#I refuse to know anything substantial so I fear this is all I have about it but tris is SWEATING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

so-long-soldier-writes · 3 months ago

Text

Make Me Believe It

kai parker x bonnie bennett | requested

summary: bonnie rolls her eyes every time her grams talks of magic. no matter what the older woman says, she refuses to believe it. it isn't until she's shown magic that she starts to reconsider, thanks to one kai parker, and his particular way of getting her attention.

tags: high school au (seniors / both 18), cheerleader & popular girl bonnie, quiet kid kai; starts off mildly dubious, inappropriate behavior, eventual smut, consensual sex, library sex, magic, siphoning, light petting, oral sex, fingering

word count: 7.6k

a/n: this has taken me freaking forever and i'm so sorry!! i hope you like it, i followed the request as closely as i could!!

a/n (2): title from "the magic" by lola blanc :)

“Everybody, please turn to chapter twelve in your textbooks. We’re going to be skipping ahead just a bit for this next unit.”

Twenty-two students simultaneously pull their books from their bags and begin flipping for the page. The sound of pages turning fills the air, coupled with a light scratching of chalk on the board as their teacher makes a few notes.

As her back is turned, Kai stares a hole into Bonnie. Her search for the faraway page is entertaining, but nothing’s more priceless than the shock on her face when her textbook automatically lands on it with a big thud. She jumps, then scans the page in disbelief. Her friends glance over to her, concerned and curious. Bonnie swallows her fear.

“Must’ve been the wind,” she mutters, noting the cracked window across from her. The chilly October air isn’t too greatly welcomed by the class, but their teacher insists on having a cool breeze. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Kai’s face. His lips are curved into a slight smile, eyes full of mischief. Anxiety races in her chest and she turns away.

Bonnie’s friends mutter something about a strong wind, but don’t comment further on the matter. Their attention is all brought to the teacher as she clears her throat and praises half of the class.

“Good job, you guys who found it so quickly. Using the index is always beneficial when you’re in a pinch. It is much faster than flipping through and hoping for the best. Now, can someone read out the summary?”

Bonnie lets out a silent thank you to whoever’s listening, as she isn’t called on to read the text. She fears her voice would be too shaky to read properly, or that Kai would hear it and save it to his memory.

This isn’t the first incident she’s had with him, nor will it be the last. The quiet kid that sits in the back of the room isn’t your ordinary quiet kid. He’s dangerous, and everyone knows it. He hasn’t technically done anything criminal, spare a few fights over the years, so there’s no substantial reason to report him, but everyone tries their best to stay on his good side.

Recently, he’s taken to Bonnie in a way that disturbs her. She can feel him watching her all the time, almost as if to study her. His posture is always relaxed, despite the stress that shows on his face; attempts to conceal it are poorly hidden by black eyeliner and cheap product. But what he can’t hide so easily is - quite literally - the trickery up his sleeve. Kai can do things she doesn’t understand, like flipping her pages or shutting doors. If she’s close enough, she can hear him whispering when he does it, or sometimes, he makes a hand gesture, and everything seems to obey. The teachers never mention it, or they’re afraid of bringing it up, and so for years, Bonnie assumes she’s imagined it. Though, as they enter their senior year and Kai’s odd behavior only increases, she’s started having doubts about her own beliefs.

When the class bell rings, Bonnie doesn’t even hear it at first. Her friends urge her from her seat with harsh pushes and clapping hands, and only after one directly in front of her face, does she emerge from her trance-like state of worried thoughts about Kai Parker. She gathers her things quickly and rushes out the door, putting on a HBIC attitude as she walks down the hall. Freshmen gawk and seniors wet their lips, but she ignores both age groups with a roll of her eyes on the way to her next class. Her friends are at her hip, donning the same attitude. They smirk as the sea of students parts for them, and at the reminder of her power in school, Bonnie internally shrugs. She is untouchable, and Kai is nothing more than one of her desperate classmates, willing to get a rise out of her with more extreme methods than most. It was just the wind that blew her page; he only smiled because she met his eyes.

Despite the rest of the day going smoothly, Bonnie finds herself walking to her Grams’ house rather than her own after school. She has her friends drop her off by the door, and laughs at their comments about her Grams’ “voodoo shit” before assuring them she’s only visiting to avoid her controlling father, not to be coaxed into trying herbs for her stress levels, nor anything else like that.

It’s no secret that her Grams is the witch of the town. Most people call her crazy, Bonnie included, but the woman insists they have magic in their blood. For years, Bonnie’s rolled her eyes every time she talks about it, but this time a stone seems to weigh on her chest. Her Grams studies her for a minute, then realizes that while she still might not believe she is a witch, she’s beginning to learn magic does exist, but doesn’t understand it. When she brings it up, her granddaughter is hesitant to talk.

“I felt like I was going crazy all day,” she finally admits, halfway through a lavender tea. “My page flipped to the exact right spot, and when I looked over to see if the wind could’ve blown it over, he was giving me this smile I couldn’t interpret.”

“Who is he, dear?”

“The weird, emo-ish kid in my class, Kai Parker.”

“Oh.”

Her tone piques Bonnie’s interest immediately. “What kind of ‘oh’ was that? Was that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’? Do you know him?”

“I know his family, not personally, but I know of them. Be careful, Bonnie, they’re not on the best side of the tracks.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Parkers are a particular family. They have the same abilities as we do, but their morals and traditions are quite different. Kai, especially, is quite different.”

“What does that mean, ‘abilities’? This isn’t that stupid witch-talk again, is it?”

“Bonnie-”

“It is! I don’t understand, every time I come over, you try to convince me of this stuff. This is why dad doesn’t want me to come here. What are you going to tell me, Kai’s a witch, too? He can move things with his mind? Move book pages and shut doors? Don’t witches sacrifice cats and shit?”

“That’s just in fairytales, dear. Only in cases of dark magic might sacrifices be made, and never such a loyal animal as a cat. But yes, Kai would be capable of things such as those, if he has the magic to do them.”

“There’s the word - magic. Y’know, this is why everyone thinks you’re crazy, Grams.”

“Yet you still came today, and I suspect over a hunch. He made you uneasy today. He performed a spell out of the corner of your eye, and you don’t understand. It’s okay to not understand, Bonnie.”

“No, this is insane. Kai is just another off-his-rockers bullied kid, and I probably got secondhand smoke from someone’s pot, because this is crazy.”

“Bonnie-”

“I’m leaving, okay? I can’t hear another word of this.”

“Bon-”

But the door slams behind her before she can say another word.

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

In practice, Bonnie almost drops someone. She’s usually a flier, but today her coach put her on base just to try it out, and while she’s usually versatile in her abilities, her mind is in a thousand different places right now. A teammate catches the girl quickly, but shoots Bonnie a glare, and their coach snaps at both for the fallen stunt.

“There’s a game coming up, and you guys cannot be messing around. You are going to get hurt.”

“If there’s a game coming up, we should be practicing in our usual positions,” Bonnie snaps.

The coach, passive when up against her best flier, caves. “I know. I was just trying something new to see if it worked. Everyone back to your usual positions.”

On the way back to their common formations, Bonnie’s friend catches her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Their other friend joins the small talk.

“Yeah, just… Grams being weird yesterday put me in a mood.”

“Voodoo shit?”

“It’s always voodoo shit with her.”

“Did she give you tea?”

“Lavender, but probably something else, too.”

“Girls! To your positions!”

With each wearing a scowl at the interruption, they trudge over to their places.

Bonnie doesn’t mention Grams’ talk of Kai to her friends. Nor does she admit to them that he’s the reason she almost dropped their temporary flier, nor does she confess she didn’t sleep that night because he was on her mind to the point of obsession. Something isn’t right about Kai - everyone knows that, but Bonnie suspects that something goes far beyond anything of her comprehension. Despite seeming like no more than your typical odd-ball, quiet kid, he’s someone who should not be undermined.

The next day in class, a ball of crinkled up paper hits Bonnie in the shoulder and she scowls. She turns to her friends, but their attention is uncharacteristically on the teacher. Bonnie frowns, but right when she’s about to chalk up the sensation to her imagination, she spots a paper ball on the floor. Cautiously, she picks it up and unravels it.

You look hot in that uniform. Bet it gives the perfect little show to the people that have to hold you up. Do you think they’d accept me on the team for that job? - xx kp

Her eyes look for him before she can stop herself. Staring right at her, Kai smirks. He runs his tongue along his lower lip, eyes traveling up her legs. Quickly, Bonnie changes the way she sits, pulling her legs out from under her. It doesn’t do much for the skirt length, but it makes her thighs slightly less visible. She swallows hard and crumples the note back up, tossing it in her bag just to get it away from her. For the rest of class, she can’t focus. And all throughout the game that night, she feels his eyes on her, despite not seeing him anywhere around the field.

For days after that, Bonnie considers reporting him. Kai seems to be getting more and more vulgar, while also becoming more comfortable. He doesn’t have a routine for throwing her notes; he has no specific class period nor time at which he may send her one, making every day an anxiety-filled mystery. She finds herself peeking over her shoulder more than she’d like to admit, wondering what he’s up to back there in the corner. A shiver goes up her spine every time they make eye contact.

Like clockwork, a ball of paper hits Bonnie’s shoulder. She considers ignoring it, already anticipating the sickly feeling in her stomach from whatever he has to say now. Though, like every time, some morbid curiosity makes her pick it up. She braces herself as she unravels it, then feels her mouth go dry. This time, it isn’t a message, but a drawing of two people in an explicitly sexual position. For a moment, she’s stunned by the penmanship. The “people” look like the art models one would find in their art teacher’s classroom; she didn’t even know Kai could draw. The picture, though, featuring the male model atop the female - depicted by their length in hair, amongst other things - almost makes her gag.

Disgusted, she pushes it to the corner of her desk and looks back at her notebook.

“Ms. Bennett,” the teacher’s voice suddenly calls her, “how many times have I said that you and your friends cannot pass notes in class? This is a time for learning, not for messing around.” Before she can even react, her teacher is at her desk and grabbing the paper.

Panic rushes through her body. “Mrs. D-”

But the woman only shakes her head. “Cute.” She drops it. “But let’s send each other drawings later, okay? There’s plenty of time for that outside of class.”

Confused, Bonnie scrambles to grab the paper. Her heart drops to her toes when she sees a little dog with a ball, instead of the vulgar scene she had received. Bonnie flips the paper over twice, but there’s no evidence that the dog was anything else. It was like a trick of her mind, but she doesn’t understand how the ink had transformed into something totally different.

“Bonnie,” the teacher says again, “focus, please.”

She throws the paper into her bag and tries not to think about it.

It’s all she can think about.

Whenever she’s scared or can’t find her confidence, Bonnie always goes to her Grams’ house. But this time, with all her talk of magic and witches, Bonnie feels like she can’t. She doesn’t want to admit how much the anomaly seems like magic. She doesn’t want to know more about Kai Parker and his family. She doesn’t want to hear anything else pertaining to anything except, dare she say it, actual school.

Much like before, Bonnie doesn’t mention the picture, nor what it became, to her friends. When they ask who sent her a drawing - it being none of them - she just shrugged. “It was a piece of paper I picked up off the ground.”

She goes to her next class shaken up but doing her best to hide it. She masks well.

The notes stop for a couple days. Maybe he’s gotten bored with her.

Or maybe he knows he’s gotten under her skin.

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

School starts to feel like school again after the football team’s most recent win. The players and their much appreciated cheerleaders are the school’s royalty; the kings and queens seen as to be on a pedestal amongst the others. Bonnie’s always enjoyed the attention. Regardless if she receives it out of others’ fear or fantasy, she relishes in the way it makes her feel.

As she rounds the corner to her next class, her fame seems to follow. Less popular girls’ eyes drop to the floor, and wannabe cool guys’ gazes travel up and down her body. Bonnie works on her locker combination as the sudden feeling of a hand on her waist makes her skin crawl. Looking quickly, her stomach lurches at a boy who seems to be acting on an unexpected bravery. He smiles at her with hearts for eyes, if he were a cartoon. His hand rests on her bare skin, feeling the space between the two fabrics of her uniform, and he drools as if he’s never seen a woman in his life.

“Get off me!” Bonnie shouts, jumping away.

He doesn’t though, nor does he apologize. The guy moves back towards her, reaching out once more.

“I’m going to tell a teacher!” Before she can yell for help, the guy yelps instead. Bonnie looks down just in time to see his hand being bent backwards into an unnatural position. His wrist, undoubtedly broken. The guy grabs his arm and shrinks into himself, then runs away with tears forming in his eyes. Bonnie stares, shocked, and a little scared. Then, the hairs rise on the back of her neck at the feeling of a new set of eyes on her. She looks around, only to see Kai staring at her. He gives her a small smile in response to her furrowed eyebrows. It answers nothing.

“What did you do?” She hadn’t seen him do anything, yet the question still feels relevant.

Of course, Kai only shrugs. He turns on his heels to leave, but not without flicking his wrist in the air. Bonnie’s only more confused, but then his locker door slams shut. A shudder runs through her body, but there’s no AC blowing through the vents. There’s no wind, either, as the double doors had been closed minutes ago.

Bonnie stares dumbfounded as Kai whistles on his way down the hall. She thinks of that guy’s wrist, bent so far that his fingers touched the back of his hand before returning back to normal. She could still hear the slam of the locker door reverberating in her eardrums. He had done something, in both instances, yet she had no idea what.

For the first time in her life, Bonnie wonders if what she saw could’ve been magic. She chides herself immediately, but it is technically the first thing to cross her mind. There is no other reasonable explanation for it. Maybe if it had only been one crazy thing to happen, but two together, with Kai involved in both, is too much for it to just be chalked up to coincidence.

It can’t be magic, she tells herself in class, that’s the stuff of fairytales. The air had to be on. He broke his own wrist to get a rise out of me.

He certainly did not, but she didn’t want to admit the alternative.

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

“Ms. Bennett,” her teacher’s voice becomes audible, “for the third time, are you listening?”

“What?”

“I asked you if you were listening.”

“Oh. Um, yeah. I mean, I am now.”

“Good. You’ll be paired with Kai for this project.”

“Wait, what?”

“Kai Parker.”

“But I’m usually with-”

“I’m switching things up today.”

“Oh.”

“You’ll all do fine with your new partners. You’ll learn to work together, despite your differences, if any present themselves.”

“But-”

“If I hear any complaints from any of you, these will be your partnerships for the rest of the year.” Bonnie wasn’t the one to complain, but she was sure as hell about to. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The class replies in unison.

“Good.”

Bonnie refrains from looking behind her. It won’t do any good for her sudden spike in heart rate to see his likely-smirking face. It’s just her luck that she’d be paired with him. However, fearing retaliation and their teacher’s threat to make partners permanent, she keeps her mouth shut. It’s just one project. It can’t be that bad.

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

They had decided to meet in the library, twenty minutes after classes, but thirty before the game, giving them a solid hour to work on the project. Kai found a spot way in the back, of course, and by the time she arrived, had laid the entire project across the table along with several supplies they’d need. She has to admit, she is lucky her partner is so prepared, because she certainly is not. This project isn’t something she’s particularly thrilled about, so she isn’t expecting to put in much effort.

“So I was thinking we would color code all the different groups of veins and muscles and bones and all that shit. It might be the easiest way to make the final product look not like a total mess. Because by the time this thing is complete, it’s going to be like the Skittles’ mascot threw up; Mrs. K really should’ve thought of that before, especially considering how most of our class has no organizational skills whatsoever.”

Bonnie almost laughs, and then realizes who she's talking to. “Sounds good,” she replies, giving him a small smile instead of an agreeable laugh.

“Okay. Cool. So do you have any kind of ideas for what color to make what? And maybe we can do different shadings for certain things? Or different mediums?” When Bonnie cocks her head in confusion, Kai explains, “like a pen for one thing. Marker for another. Perhaps, like a blue colored pencil for veins, and then a pink marker for muscle. Because it’s thicker. I don’t know, I’m drawing straws for the best way for this to look nice.”

“I think that works. Maybe we can outline where the bones would be in an orange marker. So they stick out, but aren’t too much in the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s good. And nerves can be purple, or maybe green, so they don’t clash with any veins. And-”

“What happened in the hall today?”

Kai pauses at the interruption. “What?”

“Y’know, by the lockers. With the guy.”

“The guy that was creeping on you?”

“Yeah, him.”

He shrugs. “Maybe he was dared to do it. Didn’t look so sure of himself.”

“No, I mean what happened to his wrist? Did you do something?”

“I-”

“And the locker slamming shut. You turned your wrist, and it closed. There wasn’t a draft. The AC hadn’t kicked on yet.”

“Did I?”

Bonnie grows agitated. She usually remains quite passive against Kai, but she knows he’s hiding something, she knows she saw something. “Don’t bullshit me! You did something.”

He wets his lips with his tongue. “I might’ve.”

“What? What did you do?”

“Would you even believe me if I told you?”

She hesitates. “Would you even tell the truth?”

“Touché.”

“What did you do, Kai?”

“Alright, honest answer, since you so strongly demand.” He rolls his eyes. “Magic.”

“Magic?” She questions. “Bullshit.”

“It’s not, actually. For example, if we didn’t feel like doing this whole project, I could just do a little finger-work, and complete most of it in a mere second.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true.”

“Prove it.”

Kai bites his lip. “Yeah, about that, though… I don’t really have access to magic. As in, I can’t make it myself.”

“What?”

“It sucks, I know.”

“Then how do you do the things you do? How do you break boys’ wrists, and slam doors, and send creepy pictures that turn into other things?”

Kai smiles, as if pleased she’s remembered his notes. “I take it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I take magic. That’s how.”

“I’m not following.”

“Basically, my dad has all these books in the house,” he pauses, reading her face, “grimoires, if you will.” Bonnie freezes. That’s the term Grams uses to describe her books. Her witchcraft books. “And,” Kai’s still talking, “if I touch them, I get a little bit of the magic inside them. Then I can use it however I want.”

“Grimoires?” She plays dumb, as if she hadn’t heard the word.

“Magical books. Spell books. Potions. History. Harry Potter on steroids.”

“And you expect me to believe this?”

“Alright here, let me prove it to you.”

“I just asked you to prove it and you said you couldn’t,” Bonnie points out.

“Yeah, technically. But I can.”

“How, exactly?”

“Let me touch you.”

“What?! No way!”

“Just your arm. Just for a moment. Enough to siphon a bit of your magic to use as my own.”

“I don’t have magic.”

“Oh, yes you do.”

“No, I don’t. If I had magic, I think I would know.”

“And I think I can prove two things to you right now. Kill two birds with one stone, if you will.”

“What do you want?”

“Let me siphon you. If it works, we prove two things. One, I can do magic, and I can show you how I’ve been doing all these fun and sexy tricks.” She wrinkles her nose at the word choice. “And two, I can prove that you can do magic. Because as a witch, I can only siphon other witches. Humans don’t have magic for me to take.”

“You’re insane.”

“Want to prove it?”

“Not really.”

“Are you sure?”

Bonnie sighs, then without another word, lets curiosity get the best of her and holds out her arm. Kai smiles slightly, then takes a gentle hold of her. Within seconds, a warmth floods her body, it’s origin being their point of contact. She stares incredulously, then gasps when the skin beneath his palm turns to a glowing orange. It doesn’t hurt at first, but when he doesn’t let go for another ten seconds, her body starts to feel weak. A sharp pain stings her shoulder.

