should know without a doubt that he trusts her. But questioning her would have to wait for another time.

"Of course."

He's not sure exactly what he had been expecting from her, but being pushed against the cold wall of the surrounding building and kissed by her was no where close to what he anticipated.

Not that he would ever admit it aloud, but the sensation of her kissing him after all of these years overwhelmed every nerve ending in his body to the point that he almost forget that they were being hunted.

"Don't move." She whispers to him, as if he had any intention of doing so.

It's a good plan, he rationalizes. Smart. Clever. Pressed that close together with their cloaked faces made it impossible to tell who they were. For all the people chasing them knew, they were simply a young couple getting intimidate in a back alley.

His hands tug gently at her waist and he pulls her just a bit closer than she actually was and it dawns on him how long it truly had been since he had held her. Its only to distract them. He told himself. It doesn't mean anything. Rationalizing had always been one of his strong suits. He feels them approach, lurking slowly past the alleys entrance and for a moment he truly thinks that her plan didn't work, and that they had seen right through them.

But then he senses them retreating down the street. Still, he makes no move to break the kiss yet -- for their safety, of course -- until he was beyond sure that they had fled. Or just a bit longer.

To be thorough, he assured himself.

Cupping her face in his hands just to kiss her more soundly was also part of being thorough. Keeping up an act was important when you were trying to sell a cover

It's what he was telling himself at least; and if it was a little more personally motivated he decided he didn't want to think about that too hard. Even if he wanted too, the sensation of her pressed against him was enough to render his cognitive thinking a complete mess. She's the one who pulls away from him though, saving him the responsibility of breaking their connection. He lets out a mental sigh of relief and thanks whatever omnipotent being is overlooking them; he truly didn't know if he had the strength to stop kissing her. "We need to go." She whispers. There's a look in her eyes that he can't quite decipher. Confusion, perhaps? He understood the feeling too well.

They stay in the cover of darkness, weaving in and out between buildings and people that littered the streets of the city. If they could just make it to Padme and deliver the card with the true recording then they would be in the clear.

"We have to go to the Senate building," he tells her, "Padme will be able to get the information to the chancellor then."

She nods, "Then we need to move."

He grabs her arm before she can get more than a step away from him and turns her to face him, "They'll arrest you."

"I know," she says solemnly, "But it'll buy you enough time to get to Padme."

He doesn't like the plan. The idea of her getting arrested shook him to the core, but he knows it's the only way to truly get her name cleared.

"I don't like this."

"Me either, but it's the only thing we can do."

He sighs, "I know."

_________________________

The commotion had been too much in such a short amount of time that he really hadn't gotten to see her between the time they had arrested her - a sight that made him a bit sick to his stomach - and when she had been released from custody on order of the Chancellor. The galactic senate had been in session with her since the full recording of Almec had been revealed.

"Waiting for your girlfriend?" Anakin had asked.

"They've been in session for- she's not my girlfriend, Anakin!"

Anakin rolls his eyes, "Whatever you say, I just don't know many people you would risk your loyalty with the Republic for. Harboring a fugitive is a rather serious risk."

Obi-Wan glares, "And so is continuing a secret affair with a senator."

Anakin left rather quickly after the comment.

Lucky for him, only moments later session had ended. Senators had filed out in groups, the last of which contained Satine and Padme, who were chatting quietly amongst themselves.

"Duchess." He greets before looking at Padme, "As always Padme, your willingness to help is invaluable."

Padme nods politely, "Of course, I'm overjoyed that I could help Satine reveal the truth." Padme turns to look at her friend, "Would you like me to summon the Senate guards to accompany you back to your suite?"

Satine shook her head, "That's quite alright, I was actually hoping that perhaps

Master Kenobi would escort me," she glances over to him, "Given the events that have unfolded since my arrival we haven't had much of a chance to catch up, and I leave just after sunrise tomorrow."

Padme looks from Satine to him, and he clearly see the amused look in her eye.

God help him, she was just as bad as Anakin.

"Whatever he Duchess deems best." He replies, trying his best to remain professional despite the look that Padme was giving him.

After the two women exchanges goodbyes, and some questionable whispers between them, they walked silently down the vacant hallways and it's only when the elevator comes into sight that he realizes he's going to be confined in a closed space with her, and suddenly all he can think about was their kiss in the alleyway. Truthfully, he really hadn't thought of much else aside from clearing her name and now that she was no longer a fugitive the kiss occupied every spare thought.

He looks at her as the doors slide close, wondering just how much she was thinking about what happened. Was it just a cover to her? It certainly didn't feel like it. But then, women weren't really his strong suit. Or emotions, for that matter.

In truth, he was more confused than anything. He had always known that she was important to him, but their alleyway make out (there was really no other way he could describe the interaction) had stirred up long buried feelings. Hadn't he gotten over her by now?

Clearly not.

When the doors open, he gently places his hand along the small of her back and guides her down the hall towards her door. His skin burns pleasantly from the touch and he swears he's sees the slightest hint of a blush tinge her cheeks.

"Shouldn't your guards be stationed at your door?" He notes as they approach the suite.

"I dismissed them." She says with a shrug.

An eyebrow quirks up, "Doesn't sound very safe for a person of your nobility. Who know what dangers are-"

She cuts him off, "-lurking around the Senate Building?

He glares at her. She did raise a good point, the building was as safe as any, but he still didn't like the idea of her not having her guards around. Satine was no stranger to attempts on her life.

They stop when they reach her door, his hand still on her back and its dawns on him that it's all around possible that this is the last time they'll see each other. Such is the lives they have chosen to live.

"You are an invaluable asset to me, Obi-Wan." She says, placing a hand gently on his forearm, "Always my Jedi Knight to the rescue."

He smiles at her, "Of course, my dear."

The tension between them only becomes more palpable when the pet name slips out and he wonders if she's having the same struggle too. The idea that it didn't mean anything to her was almost more unbearable that if it did.

"Satine," he says softly, "About earlier-"

Her lips pressing against his cuts him off and he wastes not time gripping her at the hips and pulling her too him.

He's not totally sure who opened the door, but he knows he's the one who kicked it shut behind her. This time, there was no one after them. Gone were the cloaks and fear of being arrested and instead came a reignited longing for one another and force how was he ever going to stop kissing her?

When the morning light fills the room he finds Satine curled up into his side, her head burrowed against his shoulder and arm wrapped around his waist. He trails a up and down the bare skin of her back until her eyes flutter open.

She kisses him again and he knows that yes, it meant something to her too.

#obi wan x satine #obitine #obitine fanfic #obitine fanfiction #obitine prompt #obitine fluff

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jayankles · 4 years ago

Text

We Need to Talk: Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Parent!Reader

Sam and Dean need the Reader’s help with a case involving her expertise but Dean and the Reader need to have a little chat.

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: Dean is rightfully angry in this. Talks of sex. (if I missed anything let me know.)

Written for: @spngenrebingo / @badthingshappenbingo / @spndeanbingo / @spnaubingo / @/spnonewordbingo

Squares Filled: meet the parents / voice breaking / single parent au / free space / rocky

Also written for @sdavid09 ’s Tale Tellers 2020 Bingo Challenge, covering the ‘Slice of life’ square.

Part 1

FEEDBACK IS GOLD AND APPRECIATED

“Uh, Y/N? Who’s this?” Dean said as Ollie had stopped playing with his toys and started to stare between the two new giants in the room.

Awkwardly, you rub and twist your hands around each other, a nervous act that you had acquired over the years. “This is my son, Oliver. Dean, I think we need to talk.”

“Hey, Sam? Could you watch him for a few minutes please?” When he accepted it, you graciously thanked him, leading Dean up to your bedroom away from prying eyes and ears. It was tough, stepping into your bedroom thinking about the last time you saw him and his brother.

“It’s really good to see you.” You break the silence as you sit on the edge of your bed.

He only nods, obviously it’s awkward, it’s been over three years since you had seen each other. “So, you wanted to talk.”

Damn it, the man is smart as hell but he could be oblivious to the most obvious things. Or maybe he knew about it and wanted to punish you. Either way, you were screwed and was going to have to tell him, you were going to have to spell it out for him.

