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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

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HASO “Evidence.”

Still working on the trial arc, and sorry I am late in posting. I had to go to work at seven and am trying to write in between helping guests.

CREDIT and a THANK YOU to one of my amazing discord community members Eddi, who has been working for the last few months on the audio visual and transcript logs seen here. I did not write them, Eddi wrote them an was kind enough to let me use them in this story. I loved it and thought it brought a lot of authenticity to the story by bringing in an outside voice.

WARNING: GRAPHIC blood, gore, and bodily mutilation. The Steel eye project development is VERY horrible, so don’t read if that is something that bothers you.

It was a beautiful day.

The sky was a bright eggshell blue stratified with only the occasional cirrus cloud highlighting the sky with a touch of distant white. The sun was bright though the temperature was moderate only in the mid eighties.

Swimmers could be seen as distant pinpoints of light and froth on the surface of lake Geneva. Voices echoed up from the city coerced mostly by the purring of hover-car engines.

Towering white buildings rose high into the sky adding height instead of width to a city that had not grown outside its own borders for the past thousand years other than to go up.

Itw as a more environmentally efficient way to build, and left the countryside untouched by the scars of infrastructure and humanity.

Adam stared out the window for a long moment wishing for the peaceful embrace of the skies and the roaring of a jet engine. A soft whimper at his leg, and he looked down to see Waffles sitting at his heel, her head tilted back to look up at him. WHen he didn’t immediately respond to her she whined again and scooted closer, her paws making soft clicking sounds on the wood flooring below.

Finally he reached down and scratched her behind the ears.

She could sense his agitation, and it was clear that she didn’t much like it.

He couldn’t blame her.

He didn’t like it either. He sighed and turned his head away from the do and he window, back to the mirror in front of which he now stood. He didn’t see himself.

The man in the mirror was tall, straight backed with sharply trimmed and styled hair, jaw squared and raised. Both eyes were green though one expanded and contracted like the appriture of a camera. The expression on the man’s face was stern and unyielding.

He looked…. Like his father.

He had never seen much of a resemblance between them, but now he could certainly see it.

It didn’t help that the stars on his uniform seemed to add an extra ten years to his age.

With a soft sigh, he pulled his captain’s cap down snuggly onto his head and whistled low for his dog.

She fell into a perfect heel at his side, and he clipped the leash onto her colla.

Her black service vest was strapped on tight with a pair of doggie saddlebags on either side carrying water bottles. Waffles always liked having a job to do, and a little extra work would help to keep her relaxed during the trial rather than antsy.

She was going to have to stay very still for a very long time for the next few days.

“Ready girl.”

Her tail thumped against the floor at his voice.

“At least that makes one of us.”

He transferred her elash to his left end, though he didn’t technically need it, and led her out of the bedroom and into the large living room. It was a lot of hotel room for just one man. He would have been fine enough with a double queen personally, but he supposed if the UNSC was paying there was no reason to argue otherwise.

It felt strange, going to a hotel on the UNSC’s Dime to testify against the UNSC in one of the biggest trials of the century.

His stomach churned.

Waffles nosed his hand.

Dr Krill floated down from his examination of the chandelier, “I admire human artistry, but pragmatism is still my preferred way of living.” he motioned around the room, “A bit opulent.”

Adam nodded his agreement, “You can say that again. I haven’t slept on a bed that big in my life.” In all honesty, he was trying to keep his mind off of what was to come. He didn’t really care about the bed and certainly didn’t know if he had ever slept in a bed that large.

He sort of doubted it, he was in the UNSC after all.

A knock came on the door and he turned reaching for the handle and pulling it open. The driver from yesterday was waiting for him, his suit pristine. He bowed slightly, “The car is waiting for you, sir.”

He nodded, and motioned the other man to lead the way.

The man nodded and thanked him, stepping down the hall and leading them down into the lobby. They got a lot of looks as they made their way down, most likely because of krill, though his uniform might have caught some attention.

He was led out towards the car and slid into the back seat, suddenly surprised to find that he wasn’t alone.

“Admiral Kelly!”

“Good morning, Adam.”

“What are you doing here.”

“I am here to witness the trial. UNSC representatives thought it would be best if some of the newer brass came to oversee proceedings.”

He quickly looked out the window, suddenly remembering which side of the conflict this was on.

A hand rested on his arm, “I’m not here to make you feel bad about your decision, Admiral. You’re doing what needs to be done.”