“Hey-”

Kai drops her arm immediately. “Sorry. Felt good to take without having to steal.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I have to steal it when my father refuses to let me have it. Taking it allows me to focus better; feel the magic seeping into my bones and mix into my blood. It also hurts the one giving it less than if I were to steal it.”

Bonnie’s shudders, suddenly glad she didn’t argue too much.

“Alright. You have magic. Prove it.”

Without further question, he lifts a finger and rolls a crayon across the table. Bonnie watches, eyebrows furrowed, but then crosses her arms. “That’s so basic.”

“I can do more.”

She scoffs. Then, with another swift move on his part, her skirt flies up. It hangs in the air for a split second, exposing her, before flopping back down. Bonnie scrambles, moving her legs so that there’s no chance of it flying up again.

“You’re an ass!”

“But it worked, did it not?”

“The AC kicked on.”

“Okay. Don’t believe me. It’s fine.”

“Do something else.”

“Remember what I said earlier? That this project would go by so much faster if I just used a little bit of magic?” Kai ghosts his hand over the project and all the veins are correctly drawn and labeled on the model in one fell swoop. Bonnie blinks twice in complete disbelief. “Magic,” he chuckles, “just like I said.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You would if you’d listen to your Grams. Now. Since I think we’ve done enough of this project today. Let’s do better things! Much more important things.”

“Wait-” her brain is still stuck on the mention of her Grams. How does Kai know her? How does he know about her being a witch? Why does he think Bonnie is a witch? “I’m confused.”

He sighs. “I just explained it, BonBon. I suck up magic, and then I can use magic. I bet your Grams has mentioned it before.”

“How do you know her?”

“Family friend to my parents,” he says, matter-of-factly, “ish.”

“What?!”

“C’mon, Bonnie. You don’t think two witch families live in the same town and are just unaware of each other’s existence, now do you?”

“I- I don’t know!”

“She probably hasn’t told you too much because she didn’t think you’d believe her.”

“I-”

“Yeah. Magic can be hard to understand, I get it. But I can help you, if you’d like.”

“Help me with what?”

“Understanding it better. I’ll use my magic and you can get the hang of it. Because, I mean, the project was one thing, but I think it’d really help if you could see it in action.”

“In action? What? What do you mean?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

He chuckles. “Probably smart.” Kai rephrases, “do you want more?”

She decides for a moment, then offers a confident “yes.” She wants further proof of magic. She wants to understand. Bonnie doesn’t like Kai knowing something she doesn’t. Especially when it partially has to do with her.

“Alright, I have just the thing. Now, don’t panic, just let it happen. Watch my finger.”

Bonnie expects him to close the window blinds, or move a book across the counter. What she doesn’t expect is to suddenly feel a heat between her legs; the subtle ghost of a finger rubbing under her skirt, stimulating her most sensitive nerves. It takes her a moment to realize what’s happening, then she squeezes her legs closed.

“Kai!” He stops. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Magic.” She swallows hard and he watches her throat bob. “Do you want me to stop?”

Bonnie looks around. Their section of the library is relatively unoccupied. The woman at the desk has her nose buried in a book. Kai is giving her a look that makes her nervous, yet she can feel her body begging for more.

“No,” she weakly admits.

“Just a little more? So you can be sure it’s not a trick of your mind?”

“Yeah. That.”

He finds that funny. “Okay. That.” His finger starts to move again. Above the table, he makes circles on the wood. Atop her panties, she can feel him rubbing her clit. Bonnie bites back a moan. “Too much?”

“Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. With an annoying look on his face, he dives deeper, moving one hand for it to pet her heat, feeling the wet spot forming. He swallows cautiously, watching her face. “It’ll be easier if you unclench your legs.”

She gives him a little more room, almost unconsciously. Kai’s fingers have more room now. He finds a rhythm and takes note of the way her back arches in her chair.

“Oh god,” she mutters, “Kai.”

“Shh, don’t want anyone hearing, do you?” He’s close, suddenly. He nips at her earlobe which sends a shock down her spine.

“Shit.”

“Just let go. You’ll feel better.” Kai presses an unexpected kiss to her jaw. It startles her, much like the nip, but she doesn’t push him away. “C’mon, Bon. Let go.”

After another few seconds, she does. Kai doesn’t stop touching - magically - as she comes. He keeps his fingers busy throughout her high, admiring the deep breaths she takes to keep herself quiet. Bonnie clamps a hand over her own mouth and squeezes her eyes shut. After a moment, she rests a desperate hand on his shoulder, begging him to stop. Finally, he steadies his fingers, laying them flat on the table.

“Have you done this before? You’re good at staying quiet.”

She shakes her head quickly and it’s the truth.

“Huh. Well, is that proof enough?”

The girl reaches out and grabs his hand. She feels his fingertips for her wetness but finds them dry. “I- how?”

“Again, Bonnie Bennett, magic.” He winks, then stands up, project in hand. “Wow, um, almost time for the game. I’ll take this home and we can work on it later. How’s Tuesday work? That good? Great, I’ll see you then.” He seems to be talking more to the room than her. As if wrapping up the conversation how most study dates end could distract from what they had just done. “Oh, and Bonnie?” He leans back down to whisper in her ear. “I’d change, if you have a spare pair. Those might be a little wet.”

Instinctively, she reaches under her skirt and flinches at the wet spot that’s formed. When she looks back up to say something to Kai, he’s gone.

It takes Bonnie a minute to return to her senses. She stumbles out of the library queerishly and tries to remember which direction are the lockers. Luckily, by the time she gets there, she’s able to temporarily push out the library events, and catch her friends when they run into her arms.

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

Bonnie can’t stop looking at Kai all day. On Monday, she avoided eye contact with him - every time she’d look or hear his voice, she’d remember what he’d done - but on Tuesday, as she anticipates their “study date” in the next few hours, she finds herself glancing back more than she’d like. Each time he catches her looking, he sends her a wink that spends her spinning back around in her chair. Their teacher, luckily, is none the wiser, but after the third time, her friend notices.

“What’s up with you, Bon?” She asks. Bonnie misses the question. Out of the corner of her eye, Kai waves. Her friend follows her side glance. “Did he do something to you?” Bonnie still doesn’t hear, causing her friend to snap her fingers.

“What?” She blinks wildly, coming back to the present.

“Did he do something to you? You have this weird look on your face and have looked at him, like, ten times today.”

“What? Oh. I mean, he’s just being his usual self.” Bonnie then curses herself. She hasn’t told her friends about any of it: the incident at the lockers, the siphoning of magic, the thing in the library. She hasn’t even told them, nor her Grams, that she’s been starting to actually believe the whole “witchcraft” thing. Because one, how does one go about admitting they believe in witchcraft without sounding crazy, and two, how the hell is Bonnie supposed to confess that Kai is the one that brought her to belief?! “And by that I mean, just… staring. I don’t know, I can feel his eyes on me.” She never told them about the pictures nor the notes, either.

“Want me to get him in trouble?” She raises her hand for the teacher before Bonnie can even answer, causing the girl to panic.

“No! I mean, he’s fine. He hasn’t done anything.” She lowers her hand, and Bonnie explains a little more. “Save it for when he’s being weirder, so we’re not the boy who cried wolf, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, smart. So how’s your project coming along?”

“Which one?”

“The one where you’re paired with him.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, that. Fine. Luckily, I think his parents are strict enough that if he doesn’t do a good job, he’ll be in trouble,” she lies easily.

“Ah. Dare I say you’re lucky? My partner didn’t even show.”

“Yikes.”

“Yep. I’m screwed.”

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

“For the record, you’re not totally wrong.”

“What?”

“If I fail, my parents will be pissed. Y’know, they wanted to homeschool us, but my sister practically begged them to let us go to a real school.”

“I wonder why,” she mutters, thinking about what her Grams said about his family.

“Yeah, well, Jo wasn’t having it. And since she’s the favorite child, she got her way. As long as we’re both on our best behaviors.”

“Jo? AP Bio Jo?”

“That’s the one.”

“Huh.” Bonnie had no clue they were related. His sister’s one of the smartest - albeit most quiet - people in school. “So this is your best behavior?” She asks with a bit of snark.

“Yep. Can’t overstep my twin’s shadow, now can I?”

Twin? Well, guess they are in the same year. Kai is a mystery she continues to unfold.

“So you have to do well enough in school, but not too well?”

“Yep. Y’know what the balance is? Being smart, but no one sees it because you’re too busy being an asshole.”

“Right.”

He shoots two finger guns at her. “Exactly.”

There’s definitely something deep and dark hidden under all that, but Bonnie doesn’t feel comfortable unpacking it right now. “So… why me? Why do I always seem to be on the other end of your stick?”

“Clarify.”

“Like when you broke the guy’s wrist, or slammed your locker, why did you do it in front of me?” She pauses, then, “is it because you think I’m a witch?”

“Partly. To be honest, you should know you are a witch, but if you don’t want to admit that, that’s fine. The real reason, though, is ‘cause I like you.”

Bonnie’s surprised she doesn’t get whiplash from how fast she whips her head around to face him. “What?!”

He only shrugs. “I don’t know, you’re intriguing. See, I’ve been studying you these last couple months, first because I knew you were a witch, but then I became curious.”

“I’m not exactly comforted by the fact you’ve been ‘studying’ me.”

“Relax, I do it to everyone. You’re just the most interesting person so far.”

She’s not sure to take that as a compliment or not. “So what do you mean by ‘curious’ then?”

“Well, the way you’re not afraid to boss everyone around is attractive. You’re pretty on your own, obviously, but who doesn’t like a sassy woman? Besides,” he continues, “you just looked like someone who’d be into freaky shit.”

She scoffs, but isn’t exactly turned off by his crude words. “Like?”

“You tell me, are you a fan of magical orgasms, or is it the fact that we’re in the library that got you so wet last time?”

“I-I, I don’t know,” she stammers, taken off guard once again.

“Does that mean you need a refresher?”

“What?! Are you insane? We can’t do that again.”

“Oh please. Tell me it’s not the only thing you’ve thought about.”

“Well of course I’ve thought about it, it’s a little hard to forget what it was, but it cannot happen again!”

“What, scared of getting caught? Or scared of admitting you like it? Or, could it be you’re scared of seeing my magic again, scared to admit we’re both-”

“Don’t even say, ‘witches’.”

“-Supernaturals,” Kai says instead.

“Oh my god. Okay. Fine. Maybe one of those. Maybe all of the above.”

“So a no on the refresher?”

“We have to work on this project,” she insists, eyeing the students on the other side of the bookcase.

“Alright, then. Project time.”

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

Some hour into working - actual working - on the project, Bonnie starts to get restless. Kai’s behaved ever since she shut him down, but now it seems he’s getting antsy again. He looks like he’s doing nothing, but she can say she knows him better than that. A quiet Kai is a scheming Kai. The way his hands are resting still on the table, eyes are focused intently on the paper model, make her suspicious. When a familiar warmth starts to excite her body, coupled with a tingling sensation down her spine, she calls him out.

“Stop doing that.”

He looks up, noticeably caught off guard. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are. You’re doing your ‘magic’ thing.” She lowers her voice on the certain word.

Kai chuckles. “Um, nope. I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can feel it.”

“Are you sure that’s not just you wanting it? Because I don’t even have any right now.”

“Prove it.”

He tries to move the markers but can’t. The gesture towards her skirt does nothing.

“How do I know you’re not faking?”

“Why don’t you just admit you want it?”

“What?”

“You’re feeling things that aren’t there. Obviously you want something from me, and it isn’t my impeccable nerve drawing skills.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Says the one with the desire literally emanating off her. C’mon, you don’t think I can’t feel you staring at me?”

Bonnie says nothing. As much as she hates to admit it, he’s right. All day, her mind has been replaying the memory over and over, and if she’s honest, she’s getting pissed off at him right now, for pretending like he actually wants to do the project, instead of other things that he clearly would rather do instead.

She shrugs, still refusing to answer. In a way, that’s an answer in itself.

“Alright, let me finish this last nerve.”

“You’re on my last nerve.”

Kai chuckles, dimples indenting the sides of his face in a way that annoys her. It makes him look cute. She does not need to think he looks cute.

He puts his marker down and gives her a suggestive wink. “I’mma do something a little better this time. Less magic, something more… involved.”

“That doesn’t sound good coming off your tongue.”

“I think you’ll feel differently about my tongue in a couple minutes,” he says, suddenly dropping below the table.

She freezes, then turns to find where he went, gripping the rounded wood. “Wait, what are you doing?!”

“Magic makes you nervous, I get it. There’s other ways to have a good time.”

“Are you insane?!” She finds him between her legs, dangerously close.

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Bonnie rolls her eyes. “Just relax! No one’s around.”

The thought isn’t that much of a comfort, yet she unconsciously starts to pull at her skirt anyway. She glances around nervously as he moves in, strokes her leg to get her to inch off the seat, then kisses her inner thigh as soon as he gets access to it.

“You just have to be quiet,” he says.

“You just have to shut up,” she retorts, running a finely manicured hand through his hair and scratching slightly.

Kai smirks against her skin, still pressing kisses to it, then brings his attention to her core. To his surprise, she shifts to help him remove her panties, before returning her hands to his hair.

“Be quiet,” she tells him, anxiety rising.

“You be quiet.”

She speaks through clenched teeth. “Kai, I’m serious.”

“Relax,” he repeats, “you’ll be fine.”

She hates him seeing her nervous like this, and that anxiety is almost strong enough to make him push her away, but then he spreads her legs further, and presses his tongue flat against her core, and she gasps out of surprise before covering her mouth.

“Shit,” she mutters. Bonnie opts to lean forward more, blocking the view better for anyone who might unexpectedly walk by. She grabs a pencil to look busy, then puts it in her mouth to shut herself up instead.

Kai flicks his tongue between her folds, tasting her arousal as it builds. He keeps both hands on her inner thighs, keeping her legs open despite her innate urge to squeeze them together. He moves his lips to her clit, sucking the small bundle of nerves, and sending jolts of pleasure straight down her spine. Bonnie bites hard into the pencil. One hand dips below the table to find his hair again, desperate to hold onto something. Kai’s only encouraged by this. He rolls his tongue around her clit in circles, not stopping even when she’s digging her hand into his scalp.

“Oh my god, Kai,” she whispers, legs beginning to shake. Her jaw tightly clenched around the pencil was getting sore, but the minute she let up, his name slipped from her lips.

She puts her fist into her mouth instead.

“Shhh,” he playfully chides.

His focus is back on her core now as he lets his tongue explore. His nose is pressed up against her skin, so the next breath he remembers to take goes straight to her heat.

Bonnie’s overwhelmed with pleasure, yet desperate for more. She’s about to complain when he stops for a moment, but then a finger replaces where his mouth had just been, and his tongue returns to her clit.

His unexpected finger in her core sends a shiver throughout her body. She’s wet enough that he adds another almost immediately. Bonnie can feel her arousal dripping from her body, without her panties to catch it, and she tries not to cringe.

“Fuck.” She’s finally getting close. He works on her clit like he’s starving. His fingers hit her favorite spot.

“Want a little something extra?” He pauses to ask, eyes twinkling with danger.

Bonnie’s not sure if he’s talking about magic, but she doesn’t care. She’s embarrassed when those words fall from her lips. “I don’t care, just don’t stop.”

Smirking slightly, Kai does as he’s told. He finds the same rhythm he was using a second prior, bringing her back to the edge before she could lose it completely. He then focuses on the hand holding her inner thigh from closing in on his head and siphons. Bonnie struggles to hold back a whimper, then audibly clamps a hand back over her mouth. She makes a fist again, biting down hard.

Kai only siphons enough to make her finish, then stops. He relies on himself to do most of the work, not his magic. He fingers her throughout her orgasm, only stopping when the sounds become too loud contrasting the quietness of the library. He licks at her clit until she releases her tight grip of his hair.

Relief shudders through Bonnie as she’s finally snapped. Tension releases from her shoulders, causing her to momentarily slouch onto the desk. Kai laps at her arousal, cleaning it up as much as he can, before ducking his head out of sight. He reemerges a second later, eyes glossy. Bonnie turns to him, still breathing hard.

“Holy shit.”

“Any regrets?”

“Hell no.”

He runs his tongue along his lower lip, still wet from her. The sight sends another shockwave throughout her body. The sudden desire to kiss it off him rises, but she fights it. She doesn’t want to make things intimate between them; they’ve become close enough the last couple days.

“Do you?” She returns the question, wanting to ask something, but not sure what.

Kai raises an eyebrow. “Do you even have to ask?”

Bonnie smiles before she can stop herself. Her gaze drops to the floor.

“Can I ask something?” He’s hesitant, not quite where he stands with her now. Does this make them friends? Friends with benefits? Classmates with benefits? Classmates with secrets?

“What?”

His question has nothing to do with the thousand that swirl about in his mind.

“What made you change your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, you know my rep around here, and I know I freaked you out for a while-”

“You still freak me out.”

He chuckles. “So what made you change your mind enough to trust me? To let this happen, not once, but twice?”

She crosses her arms, stubbornly, but at the raise of one of his eyebrows, sighs and lets her guard down. “Maybe seeing how your magic works ‘changed my mind’,” she makes quotation marks with her fingers. “My Grams is always so… enthusiastic about the way she talks about it. I think your dull voice helps tone it down.”

“Nice save.”

Bonnie actually laughs. “It’s less daunting, I guess.”

“And seeing it in action like this helps, I bet,” he teases.

“Maybe so.”

“Well, on that note, you have practice soon, and I should find Jo before she leaves me here. But, uh, we're still good to meet Thursday?”

“Yeah. And maybe… if you really say I’m a witch, too, you can help me tap into that, so I can cheat on some of these really boring assignments.”

Kai snorts. “Only if you let me siphon occasionally.”

“Only if this never gets out to anyone.”

“Ditto.”

“Then we have a deal.” She agrees. “Oh! And another thing, this,” she points in between them, “won’t be the last time, okay?”

“Deal.”

#kai parker x bonnie bennett #bonkai fics #bonkai smut #bonkai oneshot #tvd fanfiction

34 notes · View notes

ughgoaway · 1 year ago

Text

I need you like a heartbeat

content warnings: mentions of sex... that's kinda it the rest is just very soppy lovey-dovey stuff!! word count- 1.9k

a/n: hi!! so I kinda lied about doing under 1000 words but once I got going I couldn't stop lol. I did write this quick so if it's really bad don't tell me (please do I cannot cope not knowing). This was inspired by this request for some fluffy aftercare, thanks for the request!! this is my first time writing fluff so be gentle with me... I'm not good at being in love (haven't done it irl yet) so we'll see how it goes. also would just like to reiterate I am English but I did use braid instead of plait because I have beef with the spelling of plait, I think it's stupid so refuse to type it. also, I was gonna include a full skincare scene but alas I don't do any so had no idea what to write... anyway here you go!!

Thump. Thump. Thump. All you can hear is your heartbeat in your head, the repetitive rhythm being the only thing keeping you grounded. Without it, you fear you would just float away. You fear your weightlessness would simply cause you to disappear from the earth as you know it.