“Oliver’s father hasn’t really been in his life-”

“What a douchebag! You need me to find him and beat him to a pulp?” Dean interrupted, his hand finding yours to stop them wringing together.

“Dean, he doesn’t know. It was a one time thing and he didn’t really have the capacity to take care of a kid, he was scared that he couldn’t keep anyone safe. I wasn’t about to spring him with a kid that he probably didn’t want when I could take care of Ollie myself”

“Was it another hunter?”

“Dean Winchester, I swear. I will lose my shit if you don’t let me tell you on my own terms.”

“Sorry, I just care about you. You know that, right? I’d do anything for you and Oliver.”

Your nose tingled as tears came to your eyes, hearing him say those words meant the word to you. You wished you had someone like that in Oliver’s life and it was your own fault for not telling his father in the first place because you were a scared piece of shit and chickened out on making that one phone call that could have potentially saved any of this embarrassment.

“Remember that night that shapeshifter took out my leg,and we hid in Bobby’s cabin and you took care of me?” You tried to explain slowly, his eyes widening as soon as the cogs in his head turned into place, suddenly remembering how that fateful night had ended. You couldn’t help but be ashamed of yourself. How you had deprived the man, the man you considered a best friend, the truth. The tears fell but you wiped them as quick as they came, you were not the victim, Dean was. It was of course a shitty thing to do.

“So, Oliver’s mine?” Dean asked, wrapping his head around what you had implied. With your bottom lip between your teeth, you nodded solemnly. Dean’s tongue brushed over his teeth, sucking on them. “And you didn’t think to call me at least to tell me that I have a goddamn son? What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you that fucking selfish? What if I wanted to help out, be there for Oliver, for you? You really think I don’t have the goddamn capacity to take care of a kid - my kid?”

He was right, of course he was, you were selfish to keep his own son away from him. You were scared and that was still no excuse. You swallowed, sniffling and nodding your head. “I tell him about you, you know.”

“Tell him that he’s got a deadbeat father that doesn’t know he exists?” Dean scoffs, almost a choked out laugh. He was on the verge of tears but the anger ripped right through him; all he could see was red.

“Nope,” you stand from the edge of your bed, scratching at the side of your face. You rummage through your bookshelf and find the box that you had hidden up there. “Quite the opposite actually. Told him you were practically a superhero. I tell him that I used to be yours and Sam’s sidekick.”

You both chuckle at that, Dean more so just because he knows that you were pretty much the Batman when you were at the bunker and more often than not, you were there to save their asses.

“He doesn’t believe it about me being out there with you because I’m just his mommy but he knows that you’re out there protecting him.That kid’s mind is like a sponge; he takes in all the information you tell him and-” You choked out, hiding it as a faux cough. “He’s smart, he definitely gets that from you. I didn’t want you to find out like this. I wanted to tell you before but I just got scared. I want you to be it Oliver’s life, even if that means you’re not in mine. This is all your decision.”

With that, you left the box on the bed,waiting a few seconds before you tapped him on his thigh, letting him ponder your words as you leave the room and head downstairs to where Oliver and his uncle is. You would have to tell him too.

Fuck.

“You havin’ fun there baby?” You ask Oliver, already knowing the answer as Sam throws him up into the air, catching him as soon as he falls back down. Almost a heart attack? Check. But the feeling all but dissipated when you hear his loud laughter.

“Yeah,” he laughs maniacally this time, it’s contagious and you can’t stop your own laugh. It was then that you knew the answer. Oliver was having the time of his life. At least he was bonding with his uncle Sammy already, babbling over and over about how he wanted to go again and higher this time.

“Ollie, you wanna go show Dean your dinosaur bed sheets? He’s upstairs in mommy’s room.” Sam handed him over to you and you lifted Oliver over the stair gate, watching as he toddled his way up the stairs safely. “You want a coffee? I’m sure you and Dean had a long drive.”

“Thank you,” he nods, following you into the kitchen. “So, I’m guessing you told him.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you gave him a lost expression. “What are you t-”

Sam raises an eyebrow, lips pursed before he interrupts you. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t play dumb with me. You know what I’m talking about. Oliver looks exactly like a miniature Dean with a perfect mix of each of your skin tones. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out either. We last saw you about three years ago and Oliver is two. Besides I heard the two of you before you left. It was gross so I slept in the car.”

“I guess, it’s pointless to say that you’re an uncle now, huh?” You scratch at your arm before grabbing the coffee pot and pouring him out a cup. “Sugar’s in the cupboard in the corner and creamer in the fridge, you know, if you changed your preferences from the last time I saw you.”

“The shouting upstairs kinda gave it away, made sure to play with Oliver to distract him.” You were thankful to have Sam, he was a good egg.

“I am sorry you had to find this way. I wanted to tell you but I didn’t want for us to become a liability. You were better off saving the world whilst I could protect me and Ollie. I didn’t want to be a burden to the two of you, especially when you had already looked after me, when we were young and stupid and I didn’t wanna listen to the two of you. I wanted to be the one to kick the shit out of you guys for lying about what goes bump in the night but the vamps beat me to it so I had to believe that the shit was real.”

“You shouldn’t swear, Oliver could pick up all the bad words you’re spewin’.” Dean says as he enters the kitchen, hand in hand with his son. “There better be enough coffee for me in that pot over there.”

You nod, making him one before you grab yourself an energy breakfast bar from the fridge. “You boys had breakfast?”

You made it to the small cafe, giving your friend a small wave as you entered with Oliver, Sam and Dean close behind you. Liah was quick to round the corner and say hello to her friend and her favourite little guy. The tall dudes that came behind her were just a bonus package to brighten her day.

“Hiya, sweetie.” She came in for a hug, squeezing you before she ruffled Oliver’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “How are my favourite customers?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you.I feel like it’s been forever.”

“It’s been two months, Y/N. Of course it’s been forever but I’ve been busy with Eric and college.” She huffed and you told her that she didn’t have to say another word. You know how hard she worked. It was hard to balance work and college but you knew that Eric was good for her; he was keeping her on the right track, making sure that she slept, ate, took breaks from her studies. He really cared about her. “Take a seat with those fine ass men and I will take your order after I get some tips from that old geezer over there.”

She left, her notebook shoved into her apron as skipped over to the other side of the quiet diner.

“After you, find a booth anywhere you want, you’re my guests.” You said, waiting for the boys to find a table for the four of you.

“I really hope you’re paying because everything looks so good on this menu.” Dean groaned, overlooking the menu, you had to agree, they did cook some amazing things and you came in so much they made a secret menu item just for you.

“I’m paying but anything over two plates, you pay for yourself. I’m not made of money.”

Dean nodded, smiling when he noticed Liah come back with her pen and pad. “Am I getting you the Y/N special?”

“You know it, baby. Can you get Oliver some eggs and a little bit of bacon?”

“Sure thing. And for you boys?” Liah quickly scribbled down your order and waited for the boys to make up their mind.

Sam tucks his curtain of hair behind his ear. “Would it be okay to get a chicken salad with an egg white omelette on the side?”

Liah hummed, “any drinks with that?”

“Coffee, please.”

“And for you?” Dean is next on Liah’s list.

“Here we go, a stack of pancakes to start me off and then a plate of your greasiest breakfast foods you have.”

“Coming right up, you want a coffee too?”

Dean nods, thanking Liah as she walks away putting in your order, he’s almost certain that she’s spoken the words ‘baby daddy’ but he’s not too sure, his ear may have deceived him.

Liah comes out no later than 10 minutes, you know that everything is freshly cooked so you’re not worried about the wait. It gave you some moments with your favourite men, quietly catching up on the time that you lost with them, you never got tired of hearing their stories; even if it was their lives, you still loved that they were here to tell the tale.

You tucked into your food, watching over your family as they ate. Oliver inhaled his food almost as soon as it was set down on the table, you looked over at Dean and he had finished all but one of his pancakes. Like father, like son. You should have known really. All those years you spent with the Winchesters, all those annoying habits that got on your last goddamn nerve. But you still loved them - as much as you could.