He sighed and nodded, “I… thank you ma’am.”

“You sure this is something you are ready for.”

He paused and then shook his head, “No… I’m not ready, and I never will be.” She went to open her mouth but he stopped her, “But I’m the only one we have, so I will do what it takes.”

The car went silent as it slowly accelerated into the early morning traffic.

It was going to be a very long day.

Admiral Kelly turned to look at Krill speaking with him quietly while Adam looked out the window.

He wasn’t in the mood for talking right now though he knew how odd that was.

His stomach continued to churn as they drove through the streets heading towards the outskirts of the city where the Geneva court had been built just over 200 years ago.

The last buildings on the outskirts of town went by and their first view of the court appeared in the car window. It was made in the classic greco-roman style with large white pillars and sloped rooftop and carvings on the top that depicted all the deities of justice ever conceived by historial religion, all cast and depicted in marble.

The thoroughfare up to the building was long and wide with a decorative reflecting pool at the center and a set of daunting steps leading up to the ornate front doors.

The grounds were meticulously kept with hedges shrub and flowering bushes, with what must have been miles and miles of water features and fountains off to the side.

It was a beautiful location, and it seemed that visitors found it a nice spot to rest while they enjoyed touring the sites.

He didn’t see much in the beauty today.

This was the UN supreme court, and the history of Geneva made this place hallowed in ways that made the court case for today all the more poignant.

The car pulled to a stop before the doors and a few gloved attendants stepped forward sharply dressed and opened the doors with almost militaristic precision as Admiral Vir and Admiral Kelly stepped out.

Waffles followed at his heels

He knew as soon as he stepped onto the marble steps that he wanted to leave, an the only thing that kept him there was the memory of those faces…. All the people counting on him back at the house, all the people who had never been given a chance to recover like he had.

He took a deep breath and ford himself up the steps and towards the front doos where a group of people were already congregating.

There were a few reporters there, without cameras, waiting to attend in the audience and record the proceedings for their news stories and daytime television. A few of them snapped discrete photos of him as he passed and was led through the wide double doors into the expansive inner hallway with a beautifully muraled ceiling and a line of decorative plants down the side.

Voices echoed inside the building, rising up around him to bounce off the marble.

The voices themselves were indistinct and difficult to understand as he made his way further into the room.

Men in suits lined the walls.

He eyed them critically wondering if any of them happened to be the defence.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he quickly turned to eye another attendant, who had evidently been trying to get his attention, “Right this way sir.”

He nodded and was led through the halls and into a nearby antichamber.

A wand was passed over his body.

“Please hold out your arm , sir.”

He did as ordered and watched as his forearm implant was temporarily deactivated.

“The room is completely radio proof, sir. No signals go in or out. If you must make a call, I urge you to take it during the court recess.”

“Understood.”

“Please step inside and sit on the second row on the right side behind the prosecution.

He did as ordered, and stepped into another wide curving room.

It was much bigger than he would have thought, two stories high with amphitheater seats, and a massive curving desk at the front where nine Geneva court judges would be seated on their entrance.

There was no jury.

The Geneva court judges would be the jury for trial at this time.

Law practices had changed a lot since world war III but there was still some semblance of the old ways that still lingered on.

He took his seat, waffles grumbling softly as he slid onto the ground beside him.

Two people in suits followed him inside one in a dark blue suit and brown shoes, the other in pinstriped balck.

The one in blue was a woman, dressed sharply, her hair pulled back into a bun so tight you could have strummed out a tune on the hairs. She paused next to Adam and held out a hand, “Admiral Vir, we spoke over the phone.”

“Ms. Trevor.”

She nodded and motioned to the man, “And my partner Mr. Jackson. I trust you understand your purpose here today?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Jackson lifted his head, “Our case here is solid, admiral. This case isn’t about who is going to be punished for what happened, but about how long they will be punished, not to mention it is likely to set up some new legislation for the ethical creation and use of military hardware. Once we are done, something like this is unlikely to ever happen again.”

He wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, but he nodded and let them take their seats in the desk before him.

Waffles whimpered and prodded at his hands with her nose.

He stroked a hand over her big pointed ears.

The courtroom filled up within the next hour, and, Looking across the room, he saw a line of men and women sitting on the second row of the defence. Something about them put him on edge.

He had a feeling they were the scientists.

They were the ones who had developed the steel eye armor.

“All rise! For the honorable Geneva court judges!”