Soon a pair of hands come up to wipe your tear-stained face, you instinctively lean into the touch despite not quite remembering who it is. “Baby? Darling, you with me?”

Matty.

The calloused hands delicately wiping your face belong to your boyfriend and his touch makes the fog in your mind begin to lift. As it always does when you're around him. 2 years in and still you've never met someone you feel so clear around. That may seem unusual to some people, they all say “isn't the love of your life meant to make you a bit hazy? Make your head swirl and your mind go blank?” But no, not to you. You've never felt anything but clear around him, just so completely yourself it almost hurts. There was never any fogginess in your mind, there was nothing but a clear choice. Him. It was as if there was a spotlight on him wherever you were, he was in plain sight. The first thing you saw no matter what.

Slowly your eyes blink open and you're met with the sight of your very naked boyfriend hovering over you giving you a warm smile, “there's my sweet girl” he says staring adoringly at you. The smile was quickly mirrored by you followed by a small giggle. Despite having seen him naked 1000 times, suddenly this time was very funny.

“What are you giggling at, hmm?” Matty says, despite lightly giggling himself, he always found your laughter so contagious. Your joy always lit up every room you were in. The pure happiness that surrounded you was so contagious it couldn't help but rub off on him. So for the first time in his 34 years of life, Matty would describe himself as giddy, not just from your giddiness infecting him but from just you in general. The love he felt for you made him feel 15 again like he was crushing on a girl way out of his league. Becoming slowly obsessed with seeing her around school. But with you, that feeling never went away, that slight obsession was ever permanent. And he loved it. He was nothing but absolutely, unbelievably obsessed with you. And he told you as such, over and over again.

“You’re naked” you manage to splutter out in your fit of giggles, Matty felt his heart flutter at the sight of you. Naked also, tears of dark mascara staining your cheeks and dozens of hickeys and bites blooming on your body but also giggling with no care in the world.

“Hate to be the one to tell you this sweetheart, but you're naked too. Don't tell me you forgot about my amazing lovemaking skills so quickly” Matty says, acting offended at your forgetfulness.

“One,” you begin, acting mock serious at the man on top of you “Never call it lovemaking again or it will start happening substantially less” Matty laughs at you and begins pressing small kisses over the expanse of your face. “Two” you try and list off your second point but soon get lost in another fit of giggles at the myriad of kisses being littered over your face.

“I'll never get my second point out if you keep kissing me” you manage to stutter out, trying to speak but being accosted with pecks.

“Fine, fine, sorry baby- go on,” Matty says leaning back slightly and looking back at you fondly, loving how you can go from moaning his name and crying from pleasure to giggling at your naked boyfriend.

“Thank you,” you fake clear your throat to assure your boyfriend this was a serious matter, “Two- I could never forget, I just suddenly found it funny you were naked.” You finish your statement and look up at your boyfriend.

His hair was sweaty and sticking up in 50 directions, a pink flush decorated his cheeks and his pupils were blown so wide if you didn't know better, you'd think he had black iris’. He’d never looked more beautiful to you. Well, aside from the 50 other times you had assured yourself he never looked more beautiful.

You attempt to sit up to return the onslaught of kisses but you hiss as you're soon reminded of what you were just doing. Everything hurts, in the best way, of course, your arms feel like jelly and you can faintly feel his cum leaking out of you.

As quickly as you try to sit up you are ushered back down by Matty, “No, no don't get up sweetheart. I’m going to go get a warm cloth from the bathroom and clean you up a little yeah?”

You nod lightly, closing your eyes and resting on the silk pillowcases behind you. You are almost lulled back to sleep at the noises of your boyfriend moving around the room but a hiss soon left your mouth as Matty begins wiping you delicately.

The various marks on your thigh burn as Matty wipes your wetness off them, he apologises over and over. Only getting more insistent as he begins to wipe at your core. He starts at the top, lightly patting your clit and hushing your whimpers, hating he was hurting you.

But soon the feeling of him cleaning stopped, you looked down only to catch your boyfriend staring longingly at the sight of his cum leaving you. For the third time tonight, giggles leave you as you stare at the blank expression on his face

“Oops sorry darling, got a bit distracted there but I'm back to business now I swear” Matty assures you before cautiously swiping at your hole and cleaning up the mess he made. The cloth was tossed aside as Matty worked his way back up your body to your face, smiling at your blissed-out look.

“You feel well enough to walk yet baby? We really need to get that makeup off and do your skincare. You’d kill me if I let you go one night without rubbing some oil or serum on your face.”

You smile and nod at your boyfriend, preparing to walk only to be scooped up in his arms and carried into the bathroom. The cold tile of the vanity soon hit your bum causing another hiss to leave your bitten lips, red and puffy from the nights events.

“What was the point in being able to walk if you were just gonna carry me huh handsome?” you say staring at your boyfriend while he grabs the makeup wipes and begins wiping your tear-stained cheeks.

“Always gotta give you the princess treatment baby, just wanted to make sure if you had to walk you could. But I would never make my girl walk all the way to the bathroom! What kinda boyfriend would I be huh” he says jokingly. He's so intensely focused on finding your numerous skincare products he doesn't notice the massive smile that takes over your face.

Matty has about 20 bottles in his hands, each one causing the confused frown on his face to grow. You stifle your laugh at his clear confusion and grab the various products from him and place them by the sink next to you.

“Don't worry about all that tonight baby, just some moisturiser I think. I'm too knackered for much else” You notice Matty let out a relieved breath at your shortened routine, not quite sure what he would do if you wanted to do the full thing.

He grabs the small tub nestled between the mess of products on the counter and begins rubbing it in small circles on your cheeks and forehead. You almost catch your eyes closing at the feeling of him massaging your face but force yourself to keep them open to look longingly at your boyfriend's very focused face, tongue out and all.

“You wanna have a bath darling or should I just braid your hair and we call it a night?” Matty says, still rubbing your face despite all the moisturiser being applied. He just loved touching you, anyway he could. Not necessarily sexually, as much as he enjoyed that. But just loving small touches, a kiss on the cheek when he walked past, a hand on the small of your back when you stood together, even just your pinky fingers linked together as you spoke around a dinner table. Little affectionate touches kept Matty going and he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to touch your very pretty face.

“Just some braids would be amazing, thank you my love” You smile at your doting boyfriend as he nods and grabs the hairbrush, slowly bruising out the multitude of knots caused by him, he's sure.

His nimble fingers pass your hair between them, slowly braiding your now neatly brushed hair. Matty grabs a hair tie and secures both of your braids at the end. Finishing with a flourish and a kiss on your nose that made your face scrunch up in that adorable way he loved.

Silently Matty picks you up again, smiling at the roll of your eyes and a bashful grin that you give him whilst in his arms. He places you on the edge of your bed before going to the chest of drawers behind him to fetch you both some clothes.

You hold in your giggles at your boyfriend's bare bum, assuming he wouldn't love another fit of laughter at his nakedness.

He soon returns with 2 pairs of black calvins and your favourite one of his shirts, the peach Panasonic shirt he once wore all the time. But mysteriously he stopped, about 2 years ago.

The first night you'd slept together Matty lent you that shirt, he remembers watching you sleep so soundly that morning in the shirt he adored. He vowed there and then to never wear it again, not wanting to sully it with any other memory than the memory of you.

He slipped the shirt over your shoulders and the calvins up your legs, giving your bum a cheeky pat when you lifted your hips to get them on. He followed you up the mattress and settled on the pillows, facing you and staring fondly into your eyes.

Each time your eyes met you treated it like a staring contest, never wanting to be the first to look away. The pure adoration in the other's eyes always kept you looking, staring, not ever wanting to leave that moment.

Matty broke first this time, a small celebration happened in your mind as he pulled the duvet over the two of you. He swung his arm over your shoulder as you settled on his chest. He leant down to give you a gentle kiss on the crown of your head with a large smile on his face.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he said, a smile evident in his voice.

Yours was slightly muffled by your head pressed into his chest but you returned his comment, “I love you too baby, thank you for making me feel good”

“Always” is the last thing Matty said, or the last thing you remember hearing before sleep took over you in the arms of the man you were sure was your soulmate.

#matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #matty healy fic #request!!#omg my first request... love that #i wrote this in like an hour i apologise if its shit

267 notes · View notes

ravenwraithe · 1 year ago

Text

Revelations

(or how Pav and Miles Fucked Up and Maya Auntie Fucked Miguel Up)

Maya did not think her day was gonna end with her trying to chuck a belan at a thug wearing a blue and red body suit.

But then again, she was not expecting to find herself another nephew and a niece too.

Perhaps she should rewind a bit.

***

Maya's eyes opened to the light of sunrise shining through the thin curtains. Her phone rang with bird whistles under the pillow, and she stepped out of bed, already thinking about what to put in Pavitr's lunchbox. She loved her nephew, her baby since- since everything, but he ate like a buffalo and yet, he was still wasting away.

She could make him his favourite Pav Bhaji, she thought, taking out the vegetables to warm them up before she cooked them. Lord knows he suddenly started loving it out of nowhere, some months ago, around the same time he started staying out late and coming home exhausted and screaming 'Auntie, kuchh khaane ko hai kya, itni bhook lagi hai, pura imarat khajaun,' and proceeding to finish the entire contents of the refrigerator, including the karela bhaji. Pav never looked at karela bhaji. Even when there was nothing else in the house. It was very suspicious.

At first she thought it was that model girl, what-was-her-name, Gayatri. Maya warned Pavitr to not get very attached to her, she did not want her boy to get hurt, no. But this change of heart couldn't be because of Gayatri, no matter how much she snuck around when Maya wasn't home. She could smell the designer perfume in her nephew's room, the boy wasn't sneakier than his aunt. Pavitr looked visibly happier on days the perfume smelled the strongest. He laughed louder when she was over for snacks or homework, and Maya couldn't fault him for that. She might need to have a little talk about girls with him soon, Maya thought, spitting out toothpaste and rinsing her face.

So it wasn't the girl. Maya refused to think it was his other friend, Hobie. They were so sweet, even if she thought they could do with a little more substantial clothes than thin stockings and ratty jackets. She had mistaken them for a robber the day she met them, but hey, all that ends well? Right?

She walked back to the kitchen, in time to see a curly haired boy swing in through the window, barely missing her pudina plants.

"Are- arey?! Aap kaun?" Maya reached for the ladles she kept in the left drawer, fingers scrabbling at the smooth handle.

"Woah! Sorry for this, Maya Auntie!" The boy raised his hands. "Didn't think I'd run into you, I'm so sorry-"

"Who are you?" Maya pointed the potato masher she'd grabbed at him. "Why do you know my name?"

"Pav talks about you a lot, I'd be a bad friend if I didn't know your name," The boy said, tilting backwards over the water filter to avoid her potato masher. "I'm Miles,"

"Eh, I don't know how much is a mile, convert to kilometers."

"No, no, my name, its Miles," The boy looked at him, eyes wide. "Didn't Pav tell you?"

When did her boy start hanging out with another American boy? "He didn't say anything about you-"

"MILES!" The pink spidergirl Maya saw swinging around sometimes, landed on her sill, almost flipping all her pudina. "Miles, you're not supposed to be here!"

"And you are not supposed to be there, beta, khidki se utar jao," Maya gestured at her to get down, fearing for her plants. "Who are you now?"

"Ummm, I'm Spiderwoman?"

"Dikh raha hai. I meant who are you, not what do you do, dear."

"Oh, I, um-"

"Gw-wanda!" Pavitr called out, barging in unceremoniously in his sleep pants, without a shirt.

"Hey, um, Pav-"

"Pavitr beta, baniyan daal ke aa, kitni baar bola hai ladkiyon ke samne nanga mat ghoom," Maya stopped every conversation happening, pointing back at his room.

"Nanga kahan hun main," Pavitr muttered, pulling on a shirt lying just out of sight in the kitchen. Teen boys, kab sikhenge saaf safai. "Abhi thik hai?

"Han." Maya nodded at him, before turning to all three of them "What is happening, Pavitr dear, why do I have a random boy in winter clothes and spider didi standing in my kitchen?"

"It's a long story?" Pavitr tried.

Maya thought for a second. "You don't have to go to school today. Take the day off, explain this to me."

Maya definitely heard him cursing as he left to freshen up.

***

Maya set down plates full of poha and tall glasses of orange juice for everyone while they told her their 'long story'.

Handing out spoons to everyone, she sat herself down on the last armchair, reaching for the achaar jar on the table. "So Pavitr, why don't you introduce me to your friends? I would love to know how you are friends with- What's your name, honey?" She directed the last part at the girl in the spider suit.

"Gwen."

"Right, with Gwen."

Pavitr had stuffed his mouth full, chewing slowly. Gwen had taken her mask off, gingerly biting a piece of carrot picked out from the poha. Miles answered with something that made Maya almost spit out the spoonful of poha in her mouth.

“Uh, Pav you haven’t told her that you are spiderman yet?” Pavitr choked, and Maya thumped him harder than strictly necessary. Even if the Miles boy was lying, clearly Pav knew these kids and didn't tell her. Miles muttered a soft ‘ow’ as Maya turned back to him.

“Miles, beta, what are you saying?”

Miles looked like a deer in headlights, as Pav sunk down his seat trying to stuff even more poha into his mouth, giving the unmistakable impression of the squirrels she likes to feed on her walks.

Gwen shifted around like she would love to be anywhere but here. Maya stared at them, waiting for one of them to explain something about the situation.

It was Pavitr that finally broke the tense silence with a “I’m spiderman, Bua.”

Maya stared some more.

“I’m the kid that’s been swinging around the city, fighting the gundas, the bad guys. I hid this from you, because it wasn’t safe for you to know, so I won't ever be sorry for that, but I'm really sorry for hurting you by hiding a part of who I have become now.” Pavitr looked down at his lap, his voice hoarse like he was trying to not cry and Maya couldn't hold back anymore. She leaned over and hugged Pavitr tight, feeling his sigh of relief as he went limp in her embrace. Maya mostly felt, rather than see, the other two kids leave.

“I love you, beta, I’ll love whoever you are and will be, there is nothing in this world that could make me hate you or love you less.” Maya murmured, petting her nephew’s, no, her son’s hair.

Pavitr’s laugh was the best sound she had heard in months.

***

Pavitr called Miles and gwen back in after 3 minutes of intense embracing. They strolled in looking thoroughly uncomfortable. Maya glaced at the clock. It was hard to believe it had been only 20 minutes since Miles crashed into her kitchen.

“Im really sorry Maya Auntie, but we need to get going, or Miguel will-” Gwen clamped a hand over Miles’ mouth.

“Could you please stop revealing everything to her immediately before Pav’s had a chance to explain to her?”

“Who’s Miguel?” Maya asked.

“He’s like our employer? in a way, Pav can explain better,” Gwen looked pointedly at Pavitr.

Pavitr looked long suffering as he turned heavenwards for strength maybe, or just moral support because he knew Maya was not one for employment before he was an adult. Way too many people out in the world to take advantage of minors and their naivety.

“Miguel is like our organiser, he lets us know when there’s a job to be done, like assigns us on different vil- uhm- people,” Pavitr scratched his neck.

Maya has seen that exact tell since Pavitr was old enough to lie- from getting caught with malai around his lips at age 5 to sneaking gayatri or hobie into his room to turning his face away only months after his uncle, her husband had passed, hiding the tears still streaming down his face- all accompanied by the same scratch of his neck. She knew he was holding something back. “Pavitr, beta, organiser? Tu dallon ke saath kaam karta hai? Aur jobs? Kis tarah ke jobs?”

Pavitr turned red, but continued bravely, “Miguel dalla nhi hai! I mean, ek tarah se hai par, woh hame bas kuch bure logon ko marne bhejta hai aur mujhe toh itna zyaada bhi nahi bhejta, bua, mein baba ka kasam khake bolta hun, mujhe kuchh bhi nahi hua hai,” Pavitr wasn’t looking at her anymore.

Maya was furious. Not at Pavitr, never at him, but this random man, whom she has never met, told her nephew, her son, her baby, got him running around, doing his bidding? No way she was going to stand that. “Marne? Kya matlab? Jaise laat ghusa ya jaan se? Nahi rehne do, jo bhi karwata hai, dallali hi hai. Pavitr, you stay away from that man, and keep your friends away too.”

“I can’t, he is the reason we met in the first place,” Pavitr went on with a voice Maya couldn't quite place.

“What do you mean?”

It was Gwen who spoke up next. “He gave me a place to belong to when my dad was going to arrest me because he thought I- when he thought I k- killed someone dear to both of us, without ever hearing me out, and it is because of him and another woman that I met this bunch of nerds.”

“Are we just forgetting the fact that he also tried to kick you out of the society because I fuuh- ruined some stuff? And you actually were rooming with Hobie?” Miles frowned at Gwen, and it felt like they had had this conversation before and this conversation was going down the exact same route as the previous ones. Pav nodded along, agreeing with Miles.

Maya was furious and lost. “Wait, you were rooming with Hobie? As in Pav’s friend Hobie?” Gwen and Miles nodded. “What society? Why is Hobie associated with it?” She whirled onto Pavitr.

Pavitr shrunk like he wanted to melt into her kashmiri carpet instead of having this conversation, again. “The Spider-Society. A club, kinda, for all the spider people and spider animals and spider objects. Hobie is also spiderman, for their- place, in London. They travel here frequently because they have speciality transport clearance as Hobie’s crew. Well, ex-crew as of some months ago,” Pavitr shrugged. “They still have some perks for travelling, but they stay over sometimes.”

“When did they last come over?” Maya asked, doing some serious math mentally.

“Uhh, Thursday?”

“And what was the last time Gayatri came over?”

“Monday.”

“And what did Gayatri gift you for your birthday?

“A perfume from Versah- oh, shit. Sorry, uh, I'm just, gonna shut up now,” Pavitr blushed so deep, Maya was worried for his heart.

Maybe she should have a talk about boys with him instead.

“We are discussing this later, I want to know what exactly you've been doing with them that requires spraying half a bottle of perfume after they’re gone,” It was Gwen and Miles’ turn to look confused. Maya didn't bother to clarify anything.

“Tell me more about this Miguel dude,” Maya leaned back in her armchair.

“He tried to throw Miles off a train.” Gwen said, looking Miles straight in the eye.

“And sent all the society after him, like two thousand people,” Pav added.

“More like two hundred but go off, I guess,” Miles muttered, avoiding Gwen’s eyes

“Wait, how are you still alive? And how old is he?” Maya asked incredulously. These kids needed better guardians, and she was adopting them immediately. They can't be running around with this Miguel guy without adult supervision-

“He’s maybe thirty three? I’m not sure, Peter would know,” Miles shrugged, forgoing the first question entirely.

“He is an adult? And he tried to throw you, a kid, a child, off a train? I need to meet this guy, maybe have a little talk,” Maya Auntie stood up, fuming.

“What they didn't tell you, that Miguel also put Miles in a cage, so he would be unable to go save his loved ones from certain disaster,” Spoke a familiar British dude on her windowsill, thankfully not on the one with pudina on it. Maya’s favourite friend of Pavitr’s, though she wasn’t sure if friend was the correct word anymore, if it ever was.