“So I guess I’m finally meeting both of Oliver’s parents, right?” Liah whispers with a smile on her face, looking over your shoulder, making sure that you were out of earshot of the Winchesters and that Oliver was already preoccupied.

She was happy to meet Dean after all those times that you spoke of him. “Y/N’s told me a lot about you. All good things I promise, which is surprising because she talks a lot of shit about others. You must be really special to her.”

“He’s good people. One that protects others.” You look at Dean sincerely, catching his lips curl up into a smile before he watched Oliver play with his toy dinosaurs. “Sam’s not too bad either. Now go do your job before you almost get fired...again.”

After your meal, before you even have the chance to reach into your pocket, Dean takes the bill and pays for it all and by the smile on Liah’s face, you know that he left a tip. The four of you were back on your way to the place you called a home.

“So why Oliver? The name I mean.” Dean asks later that evening as Oliver watches his favourite show.

“Named him after my favourite superhero, duh.”

“Please don’t tell me his middle name is Arthur after Arthur Curry.” He groaned, almost whined. He hated Aquaman with a vengeance, a fish man that controls water.

“No Dean, you don’t have to worry about your son being called Oliver Arthur. He’s Oliver Dean, after my other hero.” You whisper, leaning back in your seat and staring into those gorgeous green eyes of his.

“The one who has saved my life countless times. The one who I should have told about his son. You’re the one who I loved Dean, the one who gave me the best gift of all even without knowing it.”

Dean doesn’t say anything. He can’t. Not with the tears gathering in his eyes, the ones matching yours. You’ve missed him. Missed the way the two of you would joke around. Missed the way that he would flirt with you. Missed the way that you could sit in complete silence, letting yourself bask in each other's company without ever being bored or would never be uncomfortable. But right now all you wanted to do was kiss him. You wanted him in your life but you couldn’t until you were sure that he wanted to be in Oliver’s life. That he wanted to be in your life.

“I loved you too.” His voice is small, almost unheard but you’ve trained your ears for any noise ever since Oliver was born. He licked at his lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before he whispered again. “I still love you, Y/N.”

His eyes drop to your lips before they drag away seeing Oliver asleep and Sam had already retired to the guest room upstairs. He’s slow, so slow, in fact, that you almost don’t see his movement but you know that he is when you feel his breath on your face. You know he’s there when his palm softly connects with your cheek. You know he’s there when he presses his forehead against yours. You missed his musky smell and you can’t help but press your lips against his.They’re familiar. One’s that you haven’t had the chance to remove from your memory. You didn’t really want to either.

Hands finding their way to Dean’s shoulders, you crawled into his lap, deepening the kiss. You wanted this, you wanted it from the moment you left three years ago but you pulled back. “I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have done that. You’re mad at me and I should have asked.”

You make a move to get off of his lap but he stops you. “Don’t stop. I’m not letting you go again. I’m not losing my family.”

FEEDBACK IS GOLD AND ALWAYS APPRECIATED

Forevers: @super100012 @lupine-princess @plaid-lover-bay25 @atc74 @growningupgeek @sophiebobzz @docharleythegeekqueen @poukothenerd @grace-for-sale @mrswhozeewhatsis @jesspfly @supernaturallymarvellous @sammysgirl1997 @roxyspearing @mogaruke @be-amaziing @deanandsamsbitch @frankiea1998 @hennessy0274-blog @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @iwantthedean @capsheadquaters @emoryhemsworth @notmoose45 @essie1876 @cassieraider @brewsthespirit-blog @its-my-perky-nipples @riversong-sam @jotink78 @captainradicalpassion @jadalecki-jackles @spnbaby-67 @holyfuckloueh @gh0stgurl @alyssa6marie @esoltis280 @bumber-car-s @alexwinchester23 @x-waywardaf-x @thisismysecrethappyplace @randomparanoid @kellianz

Dean: @kenmen02 @ain-t-bovvered @deans-baby-momma @ericaprice2008 @shamelesslydean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @wingedcatninja @mayasmedberg @kurosaki224-new-blog @valerieshubin @milo-winchester-4ever @sandlee44 @ruprecht0420 @akshi8278 @smoothdogsgirl @dslocum89 @plaidstiel-wormstache @ria132love @welldonebeca @iamabeautifulperson18 @starry-chaos @deans-treasure @larajadeschmidt13 @nyxveracity @dean-winchesters-bacon @adoptdontshoppets

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wanderinginksplot · 4 years ago

Text

Clone Trooper Rambles

Sometimes, the clone troopers who live in my head get a kick out of everyday life on Earth. Read other parts here.

Gift

“It took me a while to find this, but I think it will be worth it,” my roommate Elena told me, handing over a medium-sized box. It was perfectly wrapped, as always. Elena was the goddess of wrapping paper while I chose to rule over my small sister kingdoms of bags and tissue paper.

“I’m sure it will be great, whatever it is,” I agreed. “Should I open this now or wait until everyone else has a present to open, too?”

“Open it now!” she said excitedly. “I can’t wait for anyone else.”

“Okay, fine,” I said with a smile at her energy. I peeled back the precisely-wrapped paper with ease - much better than my own family, who seemed to believe that a full layer of tape was the only way to keep wrapping paper attached - and started laughing immediately.

“Isn’t it great?” Elena burst out, laughing just as hard as I was.

“It’s fantastic!” I admitted, running a finger over the shrink-wrap covering the figurine of Commander Wolffe. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Oh…” Hardcase said gleefully, sitting directly beside me. “The commander is going to hate that.”

“Wouldn’t you hate it if that were you?” Fixer asked logically, glancing over from his spot overseeing the gift distribution process.

“Uh, no? These tattoos should be immortalized in a tiny version,” replied Hardcase, whose talent had never been logic. “But the commander is going to do more than hate it. He’s going to do his best to break the kriffing thing.”

“What is the commander going to hate?” Commander Fox asked, stepping inside with Rex. They had been doing what they insisted was a routine perimeter check. He directed his next statement to me: “And I assure you that I don’t intend to break anything.”

“You’re not the one we’re worried about,” I told him, my answer affirmed by both Hardcase and Fixer.

“What is it, though?” Rex asked, coming closer.

I could tell the moment he saw the figure and processed what it was because the emotions flew rapid-fire across his unhelmeted face: curiosity, amusement, foreboding, scorn, and a wry sort of humor.

When he finally spoke, Rex only said, “The commander really is going to hate that.”

“Gentlemen, I think we’re overlooking the most crucial part of this situation,” Fox said crisply, tucking his hands neatly behind his back and spoiling the effect with a grin. “Do we tell him about this or let him see it for himself?”

“I want to tell him!” Hardcase volunteered immediately.

“I think he should see it himself,” Rex countered.

“But how would we stop members of the Wolfpack from telling him?” Fixer asked wisely. “Sinker might see the humor in keeping the secret, but Boost and Comet would tell the commander right away.”

“What if we just didn’t schedule them guard duty?” Fox suggested.

I grimaced as subtly as I could to avoid the suspicion of other corporeal people in the room. “Probably a bad idea. Members of each group tend to be involved every two days or so, and no one from the Wolfpack was here yesterday either. Too many more days without guarding and I think they’ll start wondering what’s up.”

“What if we just had Commander Wolffe do guard duty tomorrow night before anyone can tell him?” Hardcase asked.

“...Did Hardcase just come up with a solid and feasible idea?” Rex spoke wearing a confused frown

“Yes, sir,” Fixer told him, looking equally as befuddled.

“We need to swear that no one is going to tell the commander,” Hardcase insisted, ignoring them all. “Everyone swear.”

Each trooper did. Fox made his vow solemnly, Rex did so with amusement painted across his face, Fixer seemed to think the whole thing was silly, and Hardcase took it more seriously than anyone had seen him do with anything before.

“What about her?” Fixer asked, nodding in my direction.

“Hmm?” I asked absently. Without waiting for an answer, I turned the now-unwrapped figure from side to side. “Do you see this? His dual blaster pistols actually fit in his holsters! This is amazing!”