The entire room took to their feet as the nine judges filed out of a back chamber and stepped onto the floor. All of them wore traditional black robes with white collars as had been tradition for nearly thousand of years. They took their seats with a mass shuffling.

“Please be seated.”

The room shuffled back into place.

The head judge,at the center of the table leaned forward.

“On this day June 24, 4024 we open the Geneva Court case of The People VS UNSC Biomechanics Division. the court will begin by hearing opening statements from the council.”

Council for the prosecution stood, shuffling her papers once before stepping up to the lectern.

“Honorable judges and members of the court, today we are here to present evidence against a faction of the UNSC scientific division for gross ethical violations, torture, and pruposeful endangerment of human life. Evidence suggests over 29 killed, over 21 critically injured, maimed, or permanently crippled, and over 61 with lasting mental trauma. This is not counting over 50 Steel eye soldiers coerced without prior knowledge, into participation in the program, 30 of which are now deceased 15 of which have lasting mental trauma, and five that, while functional, still feel the effects today. Today we will be presenting, written documents, video recordings, and audio files from prior testing as well as first hand witnesses of both the testing and the war as well as expert witness from the scientist who read and compiled the files before trial. What was done to these men and women constitute as war crimes and their victims deserve compensation and closure for what was done to them.”

She stepped back from the podium and nodded.

The defence stood and made their way to the podium in turn, “Your honors, and members of the court, while it is true that some unfortunate incidents happened during testing and development of the steel eye project, there is ample evidence to prove that none of these men or women were coerced against their will into participation. All subjects were volunteer and duly informed before proceedings began. Furthermore, scientific ethics had not advanced far enough at the time to cover weather or not what they were doing was an ethical violation. The Defence is not asking for complete vindication for the accused, but the sum of what happens is surely less than war crimes.”

They took their seat.

Adam wasn’t a lawyer, but he knew which opening statement he liked more. Now maybe he was biased, but certainly he felt that one presented greater amounts of evidence than the other. Of course it was up to the prosecution to show evidence that would convince the judges, beyond a reasonable doubt, that these men and women were guilty.

He listened to some more speaking, half falling asleep and assuming maybe this would be as bad as he thought it would when one of the prosecution stepped back up to the podium.

“The prosecution presents time stamped dated and logged evidence to the court for consideration. The first testing log we wish to present is from the eighteenth of October 4016 and overseen by Dr. Tato Nkosi written as log number 23.”

Experimental Log #023:

So far we have not experimented with a human subject, All the sample tests and simulations indicate that there should be no interference with normal function nor create any feedback loops that could induce seizures. This is the first human testing that we will be doing. We have noticed that the animal testing resulted in significant irritation and irrational behavour from the subjects, We however suspect this was because they were unawares of the reason for the implantations.

The subject is unconscious for the process of implantation to prevent movement.

-recording break-

The subject reacted violently to the implant, removing it in a highly violent manner while screaming and trying to injure any nearby scientists. We expected some level of resistance, but this indicates far more sensitivity than expected. Further testing will be required.

“The council for the prosecution wishes to present the audio/visual log.” A light flickers on as a video clip begins reeling.

Audiovisual Log Transcript:

The subject wakes suddenly, seeming to be woken by extreme pain. Screaming almost instantly and scrabbling at implant on their hand and wrist. Subject seems to be attempting to remove the implant. One of the scientists attempts to calm the subject only to be beaten by the subject who continues screaming. The scientist retreats from the subject just as the subject finally removes the test implant by ripping it from the subjects skin, tearing with it the subjects local nervous system along with large sections of the subjects musculature and ligaments. Seeming relieved at the lack of contact with the implant, the subject sinks to its knees. The subject is losing significant amount of blood, though we suspect the subject is unaware of this as large sections of the nervous system is still attached to the implant. The subject appears to be in shock as it observes its ruined lower arm and hand. The subject has resumed screaming and is now trying to get the scientists attention to fix its ruined lower arm and hand. The subject is sedated and arm treated. The recording ends here.

Adam throws a hand up over his face feeling bile rise into his mouth at the image seared into his brain. Muscle and ligament dangling uselessly against a steel eye prototype. He felt a bit lightheaded but takes a deep breath in and out to calm his breathing. All around the room there are gasps of shock and disgust. A few people stand to leave the room unable to witness any more.”