“And Auntie, if you really wanna meet dear ol' Miggy, I can take you,” Hobie grinned, holding up a watch that glitched in and out of reality.

Maya missed the terrified looks on Gwen, Miles and Pavitr’s faces as she reached for it.

*****

Part 1 of 2

translation (as always, this is not direct translation, just close enough, or whatever fits better in context) (non direct translation marked with [])(also jsyk, everything is pronounced, exactly the way its written):

beta- son / [means as good as son]( i bet yall have this memorised)

belan- rolling pin

pav bhaji- buttered and toasted buns with curried potatoes and vegetables (as much as it pains me to describe it so, its simplest explanation and i have no patience its nearly 6 in the morning and i haven't slept a wink)

Auntie, kuchh khaane ko hai kya, itni bhook lagi hai, pura imarat khajaun- auntie, is there something to eat, im so hungry, i could eat a whole building

karela bhaji-spiced stir fried bitter gourd (which is very bitter, as you might have guessed, i personally like it, most people hate it)

pudina- mint plants (lmao)

Are- arey?! Aap kaun?- hey! who are you?

beta, khidki se utar jao- child, get down from the window

Dikh raha hai- i can see that

Pavitr beta, baniyan daal ke aa, kitni baar bola hai ladkiyon ke samne nanga mat ghoom- Pavitr dear, ive [literally told you so many times] to not roam about naked in front of girls

Nanga kahan hun main- [how am i naked]

kab sikhenge saaf safai- when will they learn cleanliness

Abhi thik hai- [is this fine?]

didi- older sister (term of respect, usually)

poha- stirfried soaked flat rice flakes and cubed vegetables with spices (again the simplest description)

Bua- aunt, who is the sister of your father (yep hindi has a word for that)

gundas- goons

malai- cream from milk

Tu dallon ke saath kaam karta hai? Aur jobs? Kis tarah ke jobs?- you're working with [ring leaders]? and jobs? what kind of jobs? (bc dalla (dallon- pl.) famously means pimp, but it actually also means 'person who leads extremely questionable stuff')

Miguel dalla nhi hai! I mean, ek tarah se hai par, woh hame bas kuch bure logon ko marne bhejta hai aur mujhe toh itna zyaada bhi nahi bhejta, bua, mein baba ka kasam khake bolta hun, mujhe kuchh bhi nahi hua hai- miguel is not a ring leader! i mean, he is kind of, [but he tells us to deal with bad people, and i don't even get assigned a lot, auntie, i swear on my father, nothing bad has happened to me]

Marne? Kya matlab? Jaise laat ghusa ya jaan se? Nahi rehne do, jo bhi karwata hai, dallali hi hai.- [deal with? as in beating them up? or taking them out?, no stop, i don't want to know, but whatever hes been doing, he is brokering you out, using your services]

kashmiri- [from Kashmir]

A/N:

i havent forgotten miles’ hypocrisy, we’ll definitely come back to that

the reason maya auntie didnt call miles out in the first place is that she doesn't know what is the etiquette for someone coming out as spiderman ( i say it like thats a new category in the alphabet mafia lmao) and she is a desi gossip queen, shes not refusing any source of information about anything (one thing i know that if desi aunties ran intelligence services, we’d all be fucked as hell) , we love her in this household

more seriously tho, family dynamics in india is just on a different plane of existence, and privacy, until like 20 years ago, was a ‘western’ concept, ‘made to weaken the integrity of society’ and as maya auntie is a product of that generation, she doesn't see anything wrong with miles exposing pav like that

i, however, know that is very wrong, and do not endorse or encourage it in anyway, and miles would be getting his sweets bc of that lil moment of breaking trust

it is just plot babyyyy

a little bit of explanation of the employment thing, bc the norm for employment is like 16 right? in india it is 18, or more normally 22, being a third world country, exploitation, generational trama and everything, yk

if there's something that's missing or wrong just lemme know bc im editing this at no sleep in 72 hours, pls don't be shy 💞

59 notes · View notes

elvisabutler · 2 years ago

Note

would you consider doing a professor presley request on the first night belle slept over? her insecurities making sure he really wants her there, she isn’t taking up space and him needing her to be there in the morning, holding on tight all night and that one little scene where she goes up to go pee and he times her. i love them so much

lover, be good to me

summary: your first official night staying over at graceland as professor's presley's girlfriend manages to go far better than you think it will minus a small hiccup. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t just for a brief implication of sexual activities pairing: professor! elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x student! female reader word count: 1219 warnings: big daddy elvis. elvis using a walking stick/cane. student and professor relationship ( everyone is of legal age ). use of the nickname belle for the reader. brief mention of past traumatic experiences with past partners. brief mention of imagined violence toward intimate partners. brief concerns about being abandoned. author’s note: so i almost made this not just pure fluff. thought briefly about adding a little bit of smut to it before i decided against it mostly because it felt like that wasn't the point of it. that it really needed to just be the pair of them. once again, this is part of the professor presley universe, see the tag for all the parts and such and never worry about sending me stuff about them because i love them and these two are so near and dear to my heart. picture austin as elvis or elvis, i'm not picky even though i know i see real elvis more. also if you want to be on my taglist for anything, click here and fill the form out. responses are anonymous when it comes to me getting your email, obviously i'll know the tumblr name though.

You know better. You both actually should know better if you honestly think about everything for too long. After everything the two of you have gone through you honestly shouldn't be moving this fast. You've been burned enough times and he's old enough that you both should know better. The two of you shouldn't be wrapping yourselves tighter and tighter around one another as the hours go by. Perhaps though, perhaps you always were wrapped around one another. Perhaps from the moment you sat in his class the two of you caused what would be just a flicker of light- an ember of desire from afar turn into a roaring fire of something akin to love. Who were you kidding, there was nothing akin to about your love for him and his love for you. Nothing small and reserved about how you worried about him and how you both fit so naturally against one another. Almost as if you were made to find each other at this moment in time and no other.

It's only been a week since you had broken down in Elvis's office. A week of bliss between you going to your classes and him teaching his own. A week of bliss that you didn't dare ruin by asking or agreeing to spend the night with Elvis because you know what would happen. Old habits die hard even when presented with such love it threatens to choke you from the sheer intensity of it. Old habits die hard and you're so terrified of waking up to Elvis regretting everything and kicking you out. He wouldn't hurt you but when you sleep sometimes an image of him using his substantial bulk and weight against you, dragging you out of bed, smacking you with his cane until you left comes to unbidden. It terrifies you.

It's Noelle who finally tells you to just try one night with him. One night where you don't leave out of fear of a wake up call he's unlikely to give. You almost tell her you refuse to, that you'll go on doing this stupid little dance where you love him and show him affection and would do anything for him but where you refuse to even consider sleeping at his house overnight. Except after she tells you to try he asks over lunch with such an expectant look that you can't help but say yes. You can't help but feel warm from the inside out as he grins at you and looks like he wants to pick you up and twirl you, his leg be damned.

There's something different about purposefully falling asleep next to him though. Something different about curling up next to him as he reads, his glasses perched on his nose and hushing you when you tell him that it seems a little too dark in the room. You distract him enough that his book is forgotten no more than ten minutes later and you find that both of you are a little sweaty as you lay your head down on his chest, hand playing with his chest hair almost rhythmically until you doze off to the sounds of his snores.

His grip on you is tight, his hand cupping your hip in a way that you're not too sure if his fingers are going to leave bruises. It would be disconcerting when anyone else does it but it soothes something inside your chest. It soothes that angry and scared monster beneath your breast that snarls that he doesn't want you here- not really- and that you're going to need to leave soon before he kicks you out. It soothes the smaller voice inside your head that tells you that you're making him uncomfortable laying on his chest like this. That you're the reason for his snoring and that you should detangle yourself from him before he detangles himself from you. His grip on your hip and the way his arm fills around you and the way his body heat is right next to you has everything quieting down and narrowing your thoughts to just the two of you.

Well. The two of you and how much you kind of need to use the bathroom. You're loathe to leave him but you know better than to try and sleep when you need to go like this. It's a recipe for having to wake up at best ten minutes after you fall back asleep. A pillow is unoccupied behind you and you shimmy just a little to grab it, noting how Elvis shifts in his sleep a little, his grip tightening as he growls in his sleep. Your heart twists at the knowledge that he's going to likely realize you're trying to get up and think maybe you're leaving again when nothing could be farther than the truth. Nothing could be farther than the truth because all you want to do is just stay curled up against him, listening to his heart beat only for you in this moment.

It takes longer than it should to detangle yourself and replace your body with the pillow but when you finally slide off the bed you let out a sigh of relief and start to tiptoe to the bathroom when you hear a sleep addled voice that you realize you want to hear every night for the rest of your life- though perhaps not sounding so hurt.

"Where ya goin', Belle?" He asks, his sleepy eyes somehow still betraying quite a bit of anger.

Your answer is briefly caught in your throat as you frown. "I have to use the bathroom. I'm not- I'm just going to the bathroom."

His arm tightens around the pillow as he stares you down and frowns. "Wait til mornin'."

It almost sounds like a plea, like he doesn't trust that you're going to come back. That his body that's already trying to pull him back into the land of dreams and if he shuts his eyes you'll leave him just like you did that one night. Your chest feels tight just thinking about it as you move close to cup his face, watching as he nuzzles his cheek into your hand.

"I'll be back in a minute, Elvis. I promise. I'm not," you start before bending down to kiss him and place a hand on his chest, "going to leave you. Your heartbeat's lulled me to sleep so well. I've been in such a deep sleep."

His own eyes are starting to shut again, something about your touch comforting him but he can't help the next words that slip from his mouth even if he doesn't mean them. "I'm timin' ya."

"I better get going then, shouldn't i?" You retort, continuing your tiptoe to the bathroom finally and taking less time than you ever think you have in there before coming back out to the pillow where it should be and his arms open for you to burrow back into them. His breathing's evened back out but you can't help but kiss his chest where his heart would be even as your hand moves to play with his chest once more before you fall asleep. As you're dozing off you say three little words.

"I love you."

You swear he says the words back even as he sleeps.

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis if you don't want to be tagged for this series, tell me, i mostly just went through my elvis presley taglist answers and went from there. also if i missed you in this tagging and your name doesn't look like everyone else's welcome to the horror of being one of those people who tumblr won't let me tag.

#elvis presely #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #professor presley #big daddy elvis #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley fic #austin elvis #austin butler elvis #ally writes

112 notes · View notes

thysanniia · 9 months ago

Note

Tell me about your godzilla stories I want information dumped in my brain like a horrifying Medieval medicine

Ok so this has sat in my inbox for a couple days now and I've just been mentally preparing myself for writing this obscenely long post, but I think I'm ready.

You wanna know about all of my Godzilla stories? You're sure? In way too much detail for anyone to sit through?? Ok, if you insist. Strap in, it's gonna be a long one.

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

Ok so all but one of these are my major overhaul of the MonsterVerse, and seeing as the standalone one is my most recent creation, I'll save that for last. So we start with Godzilla (2014). This was always my favourite MV film, so it was always going to stay relatively similar in my version, but more recently I've been developing thoughts about restructuring the narrative to be more framed around keeping Joe Brody alive and having the film focus on his relationship with Ford as the events unfold. Ford feels guilty for dismissing his father all these years, and Joe becomes painfully aware of just how badly he's neglected their relationship too - especially now that Ford is tied up in this whole mess, and his job as a soldier puts him in serious danger when shit goes down. I haven't quite figured out the details of how this all unfolds and develops (I struggle a lot with character writing and figuring out relationship arcs, my brain isn't exactly wired that way even though my neurodivergent brain loves compelling characters). But I have a feeling it will still end in Joe sacrificing himself - or perhaps at least attempting to? Yeah, this is still fairly new and also not my primary focus at the moment so it'll be brewing for a little while longer. Obviously all the stuff with Godzilla and the MUTOs stays more or less the same, save for perhaps a little more fun lore courtesy of Monarch as they interact with Joe more.

I am going to bring up Kong: Skull Island, even though it's not Godzilla, because it's still a part of the MV. Jokes on you though - I'm only bringing it up to tell you I'm not changing it! I think it's fine how it is, it's kinda stand-alone anyway so I feel no need to tweak anything. Maybe I'd make Kong a little bigger, idk.

So then there's Godzilla Vs Kong. Yeah, plot twist, that one's next, and it's pretty substantially overhauled. The general idea is to have it mostly focus on Kong and Jia's relationship, in a doomed-by-the-narrative sort of way, because this is Kong after all. It starts off on Skull Island, which thanks to climate change affecting the storm conditions is slowly dying. It also doesn't help that westerners have introduced diseases that are harming the Iwi. But anyway, out from beneath the island emerges Camazotz, digging up through the passageways from the Hollow Earth. Naturally, it fights Kong, and some human intervention accidentally causes it to fly away and off the island. Having a loose flying kaiju is obviously not great, but it gets even worse when its return brings Godzilla in tow. Alarmed by suddenly discovering there's been a giant ape here this whole time, Godzilla gets aggressive and Kong gets defensive, resulting in a full on fight that ultimately ends in tragedy when Godzilla inadvetently decimates the last remaining Iwi. Kong is understandably not ok and retreats into the Hollow Earth down Camazotz' tunnel. Ilene and Jia go in after him, accompanied by others from Monarch, and while they are eventually reunited with Kong, things aren't really smooth from there. I haven't developed this part fully yet, but essentially through various Hollow Earth experiences it becomes clear that this is a place where he is safer and more at home, but his guilt, refusal to leave Jia, and fear of this new place leads him to flee up a new Camazotz tunnel that leads to Hong Kong. Predictably, now back on the map he is immediately greeted by Godzilla and shit goes down. They have their fight, and Kong actually does well, motivated by his desire to protect Jia, but it becomes clear that Godzilla will just keep getting back up. He can't stay here. So, in the end, Kong lays down his axe and submits to Godzilla, and leaves for the Hollow Earth alone. It's kinda bittersweet - he and Jia both survive, and they get to say goodbye on their own terms. Plus there are hints that there might be more like him in the Hollow Earth. But, ultimately, they do still have to say goodbye and go their separate paths.

Ok so when I started writing this I didn't plan to write out a full synopsis or anything, but because that one is more of a step-by-step story I felt I couldn't properly explain it without just dumping everything. I'll not do that for the rest because their plots aren't quite as fully organised yet (and also that would make this post excessively long).

So, finally (kinda) there's Godzilla: King of the Monsters. Or, well, something vaguely based on it. I'm not even sure what I'm calling this one yet, but the main point is that it's the one with Mothra, Rodan and Ghidorah (plus Anguirus and Hedorah now too!). This one is much more preachy and focused on showing a clear message, although hopefully still with a compelling central character arc too. It's focused around how, in times like ours when the people in charge refuse to do the right things and our elders don't do enough to challenge them, it's up to us as the youth to take real, drastic action to fight for our futures. Each kaiju is related to something: Anguirus is ecocide, Rodan is war, Nozuki (lol yeah) is greed, Hedorah is pollution, and Ghidorah is climate change. Godzilla retains his general theme of being a force to restore balance - not necessarily on one side or another, but when governments fight back against him we lose our only chance of winning, and the only way we can get him back is through Mothra, who symbolises our hope and will to do right. So... yeah, it's pretty in-your-face and obviously a representation of my own feelings (did I mention that the main character is a trans girl?) but I don't think that's a bad thing. I am a little worried about whether it's possible to get everything I feel needs to be included into a respectable film runtime, I've considered cutting one or two kaiju but I feel they're important enough to keep? I don't wanna cut the kaiju that's the embodiment of capitalism's consequences (although perhaps I can just demonstrate the same thing through other kaiju?), nor do I wanna cut Hedorah because she kicks ass and I love her. But I might restructure it a little, again hence why I'm not going into the beat-by-beat plot quite yet. I'm still happy with the broad strokes of how it's shaping up though, and hopefully I'll have something more final to share soon. This idea is kinda what shaped everything else, I'm very attached to it.

Speaking of everything else, that's not all! Even though that's supposed to be the big film conclusion, at least for now, I was also inspired by Monarch: Legacy of Monsters to do a spin-off show that ties into the events, because I think it's a really interesting concept and I wanna show more perspectives than just those inside Monarch. Currently I'm titling it Monarch: Monster Hunters although that's subject to change. The idea is that it follows some people who come together to search for the truth about what's going on behind the scenes, propelled by creating the ORCA. Simultaneously, it follows someone inside Monarch trying to track down MUTOs such as Camazotz as it leaves Skull Island. Their paths converge, and the group are let into Monarch thanks to their invention, teaming up to search for MUTOs together. However, the more they learn the less they like the organisation, and in the end they rebel against it in order to protect the kaiju. You might have noticed a pattern of Monarch not really being the good guys in these lol. Very excited to include more original kaiju in this one too, which I won't spoil quite yet...

Oh, also it's gay. At least one of these was bound to have lesbians in it, come on.

I'm also toying with a second season taking place after (not)KotM. The first season would bridge the time gap between GvK and KotM, tying in quite closely to both. But the post-KotM world does leave lots of interesting opportunities, even if i initially wanted the world-ending threat of Ghidorah to be the big finale. Toying with ideas of parasites, Shimo, and even Battra... I might have to wait for Godzilla X Kong to see if any ideas for it spring from that.

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

Ok, so that's everything for the MonsterVerse, but then there's also my original Godzilla story. This kinda sprung out of thinking about Mechagodzilla, and the best way I can describe it is "Cyberpunk Pacific Rim except we're the bad guys". It centres on a Mechagodzilla pilot slowly realising that their endless battle with Godzilla is little more than a war for war's sake, a corrupt government covering for their own mistakes by trying to win a battle of their own creation despite all of the lives it costs. It's their nukes that created Godzilla, their attacks that instigate the destruction he causes, and their own war that they try to win to retain the public's support, even though it becomes clear that no blood would have been spilled if not for their actions. The pilot themselves have to confront everything they believed, come to terms with the part they played in all this, and atone for the lives lost by instead fighting the people that did this. Oh, and Ghidorah is thrown in there as a third party just to complicate things. It's fun, and I'm looking forward to developing the plot more. Currently resisting the urge to include my beloved Mothra, she'd make absolutely no sense to include but also I love her so much...

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

Anyway, if you somehow actually read all of that then you're absolutely gorgeous and I wanna kiss you on the lips (mwah!). If you have any questions or anything by all means go ahead and ask, I'm more than happy to talk more about anything you're interested in.

I might update this with future developments if they're significant enough, who knows, we'll see.

And, finally, thank you unfortunatefloweryfool for asking me to write all this out. It took, uh, way too fucking long and I should not be awake right now but it's fun to have an excuse to dump all of this. You're the best, thank you for enabling me.