“She’s not going to tell anyone,” Rex promised Fixer, which was a great deal of trust from someone who had just rolled his eyes at me, but I wasn’t going to question it. This was Christmas, after all.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

#Clone Trooper Rambles #star wars the clone wars #republic commando #clone trooper hardcase #republic commando fixer #commander fox #captain rex #Commander Wolffe #mentioned #figurine #toy #too much fun #presents #gifts #clone troopers deserve better #not crazy just creative #more to come

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kyubicled · 4 years ago

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< [INDEX] >

"The War of Three Kings--known as the Dragon-Hunt to the North, Robert's Rebellion to the supporters of the Baratheon regime, or the War of the Usurper to Targaryen loyalists--was not directly instigated by a single occurrence or action. Rather, it was what many saw as an inevitable conclusion began at the Field of Thunder, where King Torrhen the Defiant and the legendary Spartan defeated Aegon, showing the whole of Westeros how even the might of the dragonlords were rendered meek by the otherworldly might of the Forward Unto Dawn. It was not apparent during those first years, when Aegon sat the Iron Throne. Indeed, though many had thought the sudden and crushing halt of the Dragon's advance would give rise to rebellion and sedition from his conquered territories of the Southern kingdoms, Aegon's reign on the Iron Throne was astoundingly peaceful. It is widely believed by scholars that it was indeed fear that kept the South in line, as many believed that disunity among the Andal kingdoms could very well render them vulnerable to invasion and subsequent conquest at the hands of the reinvigorated and undoubtedly mighty North. Rather than risk being made prey to the triumphant Direwolf, the lords of the South instead pledged their fealty to the wounded Dragon, though it's three heads had now only one still living. It is also likely inferred that Aegon himself was shielded by the presence of his new Northern queen, Wylanna Stark, the daughter of King Torrhen, whose hand sealed the Pact of Ice and Fire after Aegon's prior defeat. While their marriage proved to be fruitful, and even inferred to have eventually become a happy one, trouble would begin shortly after Aegon's death, the first in a long list of grievances between House Targaryen and House Stark.

While Aegon himself had decreed his son by Rhaenys, Aenys, would inherit the throne after him, there was considerable tension in the court over the matter, particularly due to the controversy caused by Aegon's issue. The Faith had viewed Aegon's marriage to his sister-wives as a blasphemy only begrudgingly tolerated due to the sheer might Aegon wielded, and therefore considered his issue by them, the future kings Aenys I and Maegor I, as less legitimate to the throne as Aegon's issue by Queen Wylanna; despite the fact she herself was detested by them due to her staunch faith in the Old Gods of the North, which she had passed on to her children. To further complicate things, her only son, Prince Jon, was seen as the ablest of all Aegon's heirs; although known to be stern and humorless, he was nevertheless seen as a balance between the genial but indecisive Aenys and the powerful but brutal Maegor. To the relief of the realm, Prince Jon himself held no public interest in pursuing the throne. He chose instead to support his half-brother's claim, publicly bending the knee and swearing fealty to Aenys in a display of great humility and subservience--a decision likely due in no small part due to the known friendship between them.

Unfortunately, Aenys, while gentle in rule and a patron of the arts, proved to be a less than able ruler, indecisive and hesitant for fear of offending. This left him incapable of stopping the enmity between Jon and Maegor, which only worsened over time. When the Faith Militant Uprising began, and Aenys suddenly died of cramps, Jon hastened to quell the dissent sown by the Faith Militant, leaving the capitol with a small host, but in his haste did not give pause to be appointed an office of regency over Aenys' heirs. This Maegor exploited when he unexpectedly returned from the Free Cities with an army of his own, quickly seizing control of King's Landing and declaring himself the rightful heir of Aegon, seizing the Iron Throne in direct opposition to the laws of succession, which stated that Aenys' son, Aegon, should inherit the throne. When Grand Maester Gawen protested this, Maegor beheaded him with the Valyrian sword Blackfyre, and held the royal family hostage. When Queen Wylenna refused to acknowledge Maegor as anything but a usurper, Maegor had Balerion the Black Dread bathe her in dragonflame, before swallowing her whole.

Outraged and mad with grief at the news of his mother's death, Prince Jon immediately declared for Aenys' son, Aegon, and called upon the lords of Westeros to war against Maegor's usurpation of the throne. His maternal uncle, King Rodrik Stark, immediately declared war against Maegor as well, vowing to not rest until House Stark's Valyrian sword, Ice, had run through Maegor's blackened heart, and his sister's death had been avenged. Thus began the Second War of Ice and Fire. When Maegor challenged any who opposed his rule to fight him, Jon immediately answered, challenging Maegor to a Trial of Seven, and was joined by Ser Damon Morrigen as well as five champions of the Faith to battle Maegor and six of his Kingsguard. In the ensuing melee, Jon and Maegor both immediately sought each other out, their long-standing enmity climaxing in a brutal, raging clash of blades between them. It was only when Blackfyre shattered Prince Jon's sword and clove him near in two that the White Dragon fell, but not before he dealt terrible wounds upon the Red Tyrant. Maegor alone survived the Trial, falling into a coma after the last blow was dealt, and woke only just in time to learn that, as it is said in the North, Winter was Coming.

King Rodrik raised an army of forty-thousand Northmen to march south of the Neck, and was joined by Prince Aegon with forces loyal to his cause. Maegor, meanwhile, mustered the royal army and marched north to meet him, each king intent on finishing his father's work of crushing the opposing side once and for all. The Dragon and the Wolf would run the rivers of the South red with the clash of their armies, and the years of fighting between them would be remembered as the Red Winter. While the Northmen had superior warriors, armaments, and tactics, and Aegon possessed the dragon Quicksilver, their supplies were stretched thin from the long march, and the Northerners did not have the vaunted might of the Spartan as they had when King Torrhen had led them, allegedly because the Spartan refused to stir from his timeless slumber for a war that was, ultimately, a squabble of houses fighting for the throne. Maegor's host, meanwhile, had greater numbers and a knowledge of the terrain, as well as supplies that could more readily be replenished from the surrounding countryside. While Rodrik and Aegon won many victories against Maegor's forces at first, their allied forces became weaker and weaker with each engagement, until Maegor ultimately defeated them at the Battle of Darry, where Quicksilver was slain with wildfire, killing Aegon with him. The Tyrant Dragon and the Wild Wolf met in personal combat as the battle raged around them, Rodrick wielding Ice and Maegor Blackfyre. Maegor, tormented by the wounds the late Jon had prior inflicted upon him, could not match the Stark King's ferocity, and would have perished there had his men not riddled Rodrick with crossbow bolts, killing the King in the North even as he held Ice aloft to deal the killing blow. With their sovereign dead, the Northmen retreated back to the North, utterly defeated.

Maegor, arrogant and bloodthirsty in his triumph, then declared he would finish his father's work and take the North, vowing to raze Winterfell to the ground and snuff out House Stark. And many believed he would, for his victory over the Starks had seemed so complete that his army could likely march unopposed at the very place his father had been defeated. But, much like his father, his arrogance would be his undoing. For in his pride and in his cruelty, and in his intent to see the North burn, and the Faith bent to it's knees, he awoke that sleeping giant that he had overlooked--that enigmatic warrior whom he believed would not oppose him. King Rodrik's young son, the newly crowned King Benjen, came in tears to the Forward Unto Dawn at the news of his father's death and their army's crushing defeat. The boy, no older than ten, pleaded that the Spartan rise to defend them, for all other hope had seemed to die in that dread hour. Many thought the boy king craven for doing so... until he reemerged with the Spartan and his companion, the Maiden of Light, at his side. The cries of a humbled and frightened child had triumphed where the pride and strength of a great warrior had failed, and the North rejoiced, their once-shattered morale rekindled by the return of their savior. Instead of rallying the remnants of the Stark forces under his banner, though, the Spartan insisted they be disbanded and sent home, solemnly stating he himself would suffice to end the tyranny of Maegor.