The council steps forward, “This was the first log in a recorded series of proceeding logs with similar effects. We know in experimentation that accidents happen all the time, and we might have considered forgiveness if the experimentation had stopped here. Clearly implementation on human test subjects was not ready, as evidenced by the animal’s discomfort. Perhaps if they had stopped here, some measure of understanding might have been allowed. But they continued past this point with full knowledge that this sort of catastrophic event could happen. This test subject will never regain full use of his hand. Instead of stopping the experiment like hey should, the scientists determined that the use of painkillers was in order to make the subject operational. For this the prosecution calls expert witness Dr. Alexander Gladstone to the witness stand.”

On the bench to his side, a man stands slicking back his salt and pepper hair as he moves to sit in the witness stand and is sworn in.

“Dr. Gladstone, tell us a little of your credentials.”

“Of course, I received my PHD in Biomechanical interface and Engineering as well as an additional PHD in Mechanised robotics. I have worked as the head scientist for the UNSC testing division for nearly five years now after my predecessor quit. I helped to re-engineer this project under Iron eye as a step forward from the Steel eye project in a more controlled and ethical environment. I am also the scientists who reviewed these logs and compiled them for analysis today.”

“Thank you Dr. Now, may I ask why these scientists would have chosen to implement a drug dosage?”

“To understand why they had to do this, you must also understand the steel eye project itself. Steel eye was designed to enhance the strength, speed and durability of the wearer. We already have exo suits designed for use in factory and industrial settings, however the main issue we run into in a combat setting is that the machine responds too slow. The nodes detect electrical impulses from the muscles and then have to fire following that meaning the subject has already begun moving almost seconds in advance of the machine. Steel eye was created to integrate the machine directly into the body to intercept nerve impulses before the muscles even fire, thus making the wearer faster, and the augment making them stronger. To do this you have to make a direct interface with the nervous system. They first implemented small microfivers which would wrap themselves around the nerves in question to detect electrical signals. These were designed to cluster primarily along the spine but have additional nodes in the major muscle groups. However, direct stimulation of a nerve or nerve cluster sends signals to the brai nthat are interpreted as…. Unbelievable agony, which is likely the agitation that they were seeing in the animal test subjects. However, with a high enough drug dosage, you can mitigate these effects, or distract the brain enough to keep the wearer functional for some time.”

He sat back in his seat.

“And in iron eye, how did you get around this problem?”

“Subdermal implants that do not require direct contact with the nerve endings themselves.”

“And does Iron eye cause any significant damage to the wearer?”

“No sir, the only danger is an infection of the implants, but that is with almost any implanted medical devise.”

“The subjects have no pain.”

“A general soreness that goes away within two to three days.”

“So in my understanding it is clear that there were alternatives to their original course of action. They could have pulled back and tried to implement a way to mitigate the pain rather than mask it with drug dosages?”

“Certainly.”

“But that isn’t what they did.”

“No.”

“The prosecution presents Transcript 27 to the court for viewing.”

Experimental log #27:

We have begun testing various drugs to suppress the pain, this test is with acetaminophen, commonly referred to as Codeine.

As per usual the subject was implanted while unconscious and atop this it was given a high dose of codeine prior to it awaking.

-recording break-

It appears that while the subject was capable of withstanding the pain from the implant for a longer period of time than our previous subjects However the subject clearly seemed to suffer increasing mental instability as the sensations returned, culminating in the subject violently trying to destroy the implant. Learning from prior experiments and in an attempt to reduce harm to the scientists, the subject was left alone while it was in this state and no attempt was made to aid the subject.

Adam turned his head away unable to stomach what was coming next. His hands were sweating terribly. He felt cold and weak. He had seen horrible things in war and in his time, but watching this… .watching steel eye. It was just too much.

His mouth had gone dry, and his skin was hot as if he had a fever.

The dog nosed his hand but he barely acknowledged her.

Audio-visual log transcript:

The transcript begins once the Codeine begins to wear off.

The subject begins by itching at the area around the implant, the reaction is far less violent than the prior subjects. After several minutes of ever more irritated scratching and aggressive tugging at the implant and plaintive noises the subject began to violently bash the implant against the wall. Growing ever more violent with the abuse of the implant. This continues till the test implant is mangled and ruined with the subject pulling the mangled chunks of metal off their skin, this however seems not to alleviate the subjects pain and irritation. This is likely due to the destruction of the implant not removing the interfacing needles The subject continued to scratch and pull at its skin, the plaintive noises slowly becoming screams of pain. This action continued without interruption from the scientists till the subject had torn most of the skin of its arm and taken chunks out of its musculature, the subject finally passed out from pain or blood loss after several minutes of self mutilation.