And with that, thank you and goodnight :3

#i seriously can't believe someone actually asked this i hope she was prepared for the sheer amount of hyperfixation bullshit she unleashed #thysanniasks #godzilla #monsterverse #writing #my posts

13 notes · View notes

esta-elavaris · 4 months ago

Note

oh i am SO on this. 13 (i'd love to know what character you most want to write for in the future!), 14 and 15 :D

13. What's a character or ship you haven't written/drawn yet but would like to some day? I'd love to write some Game of Thrones stuff one day (Sandor Clegane or Bronn, probably) but god that's a fucking undertaking. Good news is it'll be a sensible 15.6 years before I can reasonably start another new thing so it gives me time to have a think 🫠

Doesn't help that the idea I have for a Bronn fic is one I'm not even sure I came up with - I have a hunch what I'm the idea I'm thinking of is actually a memory of a Bronn fic I read years ago as a teen, so I'd need to comb through EVERYTHING I can find to make sure that's not the case before I begin, because I refuse to begin without doing that, and even then if I found nothing I'd be worried that I just missed whatever story the idea came from, and uhhhh fuck that. But it's good to have something holding me back from my Fic Aquirement Sickness 😭

I'd also love to write a Phantom of the Opera fic one day. I doubt I could bring anything original to the fandom but I mean, I have the same fear with the Dracula fic and folk are still enjoying it for what it is!

14. Is there a character or ship you were so sure you would never write/draw but now you've changed your mind? It wasn't that long ago on this blog where I was furiously insisting to people that I would never write a Boromir fic, I wouldn't put the stress of tackling Tolkien upon myself, it was too much to attempt, there was no chance.

Anyway, HWFG just cleared the 120k word mark 🤡 (and I'm very grateful to the people who talked me into it!!)

There are other smaller fandoms that I always thought I'd never bother with just because they're so small that I didn't think anybody would read them, but you guys are proving that fear wrong and making my day CONSTANTLY with your willingness to follow me into some truly random bs 💜💜💜💜💜

15. Have you noticed your style change over time?

Absolutely!! Little By Little is my oldest fic that I don't hate, and even then the growing pains within that make me cringe a little (CTW followed it, and that's the earliest one that I still like! It marked the end of me finishing a project and immediately hating it) -- the early chapters in particular are plagued by way too much introspection (listen, I'm an overthinker, I have no concept of how much thinking is too much thinking in general).

It does also change between projects, though, I think, because I try to match the "tone" of the source material to some extent.

I also think it's really cool because most of LBL was written when I began writing daily as a rule, and that's when you really see quick and substantial improvements in my ability, so it's been a great way to measure it all!

Novel work is trickier because I get so nervous when I write it that it impacts the quality, so it's less of a linear thing and more dependent on how I feel on any given day. It's wild going back to chapters I wrote when I was worried about it and editing it from a calm mindset so that it's actually good. That whole process is most of why it's taking me so long 💀. When I finished my first draft and went back to the beginning to read (it was all done by hand, so it was a long time after I'd written the first chapter) I noticed that the first chapter was so bad and then suddenly it just? Got decent? When I found my rhythm and got over the nerves, mostly? That was a nice moment. I promptly worried the pal I was living with at the time by walking laps around her living room because I couldn't believe that it was good and I was too excited to sit down. Good times 😭

Thank you!!! 💜

Fanfic ask game

#asks #ask game

2 notes · View notes

cocrante · 5 months ago

Text

Walking the Wire

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

warning: it contains significant spoilers, please do not read it unless you have read the third book of "The Trials of Apollo". If you decide to proceed, I will not be held responsible.

summary: The dreams at Camp Half-Blood have vanished. Gentle nights embrace the campers in their hours of sleep, but just as the dreams have disappeared, so have the prophecies. For a mortal, this might not mean anything—nightmares suddenly gone, sweet nights wrapped them in the warmth of the sheets—but for a demigod, dreams are the bridge that connects them between the mortal and immortal worlds, an annoying bell that keeps them constantly on alert, and without those to disturb their nights, it was like losing their compass. But not everyone is without dreams, if "dream" this can be called, one is still allowed to travel in the dream world, perhaps out of pity and compassion of the Fates.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Saturday. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTER 3]

FOR THE SECOND NIGHT, NICO FOUND HIMSELF IN THAT PLACE AGAIN.

He couldn't refuse their invitation, if they had brought him there; there had to be a reason. In the dense darkness, he could only hear a few sounds: a sigh, the rustling of needles, the clang of scissors echoing throughout that grim, wall-less space. The son of Hades arrived for the second night before the three old ladies. Atropos raised her fragile and thin neck, looking at that young figure – still blooming – frozen in place as he looked at them. A smile, icy and wrinkled, spread across her skin; Nico feared that if she strained herself further, she would turn to dust.

The old lady raised a skeletal finger, shaking it slowly from side to side, whispering with her sweet granny voice:—"Not yet"

The dream ended, and Nico woke up breathless, as if he had been holding it in all along. His head spun terribly, he kept repeating those only two words he had heard in the dream. He should have asked them the meaning of those words, but his voice was held back, there were only a pair of eyes watching that horrifying scene from which he couldn't escape. In the dream, he was trapped. But that night, despite everything, he managed to fall asleep.

He woke up before the sunrise, leaving that cabin that was starting to feel cramped. In the camp, only a few demigods were awake enough to start the day at dawn. At the common mess hall, the nymphs were setting the table with all the delicious dishes that demigods liked. Nico only took a few things and sat at his table, facing away from the rising sun, thinking about the meaning that phrase must have. He assumed it literally meant that no one would lose their life. Not yet, at least. The Fates were just having fun keeping that person in the mortal realm. He wasn't allowed to know the face, but he felt as if that person was already at the gallows and the Fates were the guillotine. They would decide when to strike.

That thought disgusted him. The whole story made him nauseous. He pushed his plate aside, hunger had abandoned him. He was about to go to the arena alone when a pair of hands landed on his shoulders, holding him where he was, a pair of lips kissed his temple, taking away all the heaviness of his thoughts. That kiss pleasantly caught him off guard.

"Don't tell me you're leaving already" he reproached him for not waiting and now, as penance, he had to keep him company.

He waited until Will returned, with a tray so full of food that he seriously doubted the other would be able to eat it all, and the nymphs hated those who wasted food. Nico chuckled, convinced he had done it on purpose to make him eat something more substantial, and indeed, he offered him half of his stuff. The boy wasn't very hungry anymore, but he would never refuse that loving gesture from his boyfriend.

"Want to come to the infirmary?" he asked, biting into the crispy toast.

Nico looked up from his plate, Will was perfect even when he ate. It was a delight to watch him at any time of the day.

"Sure" he replied, finishing his breakfast calmly.

The day went by slowly and, without surprises, at the central pavilion, he shared the table with Will's half-siblings—in the afternoon, Kayla dragged him to archery practice, and in the evening, the demigods unleashed at the bonfire. It was an ordinary day at Camp Half-Blood, except that someone was now waiting for Nico in a dream.

It was something he couldn't escape from, he would have to see those three terrifying old ladies again that night. He said goodbye to Will with a kiss, making plans to meet again tomorrow morning.

Nico entered his cabin, which now looked like a horrid cell. He changed his clothes, feeling the fear enveloping him as he fell asleep, lulled by the sweet sound of the forest, transported into the same dream as the previous night.

He knew the way, he walked briskly towards the three ladies, with the weight of panic weighing on his shoulders. He stopped at the same spot where he froze every night, waiting for their arrival. A beam of light illuminated each old lady. The scene that night was different—they had a different shawl, a different life in their laps. It was less elaborate, rather simple and ordinary compared to what they had in their laps until last night: beautiful and embroidered, with golden details shining in the light, without imperfections or smudges. Atropos moved a foot, revealing the shawl Nico was thinking of. It was on the ground, crumpled up, disheveled like a dead body, his stomach turned. The old lady looked up at him again, smiling and shaking her finger as in the dream of the previous night. "Not yet" that voice repeated.

Nico woke up with sweat on his forehead and an unpleasant feeling in his throat, quickly getting out of bed and rushing to the bathroom.

The next morning, he felt like his father's shadow, and maybe he really was. Everyone at camp turned to look at that grim face, taking a step back as he passed by. Nico didn't even pay much attention to it.

He arrived at the central pavilion, where Will was waiting for him with two trays full of delicacies. Nico forced himself to smile at that gesture, apologizing for his cadaverous appearance that morning. Will was seriously starting to worry.

"I know you're hiding something from me" he said before Nico even sat down. "And I'd like you to tell me what's worrying you"

Nico lowered his gaze to the tray, picking up a red apple from the plate. The last thing he wanted was to alarm him even more, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep him in the dark for much longer. "I can't say it here" he replied, biting into the crispy, red fruit. Will nodded, agreeing to follow him after breakfast.

The mess hall was slowly emptying out, the two demigods went together to a fairly discreet place where they wouldn't be overheard by others. Will – under Nico's advice – sat on a rock, as Nico's heavy voice indicated it was something extremely serious. The son of Hades didn't speak at first, not knowing where to start or how to explain it without letting panic take hold of him.

"I've been having dreams" he began with the simplest phrase that came to mind.

Will froze, now fearing to hear the rest. "Okay" he replied, allowing him to continue.

"After your father, Apollo, left the camp, I started dreaming about them. It's been three nights that I dream about the same... people" Will was certain they weren't people in a figurative sense, he was more convinced they were someone he couldn't even mention at camp. That made him nervous.

"It's more or less the same dream, the details change, but they are always there" Nico darkened, telling that dream meant reliving it even during the day. "For two nights, they keep repeating 'not yet'" he sat on the rock next to Will's, holding his forehead that had become incredibly heavy.

"Nico, who are you talking about?" Will regretted that question, it was as if a part of him already knew, yet he didn't want to believe it.

Nico said nothing, he looked up into Will's bright blue eyes, wanting to bask in that innocent face for a moment, then raised two fingers, moving them as if to make the scissors sign. Will's eyes widened, feeling as if he were petrified.

It was as if the world had suddenly folded in on itself, all the bright colors of the bay were sucked in, everything collapsed.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner" he closed his eyes, feeling all his guilt fall on his shoulders. "But if I didn't tell you, it's because—" he stopped with the words, looking at that dull sky in his boyfriend's eyes, he couldn't pronounce it, let alone think about it. Since he was told that Apollo had made some oath on the River Styx, Nico had continued to have the same pounding thought in his head. The gods are not able to keep promises, they are famous for forgetting the word given, even if it meant suffering the wrath of the River Styx. Obviously, this bounced off the gods, ending up drastically affecting those around them, sometimes striking their own children.

Nico told himself that the Fates couldn't be so cruel, he hoped they held some mercy even though he himself was the son of Hades. They had taken everything from him: his mother, his family, his sister, they had given him in return an unhappy life spent in darkness, and now they couldn't take away that one ray of sunshine that illuminated his days. Will took his hand, intertwining his fingers with his.

"Nico, it's okay it was just a dream" he smiled, even though those words sounded like a lie.

"No, it's not okay!" he stood up suddenly from that rock, furious with that malignant fate.

"The Fates are mocking me, children of Hades are not allowed to be happy. Look at my father, look at me" tears ran down his face.

Will stood up to stand by him. "Look what they took from me" the boy took his hands, reminding him that he wasn't alone anymore. "Will, I couldn't stand to see you..." he stopped, the words choked in his throat. It was something he dealt with every day, it was part of him, but at that moment, he didn't want it to touch Will.

The son of Hades was surely not good with feelings, he was a disaster with words. Where Hades passed, nothing grew anymore, and nothing grew where his children passed either. Yet he had managed to make a new love blossom from nothing, and he would fight for that love with all the means at his disposal.

"You know" Will approached him, pushing his hair away from his eyes. "If it weren't so macabre, it would almost seem like a declaration of love" they both looked at each other for a second, bursting into laughter. Will had this power; he could bring the sun even in the darkest moments. "Maybe it was" he played along, relieved of that burden that had weighed on him for three days, and stripped of that pain, he kissed Will on the lips.

They stayed at the bay for a while, enjoying each other's company. Playing shyly with their fingers. Surely, Nico wanted to remember the two of them like that: sitting at the bay, hands intertwined, talking about anything and everything.

prologue

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7

↬ masterlist

#🖇️ : fanfiction #walking the wire ☀️☠️#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #riordanverse #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fanfiction #camp halfblood

4 notes · View notes

greatideas-badwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Worth The Risk: Chapter 8

"What did you do to that girl?" Itachi hissed at his younger brother as he helped him upstairs and into his room so he could rest. "She looked like she was waiting to be hit! Tell me you haven't been-" "I haven't laid a hand on her."

Sasuke was angry enough at himself for intimidating that poor woman to the point that she all but cowered before him in the kitchen just then; he didn't need Itachi to join in.

"Then why did she act like that?"

The younger sibling sighed, standing with a hand on his forehead to rub his temples with a furrowed brow and a frown, "I haven't touched her, but I haven't been…treating her all that well…either…."

There was a long pause before the recovering man asked, "What's going through your head right now?"

'Itachi's the only one I can tell about this. Anyone else might try to use it against me.'

So, Sasuke told his older brother everything. He explained how confused Sakura made him feel and how his perception of her had changed after last night. He even admitted his regrets: "You saw how scared she is of me. I don't know how to make it…better, y'know?"

"You understand little about forming true bonds with someone."

The younger brother nodded but said nothing. He didn't want to say anything because the topic of how Itachi knew about such things might arise. You see, he was twenty-eight, six years older than Sasuke, and had married his high school sweetheart, Izumi, at twenty. The woman was no longer among the living, and the fact would likely forever be a sore topic for both Uchiha brothers.

'Don't dwell on that right now. It'll only get you worked up.'

"I don't want to form any bonds with Sakura, and you know why. That's the problem. How do I do this without letting it get to that?"

Itachi frowned but understood. After pondering, he sighed, "You want to figure out why she's different, right?"

Sasuke nodded.

"Then maybe you should try being her friend. Plenty of people try hooking up and return to being just friends."

The younger brother crossed his arms, leaning against the dresser with a glare, "I don't have female friends."

"There's a first time for everything. Just get to know her a little better."

After receiving a little more advice from Itachi, Sasuke left so he could rest, wandering back downstairs to work on his school assignments in the kitchen while Sakura cooked. It'd become normal for them to be in the same room because it made her feel safer, and the Uchiha man didn't mind anyway. Even if she still feared him, she did so the others to a more substantial degree.

Upon noticing his arrival, the woman clicked off the video on her phone she'd been watching while cooking, pointedly refusing to look his way. Sasuke sat there, his laptop open and an assignment pulled up to work on, but he couldn't stop glancing at Sakura every few seconds.

'I bet her parents taught her to cook while growing up.' Everything the woman prepared for the Akatsuki house was delicious, never bland or improperly cooked.

He watched as she placed a lid over the pot of whatever she was preparing and froze. It was evident she had nothing left to do but let it simmer but didn't know what to do since his gaze was on her.

So, Sasuke averted his eyes to the laptop screen but decided to take Itachi's advice and try actually talking to the woman, "How's your hand?"

"It's fine," she paused before asking, "Would you like a drink?"

The man looked up to see her gazing into the fridge with a pout. Smirking, he said, "Only if you'll have one with me."

Though hesitant, Sakura opened two beers, sitting beside him and handing one over. He lifted a brow at the poorly masked disgust on her face but said nothing, 'Why drink it if you don't like it? Fucking weirdo.'

"I'm sorry about earlier, with your brother. I couldn't tell what you wanted, so I panicked."

"Don't do that anymore." Sasuke cringed. The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

'I wanted to carefully approach that topic, but I just came out and said it.'

"What?"

Sighing, he glared at his laptop screen, not really seeing it, "You don't have to get my permission to talk if someone else is speaking to you and stop cowering like I'll hit you or something. People are getting the wrong idea."

"Oh," she said softly, "I thought you wanted me to-" "You thought I wanted you to stop mouthing off like you used to? Don't be dumb. Why do you think I hired you? It's more fun when you fight back."

'Damn, I sure am on a roll with saying things too bluntly. She's probably confused as hell. …Fuck it.'

Sakura looked as baffled as he expected when he finally looked at her face. She frowned, pretty green eyes narrowed suspiciously, "I didn't come here to have fun. I came here so I wouldn't have to sleep on the streets, and so I'd have a steady source of income."

'That is so like her.'

Sasuke smirked, tilting his head and feeling a little less tense since she responded honestly because she hadn't in more than two weeks, "This isn't the type of job where you have to keep work and play separate, y'know." The pink-haired woman blushed prettily, sending a wave of satisfaction through him.

She struggled to respond, so he added, "Just don't mouth off to anyone but me, or it'll be bad. Got it?"

Her confusion was still intense, but she cautiously nodded, "If you're just saying all this because of last night, you don't have to. That's not why I helped Itachi."

"I know, Sakura," his smirk fell as did the light-hearted aura, "Listen well because I won't fucking repeat it."

His eyes narrowed on her before he groaned and averted them to the computer again. Being honest with people about his feelings was very out of character, so he found it difficult, but he had to at least try, "I didn't realize it until last night, but I've obviously been putting you on edge all this time. I'm trying to give you a damn apology, okay?"

Sakura took her time coming up with a response, "I accept, but, um…if you're saying this because you're hoping I'll, uh…."

"It's not like I'm gonna fucking force myself on you, so relax. What kinda guy do you take me for?" He met her eye again, glancing at the kitchen doorway to ensure no one was eavesdropping, "Just…. Talk more and cry less, and I'll be less of a dick. Deal?"

To his surprise, a small but cute grin met her lips, and she nodded, getting up from the table to stir whatever was cooking on the stove, "Deal."

'This is….unexpected.'

Sakura was currently in the kitchen with Tobi, making all kinds of Christmas treats. Her brow twitched in annoyance as the man spoke about who-knows-what without end. The event at the house this evening is a holiday party, something the woman never expected to encounter around such serious and stoic people.

Sasuke was out working, or so he said, and Itachi was sitting at the dining table reading a book with a blanket over his shoulders as he continued to recover from his bullet wound. "Tobi, can I ask you something?"

She'd had it. Her patience had run thin, and she was millimeters away from losing her cool.

The bubbly man-child faced her, a comically frilly apron over his clothing, "What is it, Sakura? Do you need help with the cider?"

"I, um, well…." She feigned being bashful, surprising even herself with her acting, "I'm ashamed to ask, but there's no one else I can count on. Is it okay?"

The black-haired man's eyes lit up, and he nodded excitedly. Of all the people in this house, he was the only one she felt she could successfully manipulate.

"I'm embarrassed, but can you run to the store and buy me some," she lowered her voice to a whisper, even putting a hand up to her mouth as though trying to block Itachi from overhearing, "lady products?"

A blush met Tobi's cheeks, and he sputtered, "C-Can't you go get them? I don't wanna."

Sakura pouted, "I would, but Sasuke said I have to stay with Itachi, and he's not able to leave the house in his condition. I'm really sorry, but can you please do me this favor? I'll owe you!"

Tobi groaned childishly, taking off his apron and stomping out of the kitchen, "If anyone makes fun of me, I'm blaming you!"

"Thank you! This means a lot to me!" She called softly after him, grinning with a sigh once he was out of earshot.

"I thought he'd never leave. I was beginning to develop a headache," Itachi mused, giving the girl the slightest hint of a smile when she looked at him in shock.

'I totally forgot he was in here! He won't tell Sasuke about this, will he?' Sakura paused, taking back her words, 'No, I don't care if he does. Sasuke said he wanted me to stop being so submissive. I'll yell at him if he says something to me about it.'