As Maegor marched northward, he and his army found Moat Cailin guarded by a lone warden--the Spartan himself, wielding the legendary Hammer of the Smith, and the fabled thunder weapon called 'Sniper Rifle'. Maegor, in hopes of restoring Balerion the Black Dread from his crippled state and into his former glory to face the Warrior Made Flesh, had allegedly used the blood of his own kin and the burnt body of Quicksilver in some dark sorcery. Regardless of the veracity of such reports, it was known that on that day, Maegor did indeed mount Balerion one more, the first time the great dragon had been ridden since it's defeat at the hands of the very enemy Maegor now intended to face.

But what followed was not the final triumph of the Tyrant King over the champion of the North. What followed was a duel immortalized in song, chronicle, and shows alike. Taking his thunder weapon in hand, he shot two deafening blows to the Black Dread's wings, forcing the monstrous beast to remain aground. Then, lifting his great war hammer, the Spartan did battle with the Black Dread, his weapon landing thunderous, crashing blows into the great dragon. Balerion's flames, black as night and hot enough to melt steel, failed to so much as singe the Spartan's legendary armor, his spear-like claws, sword-like fangs, and battering ram-esqe tail all too slow and lumbering to land a single blow against the Master Chief's otherworldly speed--Just as it had failed to do so to his great war machines so many year before. After felling many terrible strikes against the dreaded wyrm's body, the Immortal Last Hero landed one last, terrible blow into the drake's spine-crowned skull, felling the Black Dread one and for all. Maegor, still somehow whole, charged him in madness and fury, holding Blackfyre aloft--only to be casually hurdled through the air with a single fell blow from the Spartan's gauntleted fist, obliterating his skull in an instant. So ended the reign of Mageor the Cruel--or perchance, the Fool, as the Northmen still mockingly call him--a reign filled with blood, terror, and tyranny.

Following the death of Maegor, the Spartan made his way south, where he was justly received as a liberating hero by the whole of the realm for ending the terrible rule of the Tyrant Dragon. The smallfolk and the Faith rallied behind him and many shouted him to be named king. But in yet another astounding move, the Spartan and the Maiden of Light both instead helped to ensure that King Aenys' last living son, the future King Jaeherys I, was received his rightful place on the throne. They only remained long enough to help the young ruler secure peace for the whole of the realm, with the Luminous Lady leaving instructions of guidance for him to follow in his duties as king, before they both returned to the North, and back into their deathless sleep.

King Jaeherys was quick to restore relations with the Starks and the Faith, and would be remembered as perhaps the greatest ruler of the Targaryen dynasty, and together with King Brandon, helped to rebuild Westeros from the years of bloodshed of Maegor's reign, and bringing about a golden age of peace and prosperity for the whole continent. His own rule would be heavily influenced by the writings the Aglow lady left for him, helping to institute great reforms and innovations across the breadth of his domain."

--Maester Benjamyn, A History of House Stark and the Spartan, Volume II

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pinknerdpanda · 5 years ago

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Quarantined

Word Count: 1,368

Characters: Bucky x Reader (kinda), Steve, Sam

Warnings: Fluff, Quarantine shopping, Petulant!Bucky, Bickering Sam and Bucky, Exasperated!Steve, language (obvi)

SSB Square Filled: “I’ve Knocked Out Adolf Hitler over 200 times.” (bolded below)

Requested by: @princessmisery666: “Drabble request - Steve, Sam and Bucky shopping for quarantine supplies!! Let the games (arguments) begin 😘.”

Beta: @shy-violet-soul - you are da bomb dot come, Vy. I loves you!

A/N: I loved this request. I feel like we could all use a little levity given the current circumstances. This is the first time I’ve written Sam or Steve, and only my second time writing Bucky. I hope this makes you smile. Feedback is greatly appreciated! If you’d like to request a drabble (which will decidedly not be a drabble because, words) - see this post.

Quarantined

“Infiltrate, extract and then get the hell out of there.” Steve’s voice was stern as he continued. “Everyone clear?”

The trio before him nodded solemnly, all of them feeling the dregs of weariness creeping in before the mission even began.

“Any questions?”

Bucky squinted at a small scrap of paper clenched in one hand as he raised the other. Steve sighed, but nodded at his friend.

“What the hell is a ‘Clorox wipe’ and why do we need so goddamn many of them?”

Sam choked on a laugh, earning him a terse glare from the former assassin.

“What’s so funny, Big Bird?” Bucky grumbled.

Grinning, Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder, his palm stinging slightly from the contact with the metal.

“Man, sometimes I forget just how damn old you are. But then you come in here with all that,” Sam waved a hand in front of a scowling Bucky and continued. “And it all comes rushing back.”

Steve groaned as Bucky launched into a diatribe of curses and insults aimed at Sam. Y/n shot Steve a sympathetic look before a particular string of four letter words made her clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling.

“Alright, enough. We don’t have time for this. I know this isn’t our usual job, but given the current situation, we don’t exactly have a choice. We are the ones imposing on y/n and she wasn't exactly prepared for us to be staying with her during a quarantine."

Their first reaction to the social distancing mandate had been fraught with eyerolls and grunts of protest. Yes, the serum made Bucky and Steve immune to the virus, but there was no way to know if they could still be carriers. And then there were Sam and y/n who did not have the benefit of super immunity. In the end, they'd all decided it would be best to comply if for no other reason than to be an example to the public. If Captain friggin America was doing his part to stop the spread of the disease, then everyone else should to.

"We should pair off," Steve began. "Bucky - "

"I call dibs on y/n!" Bucky shouted, cutting him off.

"Dibs? Really, Tin Man?" Sam groaned, exasperated.

"Yes, dibs. It's better than having to look at your ugly mugs for the next however-long-this-shit-takes. It's bad enough I have to be stuck in a house with a friggin pigeon -" Bucky jabbed a finger in Sam's direction before aiming it at Steve, “and Mr. ‘I’ve Knocked Out Adolf Hitler over 200 times’ until this thing blows over."

Sam and Steve opened their mouths to protest, but y/n cleared her throat, drawing the gaze of three pairs of guilty eyes.

“Alright, children. If you’re finished, can we please get this over with? Bucky, I’m overlooking the fact that you called ‘dibs’ on me like I’m some kind of possession, solely because I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you and Sam pair up. You two are the actual worst when you’re together.” Y/n plucked the list from Bucky’s fist and a disinfectant wipe from the container beside the door before wiping down the cart and heading inside without sparing another look in his direction.

Bucky sighed. “I swear I’m gonna marry that girl some day.”

“Bold of you to assume she’s into geriatrics with scrambled brains,” Sam groused.

Bucky flipped him off, metal finger gleaming in the sunlight before hurrying inside after her.

-----

“This place is amazing!” Bucky marvelled, gazing up at the towering shelves and running his hand over a 50 pound bag of rice. “Whoa! Look at how huge this is!”

Y/n looked up from her list just in time to see him dump a gallon of ketchup into the cart.

“We do not need that much ketchup, Buck. We have a list. We need to stick to the list.”

Bucky frowned, removing the ketchup and placing it back on the shelf. “You’re no fun, sweetheart.”

Ignoring his whining, y/n proceeded down the aisle in search of the next item on her list: peanut butter. As she perused the options before here, Bucky's attention was drawn to something else.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed.

Y/n turned to find her companion gazing longingly at a five pound bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips. She sighed as he directed a pleading look at her. The man was the former Fist of Hydra; a goddamned ghost story until a few years prior. And here he was, in the middle of Sam's club silently begging her for chocolate like a three year old child.

She sighed again. "Go ahead."

Bucky's eyes went wide with excitement as he scooped up two bags and all but flung them into the shopping cart.

"Bucky we do not need 10 pounds of chocolate chips. Put one of them back."

He frowned. "But y/n…"

Holding her hand up, she cut him off. "No buts, James Barnes. Put. One. Back."

Bucky regarded her for a second, his mouth puckered to one side as he chewed the inside of his cheek. She met his petulant stare with one of her own as an elderly couple maneuvered their cart around them. Bucky groaned, stomping his foot and snatching a bag from the cart and tossing it back on the shelf.

"Come on, you big baby. Let's get this over with," she chuckled, tipping her head toward the next aisle.