Turning back to the stove, she hummed to herself while stirring the cider again. Truth be told, the woman loves the holiday season. The lights, music, and cheerful aura made her feel warm and nostalgic for her childhood years spent celebrating with her grandparents.

Sakura wanted to make cookies, cider, and gingerbread houses but thought even asking to do such a thing by herself would be frowned upon here, so she hadn't. When Sasuke led her into the kitchen and told her her duties this morning, she couldn't hide her elation. The man seemed to find it funny, making some off-handed comments about how she really was a woman, after all.

"Will you be visiting your family for the holiday next weekend?" Itachi asked, not looking up from his book.

"Actually, no. I…."

He looked up when she struggled to formulate a believable lie.

She panicked, spitting out the first thing that came to mind, "I don't have anyone to go back to."

It wasn't a complete falsehood. Her parents knew what her ex had put her through. They found out soon after she moved in with the man and came running home weeks later with a black eye.

'They didn't do a thing about it. No, they told me I shouldn't have angered him like I had. That it was my fault.'

A few more times over the years, the woman had tried asking them for help, even so much as loaning her the money to get a restraining order, but nothing came of it. They were the last people she saw in Konoha before leaving. It'd been her final attempt to make them see reason, and it failed. She vowed after that that she was an orphan because no real parent could watch their only child suffer for four years without lifting a finger.

'I know why they said and did all those things, but that doesn't excuse it. If they needed my help, I would've done everything possible, no matter the cost.'

Her family is as poor as poor comes and always has been. When she was two or three, her father invested almost all of his life savings, including his retirement fund, into a company that a financial advisor recommended. You can probably guess how that ended up.

So, when her ex-boyfriend came along, hailing from an abundantly wealthy family, they urged her to accept his invitation to live together right out of high school. It'd be cheaper on them because they'd no longer have to cover living expenses for her, and the man paid their mortgage every month as a sign of respect.

'Yeah, that's what he called it, but really, he was bribing them to keep their mouths shut if and when I came home for help. It worked, too.'

"Sakura? Are you alright? I'm sorry if my question made you uncomfortable. I won't bring it up again."

She snapped out of her daze, waving a dismissive hand and facing the stove again so he couldn't see how pale her face had gotten, "No, it's my fault for spacing out. You did nothing wrong."

"Holidays are painful for me, too. There's no need to deny it when we're the only ones here," he said with a sad expression.

'He's a completely different person from his brother. I wonder why that is.'

"You can, um, tell me about it if you want, but you definitely don't have to if you're not comfortable."

"Come, sit."

Sakura poured them each a small cup of the freshly made apple cider and sat across from him at the table.

He looked into the mug with a faraway stare as he began speaking, "I was married before. I'm not sure if you knew that."

The woman's eyes widened, "I had no idea!"

"Yes. Her name was Izumi. We met in middle school and became best friends. We confessed to each other on the day we graduated high school, dated for a few years, and married when we were twenty."

"That's really sweet," Sakura commented, but she didn't say anything else because Itachi had used the word "was", meaning Izumi was no longer his wife or had passed away, both being complex discussion topics. 'I'm not sure why he's sharing this with me, but it makes me a little happy that at least one person in this house is opening up.'

"As you've probably guessed, my wife died. We were both twenty-two at the time." 'I knew it,' Sakura thought sadly. She bravely reached across the table to rest a comforting hand atop his. He gave her a grateful smile, continuing with his story, "On Christmas Eve that year, we were on the wrong side of town, and I left her in the car while I ran a quick errand."

'I don't like where this is going.'

"It was less than five minutes, but a shooting occurred in my absence, and my wife was hit with a stray bullet."

Tearing up, the woman shook her head, averting her eyes to their hands because he probably didn't want to be stared at when sharing something so gut-wrenching, "I am so sorry."

The room fell into silence for a moment before Itachi took a deep breath and tried to lighten the mood, "Well, that's my reason for having a love-hate relationship with the holidays. I thought maybe if I shared it, you'd feel more comfortable sharing yours."

Sakura was surprised by his honesty but released his hands and tilted her head, suddenly having the urge to flee, "I'm grateful to you for being so open, but I…. I don't think I'm ready to talk about it yet. I'm sorry."

The man smiled, surprising her, "Don't apologize. It's my fault for trying to guilt-trip you into it. Sometimes I can be too nosy."

So, the woman returned to preparing the holiday treats, and soon, festive serving trays were loaded with expertly iced cookies and pastries. Apple cider, both spiked and un-spiked, was heated up and ready to be enjoyed. The house was spotless, thanks to its new housekeeper.

After setting down the final try on the coffee table in the den, Sakura jumped in surprise when Konan addressed her in an elegant, black party dress.

'She looks incredible. I wonder if I'll ever have a body like that,' she tried not to ogle at the blue-haired woman's curves but found it challenging.

"Very important guests will soon begin arriving. I've prepared an outfit for you to wear. Go upstairs and change into it. Do your hair and makeup as well. Join me as soon as you're finished, and do nothing to misrepresent this household. Do you understand?"

Sakura was too afraid to argue, so she quickly nodded and went upstairs into the bathroom, where a garment bag hung from the back of the door. Locking it, she unzipped the bag, only to pale when she lay eyes on a cute red dress.

'I'm relieved! I half-expected her to force me into a revealing outfit. Then everyone would see my scars, and I'd be humiliated!'

The dress came to the mid-thigh, flaring out at the hips into elegant waves of fabric. Its shade was darker, complimenting the pastel of her hair and the paleness of her skin attractively. It was rather low cut in the front, coming down into a "v" between her breasts, but she didn't mind that as much as she would've if it was backless. A pair of velvety red pumps were also in the bag.

After putting on the holiday-inspired outfit, Sakura put her hair in loose curls and donned makeup that suited the occasion and the rest of her appearance. All in all, she actually felt kind of pretty.

'I haven't worn makeup since the night Sasuke, and I almost hooked up because I don't own any.' She pursed her lips in the mirror, making sure the matte-red lipstick wasn't smudged or on her teeth, 'It was nice of Konan to let me borrow all of this. I'll have to thank her later.'

No matter how down a woman gets, sometimes taking time to dress up and take care of oneself can be a real mood booster. It sure lifted Sakura's spirits after becoming sad because of Itachi's wife's story.

After spritzing a dash of perfume onto her wrists and neck, the woman took a calming, deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom, only to come face to face with Sasuke, "Oh!"

They both took a step back in surprise. The man's eyes roamed over her appearance, his jaw flexed and tense, but he didn't say a word.

'Why do I feel shy all of a sudden?'

"Sorry, I'm done in here. Go ahead."

She stepped around the man so he could use the restroom, but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. Turning to look at him, her pulse skyrocketed.

Sasuke searched her face with a strange, serious expression, going as far as slightly leaning down so their eye lines would be the same height, "Don't leave my sight tonight, no matter what. I mean it."

Swallowing her nerves, Sakura blushed and looked at his burgundy dress shirt because it made breathing easier than if she met his gaze, "Konan told me to find her as soon as I'm dressed. Should I wait for you instead?"

The man paused before making a negative sound deep in his chest, "No, go ahead. I'll find you in a bit. Don't go off with anyone alone."

Sakura nodded, looking into his eyes again. They shared a silent communication that the people visiting were dangerous. He needed her to listen to everything he said tonight, and she needed him to be someone she could trust not to let anything bad happen. Then the pair parted, him releasing her wrist.

The woman placed her cold palms on her heated cheeks, a soft, high-pitched groan leaving her lips as she tried to shake off the warmth in her body, 'He's never looked at me like that before. Is it because he's worried I'll get hurt tonight? I should stop freaking out about the look in his eye and focus on where I'm going.'

Closing her eyes at the top of the staircase, Sakura said a silent prayer, 'If there's a god out there listening, please let tonight go smoothly.'

#uchiha sasuke #sasusaku fic #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku #sasuke #sasuke uchiha #sakura uchiha #haruno sakura #sakura #naruto #narutofanfiction #naruto shippuden #narutofanfic #naruto fanfiction

11 notes · View notes

celiaelise · 1 year ago

Text

I have so much unwarranted anxiety over my stupid big toe being maybe probably a tiny bit fractured. It's been a lot better lately, but it's still sensitive, like, when I accidentally bump it into things. (happened twice today) and I can't move it up or down as much as normal, even though it doesn't hurt. Tomorrow will have been a month since the injury.

Cause despite my refusal to engage in any exercise outside of my daily walking around for the last few years, the fact is that I've always drawn comfort from the knowledge of what my body is capable of, even if I don't take advantage of it, especially having grown up as a dancer. And the possibility of that being taken from me is scary. Which I guess is a fear that all able-bodied people confront when the possibility of becoming disabled rears its head. Which makes me feel kind of shitty, because how can I call myself an ally to disabled people if I'm scared of gaining even a fraction of what they deal with?

(I KNOW pain and disability are not a contest, and that I'm being very Catholic about this, but it's still how I feel :/ )

Though I've always been clumsy, I've never had an injury before that could potentially impact my mobility like this. (Just two broken fingers and a bruised tailbone.)

And then, on top of all of this, I know that none of it matters anyway because there's almost certainly nothing to be done for my foot that I'm not already doing!!

Like, I saw my primary care the other day, (unrelated, routine checkup; actually, they have been scheduling those somewhat frequently and I really ought to ask why) and the guy was like, "we could refer you to a podiatrist if you want. Just remember that's an option!" I know that wouldn't actually achieve anything, (in terms of available treatments or whatever) but part of me still wants to do it in case I can learn more about what's going on, both with this injury, and my freakish, dance-damaged feet in general. But doctors rarely understand my desire for knowledge anyway; they are all about Solutions. Which is annoying, and I'm still struggling with speaking up for myself in those situations.

Also my parents keep telling me that it's going to take forever to heal, will never completely get better, and is going to turn into arthritis when I'm older. Which is scaring me because I believe them!! They're not right about everything, but they do both have substantial experience/knowledge with health stuff and injuries, AND I'm biologically similar to them!

#anyway i need to refill like 4 of my psych meds #injury #my life #my feelings #by elise

4 notes · View notes

almaqead · 2 months ago

Text

"The Race." From Surah 23, Al Mu'minun "The Believers."

As you may have noticed Allah left a trail of tears of sort for modern day Messengers to follow. The text says "say this, Prophet..." sometimes He speaks directly to us, as if He knows our thoughts and predicaments. The number of coincidences is uncanny. I think with every reason to believe there is a great deal of real supernatural magic in these statements like the ones that follow, this one is for the people, stating emphatically, "stop wasting your lives...break free!"

23: 44-61:

"Then We sent Our messengers in succession: whenever a messenger came to his people, they denied him. So We destroyed them, one after the other, reducing them to ˹cautionary˺ tales. So away with the people who refuse to believe!

Then We sent Moses and his brother Aaron with Our signs1 and compelling proof

to Pharaoh and his chiefs, but they behaved arrogantly and were a tyrannical people.

They argued, “Will we believe in two humans, like ourselves, whose people are slaves to us?”

So they rejected them both, and ˹so˺ were among those destroyed.

And We certainly gave Moses the Scripture, so perhaps his people would be ˹rightly˺ guided.

And We made the son of Mary and his mother a sign, and gave them refuge on high ground—a ˹suitable˺ place for rest with flowing water.

O messengers! Eat from what is good and lawful, and act righteously. Indeed, I fully know what you do.

Surely this religion of yours is ˹only˺ one, and I am your Lord, so fear Me ˹alone˺.

Yet the people have divided it into different sects, each rejoicing in what they have.

So leave them ˹O Prophet˺ in their heedlessness for a while.

Do they think, since We provide them with wealth and children,

that We hasten to ˹honour˺ them ˹with˺ all kinds of good? No! They are not aware.

Surely those who tremble in awe of their Lord,

and who believe in the revelations of their Lord,

and who associate none with their Lord,

and who do whatever ˹good˺ they do with their hearts fearful, ˹knowing˺ that they will return to their Lord1—

it is they who race to do good deeds, always taking the lead."

Commentary :

I began my project the Crossroad of the Divine based on the words like those above from the Quran, which state mankind is a collegium of religious beliefs all of which are searching for a way to pay homage to our invisible and indivisible maker, what God calls the flowing water above, which is a clear way to comprehend the transparent.

I was promptly targeted for assassination attempts by the Mormons, the Republican Party, and the Trump Administration for doing so. I have been running for my life, every day, for almost a decade because of it.

This message, the one found in the Quran is lethal to people like Gordon Robertson, Franklin Graham, Dick Cheney, the Archbishop, the Pope, Donald Trump, Jerry Falwell, and others like the Assaholla who depend on those faithful to it for revenue. But what is lethal them can save this planet from certain ruin. I have bet my life on it.

That is not the point, however, the point is I am not willing as Allah told Muhammad to allow mankind to lapse a little bit and grow tired of itself before it decides to come to its senses and follow Muhammad's footsteps to their ending in a substantial revelation: about a meeting in Jerusalem between the faiths to broker and then publish the peace.

Anyone who suggests we do otherwise is apostate and an asshole is no good for us. We must not allow religion to result in misery or casualty. We are far too willing to do so. There is no lasting wealth or power in it unless we decipher God's intentions properly and repeat them one generation after the next as circumstances dictate.

Get rid of that strident old man who does not care about anything but pushing people's buttons and yours, tell Joe Biden to finally kill Donald Trump and that loser he calls his VP Jerry Falwell who lies and calls himself "JD Vance", rid the world of all the rebels and hairy apes that are turning this place into a shit hole, do what God said to do in the Quran instead.

Generations after us will call us the believers and that will be an honor. If we will just trust the Book. They too will trust it, and then... mission accomplished.

But we are in a race to finish it...time is running out for many of us and so are the final moments before the US Election before which must has to happen to save this place from four more years of hell on earth.

0 notes

soup-of-the-daisies · 7 months ago

Text

I’d also like to add that there are many types of love potions of varying intensity, effectiveness, necessary skill, and presumed cost; love potions do not seem to be a big issue in magical Britain, which means that ingredients are likely freely available (presumably more so in the 1920s); canonically, expired love potions have a chance of both intensifying and elongating the effects; and, if I recall correctly, the most expensive ingredient in all love potions can be replaced with rose petals (but don’t quote me on that).

Dumbledore’s assumption that she would’ve used a love potion instead of an imperius, or a combination of a compulsion charm and some ‘beauty enhancing’ charms (as Merope did have a wand), can make sense if we follow this logic:

One batch of love potion is made up out of multiple doses, each dose lasting about a day depending on the weight of the drinker and the ‘attractiveness’ of the giver, regardless of the type of potion;

Merope was able to use ‘cheaper’ ingredients depending on which recipe she used;

Merope made the potion in advance in the beginning and possibly had it expire by accident, thus elongating and intensifying the effects;

Merope was not the intimidating member of the Gaunts, likely appearing like a relatively innocent ‘battered’ girl, considering Marvolo and Morfin were very audible misogynists and quite violent. Him accepting a glass of water from her could be possible, because he would have not seen any danger;

Tom Sr had substantial monthly pocket money/a fund to ‘live’ off, as the only son of (what we can assume to be) landed gentry who (most likely) went to schools like Eton and Cambridge;

They lived in London during their marriage, which is where Merope stayed after Tom Sr ran;

Tom Sr gave Merope money from his account, which she was able to exchange for galleons to buy ingredients with at Diagon Alley;

She planned her brewings well.

I think it could be possible for her to be able to dose him repeatedly and consistently (provided she had some luck on her side), though it would’ve been hard and would have taken a lot of planning. Regardless, the love potion-method has always struck me as odd, partially because of Merope’s presumed lack of skill and also because of the dismissal of Tom Sr’s victimhood: there’s a glaring lack of acknowledging he’s a rape victim in the text. He’s stated repeatedly as someone who ‘abandoned’ his poor wife and unborn child, which in the case of love potioning (The Magical Date Rape Drug) would be a valid way to go about it. Especially if Merope wasn’t yet showing, and therefore could’ve been lying and potioned him again to keep him trapped based on whatever horrified reaction he may have given.

I did dismiss it, considering I know how fancy-pants, arrogant rich boys tend to think about women (Merope was far from a classic beauty, and was shy at that; it would’ve been a one-and-done had it been consensual on both sides. No marriage or sudden elopement). It makes sense to me that there was at least some magic involved, be it through a talent Dumbledore dismissed because of Merope’s awkward use of magic in the Ministry Official’s memory (or the Gaunts’ refusal to send their children to Hogwarts), or indeed a love potion.

It’s very well possible that Tom read his father’s fear of magic as disgust too—as it’s how Tom would’ve experienced reactions to magic, having been a powerful magical child in a non-magical, religious orphanage. Additionally, fear and disgust are not mutually exclusive, and Tom’s own view (that of his father abandoning him and Merope) can very logically lead to him concluding his father was not drugged or magicked into the relationship (with Tom Sr also not really realising what happened to him, like has been mentioned).

Additionally… I have a hard time fully taking anything Voldemort says in the graveyard as hard fact, considering he’s in front of his bigoted, pureblood, muggle-hating cronies as he gives Harry the speech. He would not present his “filthy muggle father” as a victim, even if he may have disregarded that when he murdered Tom Sr and Mr and Mrs Riddle. His leadership hinges on believing the lie: why would he be fully truthful to his enemy, in front of his followers?

Regardless, it’s inherently a very tragic, rather awful background story of adults being victims as well as failing to protect the next generation. I did not, at any point, like Merope in the memories, though I did feel for her and her situation: mainly because so much focus was on her as the abandoned pregnant girl, rather than the man she presumably drugged and raped and the abused child that resulted in that action. I do think it’s very interesting to see how we can make more sense of it though, both with and without the wild theory Dumbledore gave Harry and the (probably) biased perspective that Voldemort offered, and I’m glad that we can have these kinds of discussions!

Are we sure Merope actually used a love potion?

I think it’s weird the Dumbledore assumes Merope used a love potion.

She had no money to buy it or to buy the ingredients. The only thing she had of value was the locket and we know she didn’t sell that till much later. She didn’t even know much about the outside world so she would have had trouble finding where to go to acquire it or the ingredients needed to brew it herself. Plus making love potion herself would be very difficult when she’s had no access to education.

Out of universe JKR is using Dumbledore to info dump what happened. But in universe he has no evidence that she used a love potion and using a magical compulsion spell of some type like the Imperius Curse makes much more sense given the resources she had at her disposal. (Even though I really love the symbolism of the love potion for thematic reasons).

It’s also possible (if unlikely) that he did just run away with her and then leave her in horror when he realized what she was. (Or she could have used magic to make herself seem more appealing or even to impersonate someone else to get him to run off with her.) Voldemort himself seems to believe this because he talks in books 4 and 2 about how his father abandoned his mother when he learned what she was. I don’t see a reason for him to lie about this since it would look better given his cause to say that his mother came to her senses and left her muggle lover. Of course, he’s probably partly projecting his own experiences of rejection in the Muggle works due to his powers onto events. And he also may not know the truth about what happened. Or he does know and Dumbledore got it wrong.