Falling in step behind her, Bucky grumbled under his breath. "I bet this place doesn't even have any plums."

-----

Thirty minutes and two full shopping carts later, the teams reconvened at the front of the store. Steve's usually tidy hair fell haphazardly over his forehead as though he'd been running his finger through it repeatedly. Sam crossed his arms smugly and leveled Bucky with a teasing glare.

"How'd you do old man?" Sam beamed. "You didn't forget the prunes, did you? You're looking like they could come in handy right about now."

Bucky ground his teeth together, only suppressing a searing reply because he felt y/n squeeze his arm in warning. He raked his gaze over Sam and Steve's cart and balked.

"How come Sam gets a giant box of fruit snacks?" Bucky growls, starting at Steve accusingly.

Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes closed. "Dammit, Sam. I told you no fruit snacks."

Sam shrugged, unrepentant. Y/n grimaced, shaking her head sympathetically at the exasperated Captain.

"If Sam gets fruit snacks, I'm getting that gallon of ketchup." Bucky flung his arm behind him, vaguely gesturing toward the condiment aisle.

Y/n jabbed a frustrated finger into his chest, lifting her chin to look him in the eyes, fury darkening her features.

"You have no idea how tempting it is to leave you here." She emphasized each of her words with a corresponding jab to his pectorals.

Behind her Sam snickered and she whirled on him "You too, Bird Man. Look at what you've done to him." She pointed at Steve, his shoulders slumped and his face drawn. "He's supposed to be your friend, you idjits. And now look at him!"

Sam looked at the floor and Bucky scuffed the toe of his boot against the worn tile beneath him.

"Apologize and then Steve and I are leaving you two to check out while we go get pizza and ice cream at the cafe. Frankly we deserve it for having to put up with you two today."

Steve perked up a little at her words. Sam and Bucky shared a look but y/n ignored it and tapped her foot impatiently.

The two men mumbled a half-hearted apology and y/n smiled, satisfied.

"Come on Cap," she tucked her arm in his and began leading him away. "My treat."

Sam and Bucky gaped at the pair's retreating backs. Bucky sighed.

"I think I'm in love, Sam."

Sam chuckled, gripping the handle of one cart as Bucky took the other. Taking their spot in line, the men stood in silence until Bucky cleared his throat.

"Sam?"

Sam hummed in response.

"She called us 'idjits'. What the hell does that mean?"

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

My Forever Tags - Stay weird. I love y’all: @wheresthekillswitch @pretty-fortune @arryn-nyxx @emlostinwonderland @becs-bunker @cookie-dough-lova @impandagrl @maddieburcham1 @beachballsizeladyballs @hannahindie @rosie-winchester @winchesterprincessbride @that-writer-one @fandomismyspirit @angelsandwinchesters @cfordwrites @charliebradbury1104 @mogaruke @luulaachops @supernaturaldean67 @barbedwireandbubblegum @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @muliermalefici @galaxy-jellyfish-queen @canadianjelly @kathaswings @feelmyroarrrr @bethbabybaby @myfanficlibrarium @akshi8278 @emoryhemsworth @boxywrites @anticipate1003 @super100012 @lovesj2m @masksandtruths @ellen-reincarnated1967 @growningupgeek @there-must-be-a-lock @mrswhozeewhatsis @amanda-teaches @cassieraider @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @its-my-perky-nipples @squirrel-moose-winchester @sandlee44 @paintrider13-blog @arses21434 @petra-arkanian-1497 @sasbb23 @princessmisery666 @defenderrosetyler

MCU Only: @arrowsandmixtapes @jamielea81

***If you want to to be removed from my forever tags or just want to be tagged in either MCU or SPN just let me know***

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #MCU fanfic #panda writes

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missdawnandherdusk · 5 years ago

Text

Rita Skeeter’s Scoop

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Part 13 Part 14

Summary: All is fair in love and war, but why did it have to be a war? And when did you say that you wanted to fight?

Archive of Our Own Link

A/n: Hello my darlings! Welcome to the next part and honestly it took me a while to figure out where I wanted to take this, so please enjoy the angsty fluff of this chapter and I’m happy to introduce Susan! (you’ll understand later). I love you guys so much you have no idea, please don’t stop commenting, reblogging and liking, you have no idea how much it excites me and motivates me to keep writing. ALSO GUYS TOM FELTON IS GOING TO BE AT THE COMICON NEAR ME AND YOU BET YOUR GALLEONS THAT I AM DROPPING COLLEGE MONEY TO GO AND MEET THAT MAN

............................

BLOOD FEUD GONE HAYWIRE AT HOGWARTS?

By Rita Skeeter

“Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial visitor decisions, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Over the summer of this year it was decided that the Triwizard Tournament was to be held at Hogwarts to many parents’ dismay as their children were entered into the Tournament without their permission. The Tournament is notorious for the fatalities that it has inflicted among many young unexperienced wizards thirsting for glory. However, this looks responsible and kindly when set beside the fiasco Dumbledore claims to be the Yule Ball.

The Yule Ball, only held upon the year of the Triwizard Tournament, was held upon the Christmas holiday at the school endorsed by Dumbledore and his staff. This year, however, the guest list was not so carefully taken to, endangering the students of three wizarding schools.

A young naïve and foolish fourth year Hogwarts student was taken under the Imperius Curse and forced to do the bidding of the assailant. It seems that this was in place because of a disgrace among pure-blood families. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, this disgrace has largely affected every student in the school along with its visitors claiming it’s “very shameful.”

“I was coerced as well, and my friend Draco Malfoy was only afraid of the blood traitor that he had to play along with her plan unless he too wanted to be cursed,” says Pansy Parkinson, another fourth-year student. “We all hate her, but we’re too afraid of her family to say anything,”

Y/n Lupine has no intention of ending this scourge of disgrace and intimidation, however. In conversation with her family, she admitted manipulating Mr. Malfoy in what she has dubbed the “Consentire Animi Pace,” an outdated excuse for coercion from a desperate lover. This bond, however, is overlooked by the Ministry, and they have not confirmed that there has been a case in over four hundred years. Lupine, however, considers herself to be above such petty notions.

The Consentire Animi Pace was an old tradition that has faded into prophecy and is a poor excuse for the forceful attitude from Lupine. Not but a few months prior to the Ball she and Mr. Malfoy blatantly hated another. “They were at each other’s throats,” Another student comments. “It was a peaceful day when they didn’t see each other,”

So how did these two, descendants of powerful pure-blood rivals go from enemies to lovers at a Ball in a matter of months? Some suspect the use of the Imperius Curse inflicted upon Malfoy by Lupine against his will. It is known that the students of Hogwarts were taught the Unforgivable Curses in class weeks before the two ‘lovers’ got together. The relationship of Lupine and Malfoy are frowned upon by Malfoy’s parents. “She is a filthy blood-traitor and has seduced my son into this relationship for her own personal gain. It is known that the Lupines always held a grudge against the Malfoys. This must be a new tactic for a new generation.””

.......................

My hands shook as I finished reading the article.

“Are you kidding me!?” I screeched. “Who... how does she even...” I exclaimed and threw the paper down, pacing the common room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s eyes on my frantic form.

“No one believes it,” Hermione clarified quickly. “Everyone here knows what really happened,”

“Do they?” I snapped. “Do they really?”

She looked down and I took a deep breath, rubbing my face. My thoughts spiraled. Everyone in the wizarding world would be reading this and apparently make me out to me some sort of whore of Babylon trying to seduce Draco to be with me.

“I... I have to find him,” I realized. “I...”

“Y/n, just think about this a moment,” Hermione interjected. “This Skeeter woman is out there, and as soon as she knows you ran to Draco after reading her piece, what is she going to think?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about what she thinks!” I screamed.

They all stared at me in shock and a few lingering first years scurried away—I never cursed, in front of anyone, ever.

“Y/n,” Harry began.

I narrowed my eyes at him letting him know he was on thin ice.

“Take my invisibility cloak and map. Go find him.” The olive branch startled me.

“What?”

“I know what it’s like to be talked about in papers.” He sympathized. “You don’t deserve this. Not after what you did, or rather didn’t do,”

I wanted to cry at his words.

“Thank you, Harry,” I got out, sinking back onto the sofa as he went up to his room to collect the promised items.

I went to pick up the article again, to reread it, but Hermione stopped me, taking it from my hands.

“You don’t need to reread it and get worked up again,” She chided softly.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” I whispered, glancing over at her.

“It’s alright. I’m just as furious as you are. That... cow of a woman.” Hermione shook her head. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this alright?”

I nodded and my eyes darted up as Harry came back, placing the map and cloak in my hands.

“You know how to work the map?” He clarified.

I nodded, fastening the cloak around my shoulders and taking out my wand.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” I muttered darkly, tapping the map, watching the paper come to life. “Thank you, Harry, he’d appreciate it too,”

“Just go,” He ushered, and I was off under the safety of the cloak led by the marauder’s map.

It didn’t take long for me to find Draco. His footsteps showed me that he was just outside of Snape’s office and heading my way. He probably went straight to Snape about the article and didn’t have the two cents from his friends about tact.

“Mischief managed,” I hissed before tucking the map into my robe.

Rushing down the chilly hallways, I hissed Draco’s name before grabbing his hand and pulling him under the cloak, quickly covering his mouth before he could scream in surprise or fear. He relaxed when his eyes landed on me. Nodding, I dropped my hand.

“Y/n, I swear I’ll fix this,” He hissed softly. “That Skeeter is going to regret ever messing with me and hurting you.”

“Draco, we don’t exactly have a lot of power here,” I argued. “With your father against us as well as this Skeeter, whatever we say, will be twisted and it’ll get worse.” That was the hopeless thought that dragged me down. “We really can’t fix this,”

“So, what do we do? I won’t let her do this to you or your family!” He insisted.

Shushing him, I took his hand and led him down the hallway to the Gryffindor Portrait. Unveiling myself from the cloak, I said the password and the portrait opened.

“Go,” I hissed softly, praying that Draco got the hint as I lingered about half a minute then hopefully followed him through the door, closing it behind me.

“I didn’t mean bring him here!” Harry huffed as I handed back his cloak and map.

“Sorry,” I gave a weak smile. “But I don’t feel safe talking about anything outside in the halls.”

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Hermione nearly shrieked. “What’s going to happen when Skeeter finds out that Draco’s been in here at night? What were you thinking!?”

Dread weighed like a thick blanket over me. I sank into a chair and stared at the fire, not seeing a way out of this.

“Lay off!” Draco scolded, kneeling beside me. “She can’t spend every moment questioning everything she does!” He defended me, taking my hand and rubbing it softly.

“I wasn’t saying that she should—” Hermione began and was silenced by a cold glare from Draco. I could almost hear the insults that he wanted to hurl at her, like they were tangible.

“It’s okay Dray,” I soothed. “She’s worried and looking out for me. They all are. Please... don’t fight. I can’t handle fighting right now,” My voice was shaky as fear played like a broken record in my mind.

I stood, Draco rising with me, his hands resting at my waist, an anchor in the midst of this hell storm. I laid my head on his shoulder as silent tears slipped out. Hermione was at my other side, rubbing my arm.

“We’ll sort this out Y/n,” Harry promised.

“I’m so stupid,” I mumbled. “This is all my fault,”

“This is not your fault,” Four voices joined together.

“It’s this wretched Skeeter woman,” Hermione hissed.

“And my father,” Draco snarled, his grip on me tightening.

I could feel the anger and betrayal radiating off of him. We hadn’t really talked about his father’s hand in all of this. I didn’t want to bring it up and he didn’t want to mention it, so it left us at an impasse. Maybe we should have talked about it sooner.

I wiped my tears away and took a deep breath.

“Okay, so what are we going to do?” I asked, turning to my group of friends.

“You could give her an interview,” Ron suggested.

“No, she couldn’t,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Whatever Y/n says is going to be used against her,”

“We can write to the paper, tell them that it’s wrong,” Harry pointed out.

“And how bad will that look on us?” I retorted. “New headline ‘Seductress tries to cover the truth.’ No, I don’t think... I don’t think there is anything we can do,”

“What?”

“I... I can’t do anything, we as a group can’t. All I can do is hold my head high and know who I am and what’s true,” I intertwined my fingers with Draco’s.

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze as impressed looks fell upon their faces.

“Well, I know that Skeeter is banned from school grounds, so just be careful I guess,” Ron chimed in.

I nodded and took a deep breath.

“You won’t be alone, Y/n,” Draco remarked. “I’ll be here, we all will,” His eyes swept the room. “We know who you are too,”

I nodded.

“And that’s all that matters,” I whispered weakly.

It was easier said than done, however. After taking Draco to his dorm under the cloak and heading back, curling up into bed, I finally broke down into tears, each of Rita’s words like a stab to the heart. It tore me up inside of how cruel she was to me, and I had never even met her. Hermione, if she heard my cries through my pillow, didn’t prattle me. Instead, she left me in peace to fall apart, and I was grateful.

The next morning, McGonagall called me to her office, to get the true story and to reinforce that I was not alone here at school, and if I needed anything to come to her and she would see that it was done. It took a lot for me not to break down in tears again in her office. With a biscuit she sent me off to breakfast.

Then the mail started to come in. From people I didn’t know and addresses I didn’t recognize. I didn’t dare to open any of them. Instead they were thrown into the fireplace without a second thought. The only letters I opened were from my mother or Mrs. Weasley, or anyone I knew well enough to care about what they thought. Most offered their sympathies. My mother was furious, as to be expected, but I wrote her back quickly before she did anything rash.

The fear always lingered, however. And with Pansy still miraculously walking the halls of Hogwarts, I felt smaller than ever. I hesitated to hold Draco’s hand or show any form of affection towards him. I know he didn’t hold it against me, but it was a new layer of guilt on my soul.

_____________________________

Draco gave you a week to find a new sort of normal and to stop moping—not that he’d tell you that’s what you were doing because you’d argue with him, but you were moping.

It was that Monday morning that he had enough. You were fine with doing nothing and taking all of the hate and living in fear, but he wasn’t. It killed him to see your flame so dull. He missed you, the real you. Not whatever front you were putting up.

So, after writing a very strongly worded letter to his father and mother alike, he took your hand on the way from breakfast and pulled you to the trail that led to Hogsmeade. You had said you weren’t going, but he wasn’t having that. You were his girlfriend and hell be damned if he wasn’t going to show you off.

“Draco, no,” Your voice wavered in fear. “I can’t.”

He turned and cradled your face in his hands.

“This fear needs to stop my love,” He crooned softly. “I miss you, the real you. I hate that she’s doing this to you. Please, go out with me. Let me show you off and buy you ridiculously expensive things and overpriced chocolates, that you won’t eat because you don’t like chocolate,” He amended quickly.

A smile played at your lips, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes yet.

“Please Y/n, I don’t want you to be afraid. I want you to be with me, I want to kiss you in public and have you on my arm. I want you to be my girl and I want everyone else to know that. I don’t give a damn about what the papers say. You’re mine and I love you and I’m not letting you mope anymore,” He panted softly, awaiting your response. “Please go out with me today,”

You blinked slowly, as if you were clearing away the haze in your eyes as you beamed up at him, jumping into his arms.

“I don’t want anything that expensive,” You muttered, and he laughed, the first time that he had a week. “Let me go get my jacket and what not and we’ll go,”

He waited for you outside the common room and you came out, wrapped in his scarf, the jacket and gloves from your mother and snow boots on that had to be new.

Offering his arm, he grinned as the two of you made your way down the hall cozied up together, smiles on the faces of those you passed.

“Long live the prince and princess!” George shouted as you two walked past him and Fred on your way to Hogsmeade.

A laugh escaped your lips for the first time since the article came out and it was the most wonderful thing that Draco had ever heard. You looked up at him, snow on your eyelashes, your nose and cheeks pink from the cold. You were beautiful when you smiled, and he would never take it for granted again.