#merope gaunt #tom riddle sr #tom riddle #voldemort #hp meta

255 notes · View notes

slightly-smarter-nat · 2 years ago

Note

What about a Natasha Romanoff X female avenger!R where Natasha has constant nightmares and has a hard time falling asleep. Then one night she finds R in the compound living room watching TV or something cause R is a night owl or just hanging around, so the red head joins her. It’s going great and Nat starts to relax but then R starts giving signs of heading to bed but Nat prolongs or suggests other things to do like have tea, watch a movie, braid hair, paint nails, anything she can come up with to not let R leave her alone and having to go back to sleep in fear of the nightmares coming back. Eventually R catches on what’s happening and asks why Nat is not letting her go to sleep and the Russian confesses, feeling guilty for keeping R from going to bed. But then R suggests Nat sleep in her room, like a sleepover, and by the end feelings are confessed! Sorry for being specific!! You write Natasha so well and on point!! I always love seeing (reading) this soft side of her!!

Favourite Person || Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, mention of trauma, mentions of the Red Room, explicit language. If I have missed any warnings, please let me know.

Word Count: 5127 words.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request Anon, (I’m so sorry it’s late). To the anon that requested this fic, if you are not happy with it and would like me to re-write it, I will happily do so. I hope you all enjoy! Please note this is an au so some character’s behaviours may be different to what is expected.

Please do not repost (on here or any social media platform), copy, translate or take ownership of my work. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3.

Masterlist

****************

Favourite Person: Natasha Romanoff-

“No, no please- just let me go!”

The somewhat delicate yet rasping sounds of pleading whimpers of desired escape fill the momentarily still bedroom belonging to that of Natasha Romanoff.

Desperate intakes of air in combination with mind numbing struggles against a dream-like battle that she fails to overcome each night she’s graced with even a substantial set of hours to sleep, plague her traumatised mind.

With one final desperate gust of air surging through her windpipe, she forces her now awakened self up from the sweat-tainted mattress that supports her body.

Glistening, tear-filled eyes frantically roam the features of the room as Natasha scans her environment for any potential intruder destined to cause harm to her.

With a soft and grounding clutch to her Anchor shaded comforter, she concludes that she’s safe for another night; and that her wicked past has once again robbed her of another night of a peaceful and yet craved slumber.

Natasha can’t help as her hands roam her heated skin, having the urge to fidget as her mind fails to come down from the relentless period of memories belonging to that of the Red Room- ones that she would be ever so quick to forget if she was given the opportunity.

Knowing any further hours designated to sleep were off the table, Natasha leans her trembling body over to her bedside table- hoping to deliver herself a well needed drink of water to not only lessen her now dry throat, but to have the calming effect needed to slow her rapidly pacing heart rate down.

Much to her dismay, as she grasps the hardened plastic cup that once held a heaped amount of water in it; she soon realises her cup is now empty.

Having had her right to drink forfeited, she releases a gentle breath of frustration, alongside a string of Russian curses at the continuous, nightly bad luck that seems to be lurking its way to her recently.

One night she hopes she can have a dreamless sleep just to gather up enough energy to carry out her duties as an Avenger, and to stop her waking mind from reliving the nightmares from the night before. Though that seems like too much to ask.

Refusing to re-enter her nightmares once more during the nightly period, she sleepily hoists her body out from between her sheets. Ensuring she gives herself a moment to steady her breathing before leaving her darkened room.

Knowing she is ready, she quickly swipes her empty cup from her bedside table and ever so quietly makes her way to her bedroom door; taking extra care when turning the doorknob to exit the room with as minimal levels of noise as possible. She’d hate herself for disturbing any of her teammates with her late night adventure to the kitchen. Just because she can’t sleep, why should they pay the price in losing sleep also?

Little does Natasha know, one teammate in particular would lose countless hours of sleep to ensure the redhead was safe and secure in any situation- especially when her haunting dreams take their toll.

As Natasha makes her way through the narrow pathways leading to her desired location; she picks up a little tune on the side of her cup, allowing her nails to tap mindlessly against the smooth surface. Hoping her mind chooses to focus on the range of movements needed to continue the repeated pattern, opposed to the horrors lingering from within.

That is until her ears pick up on muffled voices coming from the living area of the Compound.

Natasha’s entire system freezes; in her sleepy and somewhat confused state of mind, her thoughts rush to the most terrifying conclusions:

The voices could belong to Hydra members; desperate to seek and steal documents from the Avengers. It could be the Red Room, sending their final wave of untraceable Widows to finish Natasha and Yelena off, and in the process take out the Avengers.

With a vice, tight grip now on her cup, Natasha steadily allows her feet to move herself towards the noise source in a stealthy manner- attempting to gauge the seriousness of the situation and to determine how much force will be needed to deal with the potential intruders.

Natasha unknowingly releases laboured breaths, each step filling her body with a dread that she has not felt since she was a child roaming the hallways of the Red Room itself. Desperately trying to move from one room to another without being punished for stepping in the incorrect sequence or even making too much noise when she is so harshly trained to be as silent as a whisper.

As Natasha lines her back with the edge of the wall leading to the Living Area and Kitchen, she inhales a steady breath, knocking herself into her ruthless ‘Black Widow’ nature. With a hardened glare, she moves her line of sight around the corner to which her entire demeanour drops as soon as she spots the unexpected scene unfolding in front of her.

She finds you laying across the couch haphazardly as you stare at the TV screen illuminating the room in a gentle, blue hue as the muffled voices that Natasha mistakenly thought to be intruders continue- seemingly now belonging to the show that entraps your attention currently.

Natasha slowly moves closer to you, noticing more details as she approaches: like how one of your legs swings over the edging of the sofa in a careless motion as you stare at the images dancing across the screen; how you lazily place singular pieces of popcorn on your tongue in anticipation to bite down on the slightly hardened texture of the food item. Even how you carefully rest your head on your supported hand, tilting your gaze in wonderment of the information being gathered from the show of your choice.

She can’t help but stare at you in awe, finding it highly difficult to recall an instance where she has known you to be so calm and collected. Even being in your presence has removed some of the tension that had been built up in her muscles since she woke up from her nightmare.

She must admit, she’s relieved to find you of all people out here. Out of all the members of the team recently, you’ve been one of the only ones who can effortlessly put a smile on her face- something she is in desperate need of in her current state.

Having the overwhelming sense to join you, she chooses to clear her throat, snapping you out of your TV trance once you register her presence.

You quickly reach for the TV remote and eagerly press down on the mute button as you go to speak to Natasha, “Oh, hey, sorry did I wake you up?”

Natasha quickly shakes her head, “No, I just- I wanted some more water. I didn’t expect anyone else to be up so late.” Natasha silently scolds herself for her awkward stuttering for an answer. Though she knows she’s not quite ready to burden you with her night terrors, part of her feels the added weight of keeping the anxiety surrounding them in once more.

You push yourself up from the couch with a slight groan, having been in the same position for several hours straight, “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m more of a ‘night owl’ than anything so usually I watch my shows in my room but my TV is busted. Tony said he will fix it for me tomorrow so this is more of a one off.” You say as you gesture to the scene around you.

Natasha takes in your words as she draws invisible patterns on her cup, “Don’t apologise, it’s nice to have some company at this time of night.” Natasha says genuinely, usually having to face the aftermath of her nightmares alone until the more reasonable hours of the morning.

“What are you watching?” She attempts to guide the conversation forward.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting Natasha to show an interest, “Oh, um Cupcake Wars.” You answer with glee.

Natasha smirks at your show choice, “Cupcake Wars? Really?” She says in a humoured manner.

You tilt your head with a narrowed gaze, “Judgment? Really?” You remark in a light manner, earning a chuckle from the Black Widow herself.

You lick your lips before you go to speak again, “You can blame Yelena for this, I wasn’t even into it until she made me watch it.”

Natasha scoffs in disbelief, never having assumed Yelena would even be into shows such as this, “Yelena? My sister? The lean, mean Mac n’ Cheese loving machine?”

You laugh at her words, knowing upon Yelena’s arrival to the Avengers she was eager to let it be known of her efficiency as a former member of the Red Room and how ambitious she can be in her line of work, but to her Sister and friends, she’s as soft as they come.

“Well yes, your sister, who I happened to be paired up with on a Recon Mission in December, decided that we needed to fulfil our ‘authentic American Christmas’, by watching the ‘Holiday Special’ of this series whilst we waited for Hydra to mess up and give us intel. Ever since then we’ve watched every episode, and we can mutually agree it’s the best decision we have ever made.” You playfully put it to Natasha, knowing she loves hearing the details of how well Yelena is settling into her new life away from the Red Room- the now secure life the two of them deserve.

Natasha beams at the information, relieved that Yelena is finding comfort within the Avengers, “Thank you for including her.” Natasha simply says, extremely grateful for your kindness, not only towards her, but to her little sister.

You smile at Natasha’s words, “Of course, it’s the same kindness you showed me when I first arrived at the Compound.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at your words, “Oh, believe me, it was a hard task being kind to you. You were feral.” Natasha attempts to tease you, knowing your first impressions of each other has been a running gag in your friendship for years.

You release an exaggerated gasp at her words, “Well, we both know I had Tony as my mentor so what did everyone expect to happen honestly?! I think I turned out pretty good considering my Avenger upbringing.” You lift yourself up to tuck one of your legs underneath yourself, seemingly becoming more engaged in the conversation through excitement of having Natasha close by.

Natasha pouts her lip and nods along to your words, “Sure, sure, we’ll let you believe that y/l/n.”

You quickly pick up a piece of popcorn to throw at Natasha, allowing your joyful laughs to fill the room.

Natasha easily catches the rogue piece of Popcorn, shoving it into her mouth for good measure, before bringing up the subject she has been dreading since she engaged in conversation with you, “I guess I had better grab my drink and leave you be. Goodnight, y/n.”

Your momentarily excited features drop slightly at Natasha’s words and loss of presence, you love being in her company. Majority of the time she’s the main source of happiness you can grasp at, with having some horrific events occur from your job, it’s refreshing having that comfort person you can call your friend- that person being Natasha.

Part of you also picks up on the depressed features of Natasha’s posture; usually present when something is on her mind or after a gruelling Mission.

You fail to anticipate your own moves when you hear Natasha returning from the Kitchen area of the Compound. Before you have time to think, your mouth opens up to release your next statement, “Hey, Nat. Would you like to watch a movie or something? This episode is nearly done and I’m not quite ready to go to bed yet.” You attempt to place the reasonings behind your question on yourself, hoping that if there is something Natasha wants to talk about, that she will feel comfortable enough to do so if she feels as though you invited her to hang out with yourself; rather than her having to ask.

Natasha stops her movements at your words, a flood of relief building up inside herself at your question. She desperately wanted to ask you herself, but the nipping feeling of guilt from intrusion of your alone time played on her mind so much so that she was too afraid to stay in your company.

As the overwhelming emotion of reassurance takes over Natasha, she chooses to nod at your question; failing to hide the string of grateful tears that line her exhausted eyes and knowing a waver in her voice would give away her fear of the night.

When Natasha moves to round the couch, she can’t help but smile at your effort to clear the perfect space for her to join you.

You instantly begin a clear down of the area, removing stray pieces of popcorn that somehow fell from your grasp during your Cupcake Wars marathon. You move to straighten up the charcoal tinted pillows; fluffing them up to mimic a comforting environment for Natasha to settle in to.

Once you look over your work and determine the couch to be satisfactory for Natasha, you dramatically wave for her to sit down. To which she does with an eye roll and a laugh.

As you reach for the TV remote and settle into your previous spot on the couch, Natasha sets her cup of water on the coffee table, waiting for you to choose the perfect movie for the two of you to watch together.

Though to her surprise, you stretch your arm out towards her, handing her the remote for control of the TV.

Natasha quirks a curious eyebrow at your gesture, “Y/n, what are you doing?”

You match her curious look at her question, “I want you to choose what we watch, Nat. Pick anything, I don’t mind.” You say with a comforting smile of reassurance.

Natasha hesitantly removes the remote from your outstretched hand, studying the array of buttons decorating it, “Are you sure? This is your time to-“

You interrupt Natasha, remembering the countless times she has been refused a choice on movie night, due to Tony’s unfair system of choosing the designated movie of the night- somehow it always ends up being one of his favourites…

“Natasha, I am more than positive that I want you to choose. Plus, this is our shared time to hang out, pick anything you would like.”

Natasha stares at you for a moment longer, attempting to detect a hint of change in your answer. When she realises you’re serious in your offer, she uses the the button to scroll through endless amounts of movie titles that all blend into a colourful blur after a minute or two.

That is until her eyes land on one of her comfort movies- Moonraker.

She allows the remote’s cursor to hover over the poster assigned to the James Bond movie on the list available, determining her options on how to approach asking you if this was an acceptable choice.

You soon notice the longing of the highlighted movie choice on the screen and the conflicted features crossing Natasha’s face as she has her own mental battle.

You turn yourself to gather Natasha’s attention, “Hey, is this the movie you want to watch?” You gently ask, trying not to push her in any way.

Natasha fidgets with the remote in her hands as she ponders a response, “Yeah, it’s a comfort movie. Is that okay?” She asks you calculatedly, worried you’ll reject the idea.

You reach over the back of the couch for a blanket left behind from a previous movie night, styling it out to cover yourself, “Of course it is, I’d love to watch it with you Natasha. Put it on,” You say as you tap the open space next you, alongside a lift of the blanket, intended to cover Natasha with.

Natasha wastes no time in pressing play to start the movie as she slides across the couch and into your embrace. What may seem as a small gesture to you, is a relieving gesture for Natasha.

Not only have you granted her the comfort of her go to movie of all time, but embracing her in a warm manner heightens the idea of Natasha being truly safe within the Compound.

As the two of you snuggle into the couch in anticipation of watching the movie; all the previous, dark thoughts from earlier in the night have evaded Natasha’s mind completely.

Hopefully it remains that way.

——-

Just as the final scene of the movie commences; the end credits begin to roll out on the screen, signifying the end of the action-packed sequence.

Natasha continues to watch the screen in a dazed state, happily losing herself within the familiar scenes of Moonraker.

However, she comes back to her senses once she feels you stretch your body out from beneath her, having cuddled up to you closer and closer as the movie has played.

You quickly finish stretching your arms and legs out, you take a moment to glance at your watch and release a low whistle at the time illuminating your watch face, “Wow, 4 am already? Shit, sorry Nat, I didn’t mean to keep you up so long.” You start to push yourself up from the cushioned layer of the couch, signalling for Natasha to move up also.

As she discards the blanket aside, a wave of uneasiness settles within her. She doesn’t want to go back to bed now, she dreads to think of what horrors await her in her dreams once she closes her eyes again. She was beginning to feel safe in your company, but now you’re readying yourself to go to bed, she’s terrified that you’ll leave her alone with her thoughts.

With her endless thoughts of torment, she stares at the now blank TV in thought. You notice her vacant expression, allowing you to kneel down in front of her and gently place your hands on her knees.

Natasha jumps slightly at your touch, however she soon places her hands on top of yours to signal that your comforting efforts are welcome, “Natasha, are you ready to head back to bed?” You ask cautiously, remaining ignorant to the issue at hand.

Natasha rubs her soft hands across the delicate skin of yours as she goes to speak, “You know, we’ve still got a bit of time to hang out before the others get up. We could try some of that new tea brand Tony bought as a trial for the Team; we could watch another movie, there’s plenty of James Bond movies for you to catch up on-“

Your eyes scan Natasha’s face as she rambles out endless ways in which the two of you should stay up for a little bit longer, “Natasha-“

Natasha shakes her head as she continues her plea, desperate for you to agree with her and stay up, “Oh, I could show you how to do those Dutch braids you like in your hair. You’re always saying how much you want to learn-“

“Natasha!”

The raise in your voice throws Natasha out of her rant, unwillingly sending a pang of fear into her chest.

As you recognise the disheartening features spreading across Natasha’s persona, you make an effort to rub reassuring circles on her arms, encouraging her to relax, “What’s going on? Why are you so adamant for us to stay up?”

Natasha fails to conceal the tears that line her eyes once again, frustration making itself known, “I can’t tell you, you’ll think I’m being ridiculous.” She whispers out, not caring that you’re seeing her in what she’d consider a weakened state.

You move to sit next to her closely, wrapping a protective arm around her, “Natasha, I could never think you’re ridiculous. You’re the strongest person I know, and if something is upsetting you this much- to the point where you don’t want me to go to bed, then I want to do everything in my power to help you. I promise you, I won’t judge you, I just want to help.”

Natasha allows her tears of despair to run down her face as she looks at you, understanding the sincerity of your words. She chooses to confide in you, “Ever since I could remember, I’ve had the most horrific dreams from my time in the Red Room, and even from certain Missions. They feel so real, I hear the pain from past victims of my actions; the drilling voices of those who kept me in the Red Room and made me what I am today-“

You give Natasha the room to talk, hating the fact you didn’t pick up on her suffering sooner- though this is Natasha Romanoff, when she wants to hide something, she does so without a trace.

“Usually when I wake up, everyone else is asleep so I just wait until someone else wakes up and pretend I got up early to train or something. No one ever notices, I hide it well, just like I’ve been taught to all these years. Then tonight, you were here, and I just felt safe and secure, you just know how to make me feel calm and appreciated. I’m sorry for putting this on you y/n, I just wanted to feel safe.”

You turn away briefly from Natasha to hide your own tears upon hearing her pain, with one deep breath you move to rest your forehead on top of Natasha’s fiery red locks, “Natasha, you’re not putting anything on me okay. I mean it when I say I want to do everything in my power to make you feel safe. I understand why you wanted to stay up longer, but do you think if we go to bed in my room or something, you might feel safe enough to sleep?”

Natasha slowly lifts her head up from under yours to catch your gaze, “You’d do that for me?”

You instantly nod, “Of course I will, I’ll do anything for you Natasha.”

Natasha bites her lip at your words, never having believed she could be so lucky to have someone like you in her life, “Thank you y/n. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

You pick yourself up from the couch and hold a supportive hand out to Natasha, which she gladly takes. Once you have switched all the necessary devices off in the living area and kitchen, you guide Natasha to your bedroom, “I think I do, but you’re still going to teach me how to braid my hair right?” You question Natasha, earning a light chuckle from her.

“I suppose I can look over my very busy schedule and fit you in somewhere.” Natasha lets out, allowing the anxieties of the night to vacate her mind.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of room in your schedule for your favourite person.” You reply, mindlessly following the corridors to your designated area of the compound.

Once you arrive at your door, Natasha raises a tired yet questioning brow, “Who said you were my favourite?”

You give her a light shrug, “I just know you can’t argue with logic.”

Natasha smirks as she moves into your room, noticing the minor details scattered across the area that makes the room entirely yours, once you move to switch your bedside lamp on to highlight the features more.

Natasha stands in the middle of the room, hesitant to move anywhere without your word.

You make quick work of straightening out your bed for Natasha; hiding any loose items that are long overdue their clean up as you refuse to admit the last time your room had a good clean out.

“Okay, the bed is ready for you. I’ll take the couch-“

Natasha frowns at your words, “We’re not sharing?”

You stop your actions as you attempt to make the couch into a makeshift bed for the night, “I don’t mind taking the couch honestly, it’s… comfy.” You say in an unconvincing tone, earning an eye roll from Natasha.

“Come on, we can share the bed, I don’t bite.” Natasha says as she eagerly settles into your soft and comforting sheets.

You silently release a breath of relief, having saved your back from a rough night of sleep on the outdated couch lumbered in your room.

Once you switch off your light, you easily slide into the other side of the bed, next to Natasha. Allowing your body to relax itself into your heavenly, cushioned mattress.

Assuming the sudden silence was reserved for sleeping, you close your eyes and bask in your comforting surroundings. Until a voice fills the hushed atmosphere, “Are you still awake?”

You release a relaxed breath as you go to reply, “Yeah, are you?”

Natasha releases a laugh from beside you, “Who do you think asked you doofus.” Natasha teases.

You roll on your side to face Natasha, using the minor elements of moonlight seeping through your blinds to study Natasha’s magnificent features, “Well J.A.R.V.I.S is quite the conversationalist at night, so pardon me for being curious to whom I am addressing Romanoff.” You say in the most serious tone you can muster- extremely low severity.

Natasha smiles brightly at your lightheartedness, “Sometimes I do wonder about you y/l/n.”

You tilt your head in challenge at Natasha’s words, “Oh yeah? What do you wonder about Nat?”

Natasha’s features fall into a stoic nature as she thinks of what to say, “I wonder how someone as loving and caring as you, would willingly want to hang around with someone like me?”

Your body shifts in discomfort at her words, sensing a tone of insecurity, “Someone like you? That’s not a bad thing Natasha.”

Natasha nods at your words, “It is, y/n, I know how people see me. Some ruthless monster who’s only worth is that of being a product of the Red Room. An assassin, produced to kill without fear or hesitation-“

You abruptly push yourself up to study Natasha in disbelief, “Natasha, that’s your nightmares talking. The Natasha I know, the real Natasha is so kind, considerate and incredible. You never fail to care for those around you. Hell, I bet you’ve saved more lives being an Avenger, than lives you were forced to take under the Red Room. Natasha you’re worth so much more than a brand under the Red Room.”

Natasha looks away from you as you continue your truths, having only her nightmares confirm her greatest fears.

“Natasha, you do realise none of the past was your fault. The Red Room took you, melted your mind and melded it into something cruel. It wasn’t your fault they did that to you and it certainly isn’t your fault that they controlled you to a point where you weren’t even of a conscious mind to understand the consequences of the actions they ordered you to do.”

You gently cup Natasha’s face and instantly swipe away a pained tear escaping her eye, “You’re not a monster, you’re a hero- my hero. Nat, you inspire me to be the best Avenger I can be. You inspire so many people around the world to protect others and do what is right. If I ever hear anyone saying anything different, I’ll kick their ass.” You add for good measure, earning a dry chuckle from Natasha.

“You’re not part of the Red Room, you’re Natasha Romanoff- Avenger, Hero and quite honestly the best thing this Planet has ever given us-“

Your words of wisdom are cut off once Natasha attaches her lips to yours, fulfilling every ounce of gratitude into one delicate and addictive kiss.

As Natasha slowly pulls away, she can’t help but bite her lip in amusement at your dazed features, “You can breathe you know y/n.”

You blink extremely slowly as your mind is sent into a frenzy of pure happiness, “Um, what were we talking about?” You suddenly ask, not knowing what else to do under the current circumstances.

Natasha pulls you down onto the bed as she moves to rest her head on your chest- its rightful space, “I’m pretty sure we were talking about how you’re my favourite person?” Natasha playfully adds.

You nod along as you pull Natasha closer towards you, “Hmm, that does sound accurate.”

With a quick mumble of ‘dork’ from Natasha, the two of you settle down for a night of slumber. Finding safety and security in each other’s arms.

——-

Soft, delicate finger tipped brushes against your rib cage wake you up from your relaxed slumber.

As your eyes flutter open, they meet ethereal green irises as they study your sleepy state.

Natasha leans up to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, allowing you to release a sigh of content at the comforting gesture, “Good morning, y/n/n.”

You sleepily smile at the sound of Natasha’s raspy voice, never failing to have your heart fluttering in excitement, “Good morning Nat, how did you sleep?” You nervously ask, hoping with every ounce of your being that she was able to rest after her nightmares.

Natasha initially responds with a glamorous smile, allowing you to replicate it to the same effect, “That was probably the best sleep I’ve had in over ten years.” She giddily lets out.

You pull her into your embrace, “No nightmares?”

Natasha nods to confirm, “No nightmares.”

You place an ecstatic kiss on the crown of her head, over the moon with the possibility that Natasha may be able to escape her nightmares.

“You know, maybe we should make this sleepover thing a permanent thing?” You ask sleepily.

Natasha hums at your words, “Well, I don’t see why not. Your bed is pretty comfortable.”

You laugh at Natasha's choice of comfort, “What about the person you’re currently cuddling?”

Natasha shrugs lightly, “I suppose they’re okay, the cuddles are a bonus.”

You smile at her words, “Well maybe I’ll have to deduct the cuddle clause from the agreement.”

Natasha tightens her grip on your body impossibly tight, “Try it and you’ll see why they say my Widow Bite Stings pack a nasty punch.”

“Oh well, we wouldn’t want to test that out.”

“Nope.” Natasha replies as she settles back into your embrace.

You allow a few seconds to pass before you bring up your next question, “What if-“

“No.” Natasha says with a flick of her fingers delivered to your forehead, eager to have you sleep in a little bit longer.

It’s safe to say that Natasha Romanoff is most definitely your favourite person.

—————————

Taglist: @beefromanoff

#natasha romanoff #marvel #mcu #black widow #natasha romanoff one shot #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fan fic #slightly smarter nat’s writing #slightly smarter nat #slightly smarter nat’s requests #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha x reader #anon request #black widow x reader #avenger reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic

2K notes · View notes

clairecrive · 3 years ago

Note

Heyy:) can you write Nikolai x tidemaker reader, while Nikolai is still Sturmhond and the reader is part of the crew. Nikolai fell in love at first sight but the reader is a little introvert, but she snaps one day and confesses her love to him.

Sorry English isn’t my first language:)

Stars in the night

a/n: Hi hun sorry for the long wait. it's a bit shitty but I hope you're still around and like this x

warnings: none, fluff

word count: 2.8K

tags: @jupiterandbutterflies, @agentsofsheilds , @for-bebbanburg , @randomoutsiders , @pansysgirlfriend, @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @story-scribbler , @crowssixof , @odetostep , @lizzie-he4rts, @korol-lantsov, @subjecta13-thefangirl,@gallysonegoodlung, @a-c-lee, @mriddlemethis, @carnationworld, @thanossexual, @luvxginger, @sanna2020, @partiesandblurrypolaroids, @edithsvoice, @wafflesandschemingfaces, @snugleo, @sugarmelonwater (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

Nights were usually y/n’s favourite time of the day. Chaos and shouts left place to eerie silence and the comforting quietness of the stars. Being on a ship meant always having people around whether they were shouting or singing or playing or whatever.

Y/n didn’t mind their company per se, it’s just that sometimes, people’s presence can get too much. But whenever she felt overwhelmed, she knew she could count on the stars to anchor her and help her breathe.

After an exhausting day at sea, no one refused the possibility to sleep and recharge. So, more often than not, y/n didn’t have any trouble in taking the night shift. It actually made her even more popular with the rest of the crew.

The crew’s captain was another thing. Y/n hadn’t a precise idea on him simply because he was always up to something. Sitting still was not in his blood, even where there were no chores to attend to. If there wasn’t something to do, Sturmhond would create it.

He was such at antipodes with y/n’s personality that their interactions were limited to her assignments, her report after her shift or him updating her about his plans. Or rather- her role in them. Y/n wasn’t foolish enough to think that he really made her part of his plans. And to be fair, y/n never asked more than what directly concerned her. Maybe that was why Sturmhond was so interested in her.

There was nothing subtle about the man. From the way he walked like he owned the world, to his shiny red hair. So, when he unusually started to roam around her just because, y/n did notice. Hell, everyone on the ship noticed. It was hard not to in such a limited space.

However, y/n thought nothing of it. It was just him being his extravagant self. Nothing new, honestly. She did not mind it either. The man had a way of being there without being overbearing, which was more than y/n could say about any other men she had met. Well, all except Tolya, of course.

He had started by bidding her good morning and goodnight every day. Then he would come to find her throughout the day, to chitchat above all things. To y/n’s horror, the privateer didn’t desist. He kept coming and y/n honestly didn’t know how to react.

She had always found him quite handsome and charming, but there was something she was absolutely shit at: small talk. And the man wanted exactly that from her. Alas, it all ended up with Sturmond’s voice filling the awkward pauses and y/n barely answering his questions.

She knew in her heart that she was giving him the wrong impression and she feared that her awkwardness would be mistaken for coldness making him eventually desist. Despite her fears though, the man didn’t seem off-put by her behaviour. He kept coming and coming but that didn’t ease y/n in any capacity.

Then one night, he stopped beating around the bush. It didn’t exactly catch her by surprise, y/n knew him, it was only a matter of time before he came out with it. It wasn’t in his nature to be discreet. Or so she thought, based on what she saw.

“Why did you want to be part of my crew? You don’t seem to like me,” he wondered, his green eyes shining in the moonlight.

Despite the words that left his mouth, y/n knew what his question implied. What he was really asking. But however powerful she might be, y/n didn’t have the guts to be upfront with him. Not even with the comforting presence of the stars as their witnesses.

If only he knew.

She knew that this could potentially be a chance for her to test the waters, to see what his intentions were and to make her clear. But alas, she knew nothing about flirting. Deflecting it is, then.

“Tolya and Tamar trust you. I trust them with my life so,” she shrugged, tacitly implying that she somewhat trusted him too.

“I see. So not only do I owe them my life but also an incredible crew.”

“The big and mighty Sturmhond praising someone other than himself?”

“I only sing praise when they’re due.”

“And, of course, no one deserves it more than yourself.”

“Well, you said it darling.” He flashed her a dazzling smile that made the moonlight pale.

Y/n rolled her eyes a bit to convey her annoyance and a bit to avoid him seeing the blush rising on her cheeks.

Truth be told, Tolya and Tamar weren’t the only ones that persuaded her from becoming a part of his crew albeit they were a big part of it. She wasn’t lying when she told him that she trusted them with her life. If it wasn’t for them, y/n would probably be a soulless machine right now. Her body on the outside but really nothing that made her y/n on the inside. That’s what happened to Grisha in Shu Han.

She owed the twin everything but that wasn’t why she made the decision to join them on the Volkovny. They didn’t force her to follow them or anything. And y/n couldn’t deny that Sturmhond’s handsome face didn’t make her sway a little in her decision. That was, however, something slippery about the privateer. It didn’t make him untrustworthy per se, but it certainly made her wary about trusting him.

The biggest push that prompted her to the Volkovny and life on the sea was her experience in Shu Han. Being Grisha meant not having a safe place outside of Ravka and sometimes in Ravka as well. Her home country was war-torn and as much as y/n had been trained to be a soldier all her life, she didn’t feel ready to take part in a fight that she didn’t feel her own.

Despite his unorthodox methods, General Kirigan’s sole purpose had always been making Grisha safe. And seeing as she had seen first-hand how the world treated Grisha, y/n could really get behind his plot, not caring about how bloody it was.

Life on the sea meant no more persecutors. Outside of her crew, no one in the ports they sailed to knew she was Grisha. Not that she was ashamed of who she was, but it’d be like having a mark on her skin if people knew. A mark that made her unsafe. She craved a life where she didn’t have to constantly watch her back. And being on the Volkovny granted her wish.

Not that it was a safe lifestyle, of course. But y/n was a survivor. If she had come out of the keirgud alive, she could well out best every threat that she will eventually cross on the sea. Besides, she knew that the twins had her back. And, in a small percentage, so did Sturmhond.

She and the captain didn’t exactly have a relationship, not like the twins have. She wasn’t his confidante or anything and she preferred to spend her time on her own -as much as life on deck allowed her- but since she was such in close quarters with the twins, that definitely made her closer to him than the rest of the crew. Not to mention that now the captain had started spending his nights with her too.

Well, not all night and not every night but it was a substantial increase in his time spent with her. Sure, it was all parts of him doing his rounds at night and being his amiable self.

So why the hell did her breath hitch whenever she caught his silhouette approaching? She hated herself for feeling like this. And him. Only that she didn’t, not really. It wasn’t his fault, was it? It was just her being silly. It’ll pass, sooner or later.

Only that, of course, it didn’t. In fact, it got even worse. If before she could manage their interaction by playing aloof and uninterested, it has now come to the point where she almost blubbered. Her heart hated her, it’d beat frantically whenever he’d approach, and his intoxicating smell made it impossible to form a coherent thought.

So, y/n decided to just stay clear of him to prevent any embarrassing situation.

After that, things didn’t get weird per se. Seeing y/n alone and drifting away from most group gatherings wasn’t weird. What was though, was her absence during the night shifts.

Before she monopolized those shifts, now she took turns like everyone else.

That was the big spy that made everyone worry about her. Non though went to talk to her about it. It would have been too personal for most of the crew to ask, and those who didn’t think better of it.

The twins knew her very well, she’d come to them whenever she was ready.

The captain… well, he didn’t react at all, which made y/n think that he hadn’t noticed anything.

He very well did, though. And the sign that he did was that he hadn’t come to her anymore. He noticed her withdrawal and while he didn’t understand why he respected her decision.

That didn’t mean that he gave up on her entirely though. His research moved elsewhere; his tactic shifted from approach to observe.

It took him almost a week to be feed with this new tactic. Not only did it prove unsuccessful, but he had almost broken a limb or two in his spying attempts.

One night, the one when he knew that you had taken the shift, he shifted again to ”approach”.

“Lovely night, eh?” He grimaced as the words left his mouth. Lamest approach ever.

“Oh, captain,” y/n exclaimed, startled by his unexpected presence, “yes, indeed.” She agreed, turning back to rest her arms over the bannister.

Nikolai’s eyes shine with amusement and y/n grimaced, cloaked in the darkness of the night, she was torn between wanting to punch herself or him. Maybe both.

“Sorry for startling you. I was surprised to see you here.”

“I’m on the night shift today,” she explained even though it wasn’t needed but saints. If they had given her social skills, she would have been too powerful.

“I see. It does not happen as often,” his eyes roamed over to her face, he could only see the side facing him thanks to the moonlight.

Y/n knew what he was doing, the man was hardly subtle, but she appreciated his attempt of breaching the subject lightly.

“We all took turns; it wasn’t fair for me to hijack this time shift.”

“I’m far too smart for you to lie to my face,”

“Excuse me?”

“What I mean to say,” he sighed, regret showing on his face, “is that I worry that you might have changed your habits because of me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“It has not escaped my notice that you’ve trying to avoid me.”

“Avoiding someone on a ship is an impossible feat.”

“I’m aware,” he smirked, and something told her that seeing her trying to do exactly that amused him to no end. Y/n turned back towards to sea and said nothing. Better silence than pointless words.

“So,” it was Sturmhond who broke the silence, “want to tell me what’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem, captain.”

“Again with lying,” he chided softly. Sturmond knew y/n like the back of his hand. Being on a ship will do that. He knew then that the best way to approach her wasn’t to put her under the spotlight or in a corner.

She sighed, knowing that lying to him would not get her out of this situation. Trying to muster her courage, she turned to him.

“Alright, you’re right,” she conceded and that alone was telling since Sturmonhd’s ego didn’t need any stroking. “You haven’t done anything wrong, though. It’s me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You should because it’s true. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by my emotions and I don’t know how to deal with them.”

“So, you just run from the situation?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it running,” she mumbled under her breath. His intense stare put her even more on edge.

“Isn’t that point of living, though?” he added softly, “Feeling?”

“Maybe.”

“Amazing,” he said with an edge to his voice.

“What?” Y/n’s eyes flickered to him and the expression on his face left her wondering if he was serious or making fun of her.

“I’ve seen you facing volcras and other enemies straight on with a courage that puts to shame many soldiers and yet this is what you’re afraid of?”

“Rejections is much scarier than combat.” Abandoning every attempt of pretence, y/n went with the truth. She was already in the game, now she had no choice but to play.

“Is it?” His brow raised and now there was no doubt that he was making fun of her.

“If something goes bad in a battle, I’m dead. And there’s nothing for me to worry about if that happens, right?”

“But putting myself out there and then getting rejected, means living with the shame and embarrassment of knowing that I’m not enough.”

“Well, that’s a rather tragic take on it.”

“Joke all you want. I don’t suppose you know what it feels like, giving your shining hair and dazzling smile.”

“While knowing you think that of me brings me immense joy, I would also like to point out that you’re wrong.”

Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrow in wonder.

“Rejection takes a whole other shade of intensity when it comes from your family.” The words were said lightly but they made her breath get caught in her throat anyway.

“Is it because of your lifestyle?”

“It’s because of their opinion of me that I’ve chosen this lifestyle.”

“I’m sorry that your family is unable to see how much you shine.” “Maybe it’s because you’ve blinded them?” She tried to ease the tension and she was rewarded with a tease of a smile.

“Oh, don’t point it at me! I will lose my eyes and then you’ll throw me from this ship,” she shrieked and went to shield her eyes as if she was under the midday sun. This foolish stunt earned her the captain’s laugh. One so full and rich that left no doubt of its authenticity. It made y/n smile too and wish that he’d do that more often.

“I would never throw you from this ship.”

“What use could I have with no eyes?”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to find you something else to do.”

“Like being the ship’s clown.”

“While you amuse me to no end, I was thinking about a far more private role.”

“Private as in?”

“Meant for my eyes only.”

“Selfish much?”

“When it comes to you? Shamelessly so.”

The privateer leaned down to her, agonizingly slow giving her all the time to pull away if she wanted to. A million things swirled through her mind in those few seconds. Every worry about what was going to happen, about all the ways this could go sour.

The wheels in her mind turned incredibly fast almost making her lightheaded. Before this could turn into a full session of overthinking though, y/n shook her head effectively stopping the thoughts from growing.

Despite her lacking in basic social skills in an incredibly sad way, conversation with him always flowed easily. She never worried about what she was supposed to do or say or whatever. She could just… be. Be y/n.

That was priceless if not rare. And right then and there she decided that she wasn’t willing to lose it. Not without fighting.

Borne from the spur of the moment the best decision she could ever make, she leaned into him as well. Closing her eyes, she was able to see the corner of his lips lifted a little before she felt his lips on him.

Saints.

Did she say that she was afraid of feeling? Fuck that. This feeling, the feel of the touch of his lips on her, his fingers lightly stroking her face, his breath inside her, him becoming a part of her? She was pretty sure was going to die if she went too long without it.

Angling his head to the side, she pressed her lips on his with renowned fervour. Her hands found their way in his strands. A moan left him as y/n swallowed the sound. Using the grip on his hair, y/n pulled him to her. Sturmond gladly followed her lead, returning the intensity of the kiss before his hands gripped the back of her knees, lifting her up.

He lightly used the bannister as leverage, his grip shifting to her hips holding her so tightly so that losing her was not an option. Not now, not ever.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai reader x grisha reader #grishaverse #nikolai lanstov imagine #nikolai lanstov imagines #nikolai lastov fluff #nikolai lanstov angst #nikolai lanstov x y/n #nikolai lanstov fic #shadow and bone

748 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

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

414 notes · View notes