______________________________

Draco and I ducked into Madam Puddifoot's tea shop and I welcomed the warmth with open arms. For the first time, the article faded from my mind and I allowed myself to be happy with Draco—even though he did order me a ridiculously expensive tea and so many little cakes. To be honest, they were the most enjoyable things I’d had in a long while.

The company was quite enjoyable as well. Now that I wasn’t... moping (I’ll admit it, I was) I realized what Draco had meant by missing the ‘real’ me. I could tease and taunt him, then go red when he’d take it a bit too far and make it slightly inappropriate, before kissing me softly as an apology.

We strolled about Hogsmeade, when my eyes lingered on a storefront for a bit too long, Draco would pull me inside and let me look around. I was cautious to pick things up however, in fear that he might actually take up on his words and buy me things.

However, I tripped up on my caution as a miniature Spindle Tree grew beautifully in Dogweed’s shop window, victim to a shrinking spell, but all the beautiful just the same. Draco rolled his eyes, smiling, dragging me inside, letting me cradle the small plant as he paid for it. The shop tender assured me that it would grow in any conditions and if I had any problems to bring it back.

“I think I’ll name her Susan,” I mused, holding the small pink plant to the sun. “What do you think?”

“You’re going to name it?” He laughed.

“Of course,” I grinned. “So... Susan?”

“Sure love,” He chuckled, wrapping an arm around me. “Whatever you want,”

Part 16?

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percabethfeelsfandom · 4 years ago

Text

Last Olympian rewrite from Annabeth’s perspective (part 3)

Part 1

Part 2

(Burning Percy’s shroud)

“It is said that Zeus built mortals with 4 arms and legs, and one head with two faces, but only one heart. These mortals were too powerful for Zeus’ liking so he tore them all apart and scattered the mortals around the world, leaving them with 2 arms and 2 legs, and only half a heart.

For the rest of their lives, mortals tried to find their other half to not only be complete but to ease the pain of only having half their heart. But because the world is so vast and mortals do not have forever. They don’t always find them. But. Those that do. Those people who find their other half are called soulmates, they are your equal in every way.

Percy was- is my soulmate. He was the bravest person I knew. And, and I think maybe with time, I would’ve been his soulmate too.” I took a deep breath and laid a hand down over his shroud, a beautiful blue-green his mother and I had chosen.

“I want to thank the Fates for bringing you into my life even if they’re also the ones who took you away from me.

Percy Jackson, I want to say thank you, for reminding me what a hero is, and the importance of mercy. But most of all I want to thank you for showing me what friendship was, true friendship...and love.” I closed my hands into fists to keep them from shaking but all it did was send pain up my arms, which I welcomed.

“Percy may have been the son of Poseidon but I don’t know how to breathe in a world without him.”

“I’m so sorry Seaweed Brain,” I choked on a sob and took another breath, wiping my tears away, “I will honour you. I remember our promise. And I will fulfil it. I swear on the river Styx.”

I turned to Chiron who stood by me solemnly and nodded.

I finally looked up from the shimmering embroidered trident and into the faces of the campers Percy and I had grown up with.

I had buried so many this past couple of days and hours. But we had saved Percy for last. His body was preserved by Hades.

Chiron handed me a torch and patted me on the shoulder as he did so.

Ash fell onto the ground as it shook in my hand.

“Hades watch over you on your journey to the underworld,” I whispered and I laid the torch on him. I held it for a moment before dropping it and fell to my knees sobbing.

Instantly arms were around me, Thalia’s spiky hair tickled my neck as she held me close.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” I shook my head and cried harder.

The flames began to pick up, heat pricking my skin, but I noticed something odd.

“The ocean,” I breathed.

“What?” Thalia asked, pulling away from me.

“He smells like the ocean.” We stared at the flames, the orange-red turning into a bright blue.

Thalia smiled sadly at me and tucked my hair back.

“That means he’s going back home.”

“His home is with me, here at camp,” I insisted. Thalia pulled me back to her and I tucked myself into her shoulder. Her own body shook as we held each other and I remembered her reaction when we’d gotten back from the bridge.

“Where’s Kelp for Brains?” Thalia asked, a playful smile on her lips.

“Thalia-” Malcolm cut in, putting an arm around me protectively. Thalia frowned and stared at me.

“Annabeth?”

“I couldn’t-”

“Annabeth where’s Percy?” I finally looked up at her tears streaming down my face.

“He’s dead.” Her entire body froze, and then all the lights in the room blew up.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I looked up and tried to smile as Grover came and sat by me, overlooking the lake.

“Thalia’s left,” I said.

“I know, I said bye to her already.”

I reached into my pocket and clasped my hand around the ballpoint pen that sat inside. It had appeared in my pocket minutes after my fight with Kronos, and I’d risked dropping it a couple of times to see what would happen. Each time it came back. I didn’t know what that meant for me.

“Hey, you don’t have to ever think or wonder what if Annabeth.”

“What do you mean?”

“You speech, about soulmates. It was always you. He loved you. He just didn’t know it yet,” Grover took a deep breath and smiled shaking his head as if remembering a memory, “I felt it, constantly, through the empathy link, that type of bond can’t be broken- even in death.”

I looked at him and felt a real smile on my face.

“Thanks, Grover,”

He nodded and wrapped an arm around me, and I leaned on his shoulder as we watched the sunset over the lake.

“It’s interesting I think, how at home you think in this cabin.”

I shot to my feet and looked to the sound of the voice.

Poseidon stood by the entrance, trident in hand and smiled at me as he stepped in.

“I mean no disrespect, I just-”

“It’s okay,” he said, waving me off.

I sat back down on Percy’s bed and stuffed Riptide back in my pocket.

“The sword is yours now, should you want it,” Poseidon said casually as he walked around the cabin, inspecting it like it was his first time seeing it.

“But it’s Percy’s,” I started.

“He gave it to you with his last breath. It returns back to your pocket. It is yours, Annabeth Chase.”

I uncapped the pen and Riptide sprung to life, the bronze glow illuminating the low light of the cabin.

“May I?” Poseidon asked, holding out his hand. His trident disappeared as I handed Riptide over. It seemed to glow brighter.

“When- When he died. And I was fighting Kronos’ army. I realised I was glowing,” I said as I watched him examine the blade and twirl it the way Percy did, “I was glowing blue.”

Poseidon handed me the blade again and I capped it, putting it back into my pocket.

“A blessing of sorts you could say. I couldn’t give you the power over water that Percy has, but I could give you a push for what you did have. And then some. Water is a mouldable element, and you could’ve taken my blessing and done whatever with it. The moment you realised what it was, you chose what you knew you needed,” Poseidon smiled again and placed a hand on the wall that held photos of Percy, Annabeth and Grover through the years.

“You chose Percy’s swordsmanship and skill. Not to say you aren’t talented with a sword, Miss Chase but-”

“No it’s okay, none taken...You’re right. I didn’t realise it at the time, but just- all I could focus on was the way he’d given it to me. I don’t think I deserve to wield his weapon.”

“He would be honoured knowing you have ownership.”

Poseidon came to Percy’s bed and opened a drawer and began shuffling things inside.

“Wait- what are you doing?” I asked, panicking. I hadn’t let anyone touch anything in his room yet, only Sally had been allowed to come in. I wanted to pretend just a bit longer that he was coming back.

“For you,” Poseidon said and dropped something red in my hand.

I frowned down at it and spun it in my hands.

“It’s a piece of coral from my palace, I haven’t the slightest idea when he found it, but I know it was for you, perhaps a gift for after the war. He used to stare at it before he slept every night.”

I looked up to him still confused.

“But how do you know?”

“I may not always be seen but I watched over Percy. My guilty indulgence, he is still my pride. And I will regret it for many years to come that he never knew just how much I did care for him.”

Poseidon held an old framed photo of younger me crossing my arms with beautiful architecture in the background. I smiled at the photo, remembering how Percy had put it on show purely to smite me.

“I think he knew,” I said and unclipped my camp necklace, stringing the coral onto it.

“I wish you well Annabeth Chase. Under different circumstances in another world, I would’ve been proud to call you my daughter.”

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