The room spun around him, and he took a few long, deep breaths hoping that it would stop.

He wast sure he could survive another few hours of this.

He wasn’t sure at all

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tweepunkgrl · 4 years ago

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come and get me

I’ve been reading “Conversations With Friends” by Sally Rooney and I just been itching to write. Hopefully no one is put off by the first-person narrative. Title comes from a line from Sally Rooney’s book.

also helps to listen to “speaking terms” by snail mail to feel the angst

Rated T for Teens

I had my glass of ice-cold white wine pressed to my cheek, cooling my skin and possibly ruining my makeup. I was in a sort of daze, standing in a tiny corner away from the rest of the party. No one noticed me, though, and if they did, they didn’t give me much thought.

Jason wore an easy smile as he talked to many of the guests at the party. There was an air of casual ease to him, even though I knew he despised these sorts of events. But he was very good at pretending. He had a glass of champagne in one hand and Rose Wilson’s hand in the other.

I took a long swing of my wine, letting it relax my insides and blur everything. Things are better to handle when I can’t feel anything at all.

A waiter with a tray passed by and I gave him the empty glass so I could find another one.

“Raven,” Kory greeted me cheerfully as I approached the buffet table. “How are you? You look well.”

I managed to smile at her as I reached for a handful of shrimps. “As good as I’ll ever be.”

It was meant to sound funny, but it came off a bit self-deprecating.

“You look lovely tonight,” Kory looked down at my dress, and I followed her gaze.

It was a burgundy crushed velvet dress that I found in a thrift store. The neckline was wide and showed off my shoulder blades with sleeves that ended at my elbows. The knee-length skirt swayed with each subtle movement, and it made it fun to twirl around.

I kept my hair down as a way to keep the look simple, though I opted for my usual black eyeliner and pink blush. None of the various shades of lipsticks went with the dress, so I didn’t wear any. Sure, I wanted to look amazing, but not as though I was trying.

Jason could read me like a book. I didn’t want him to be onto me. But it wasn’t like he was paying me any attention with Rose beside him.

“Thanks,” I said. “I like your dress, too.”

Kory smiled widely. “Are you having fun?”

I shrugged, determined to my pull my facade of not caring. “Oh, you know, these things aren’t really my thing.”

Kory’s shoulders seemed to relax, as though she was holding something in and my words somehow alleviated her. “Honestly, me neither. I’m just here as Dick’s date.”

We stood there idly by the food, a glass of wine in each of our hands, watching people as they socialized. When Kory’s gaze was preoccupied, I chanced a glance over my shoulder and found Jason talking lively with a group of young rich men, all possibly from the same fraternity. Rose was nearby, talking to a group of beautiful women who seemed like they had their shit together. They were probably the girlfriends of the men Jason was conversing with.

I might have been staring at him for too long as he lifted his green eyes and found me. My body froze and his stare trapped me. There was nothing in his face, but his eyes seemed to bore into mine.

I quickly averted my eyes, looking down to pretend I was looking at my shoes. My hair fell forward like a shield, but I could still feel his burning gaze.

Kory shifted closer to me and said, “Jason seems to be having a good time.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak without my voice cracking, so I simply nodded.

“Have you had a chance to congratulate him?”

This time, I shook my head.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up to find him with his attention away from me. He returned to the conversation, but Rose had settled herself underneath his arm. Her smile was blindingly brilliant, with her teeth all straight and shiny. Her hair was perfectly pulled up into a chic ponytail with no strand of hair out of place.

I took a glass of champagne from the buffet table and took a long swing. If I stared at Rose any longer, I was going to feel extremely inadequate, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t need to compare myself to her. That wasn’t fair for either one of us.

I took a really long sip of champagne, and once I pulled it away from my lips, the glass was completely empty. A sigh escaped my lips and I felt my shoulders slumped.

Alcohol wasn’t going to make me feel better, not when Jason was on the other side of the room with another woman in his arms.

“I’m going to go find a bathroom,” I said to Kory. She gave me a small nod. I started walking toward a hallway, which I wasn’t sure led to a bathroom, but just knew would lead me somewhere else. I didn’t care where; I just wanted to be anywhere else.

It took me down to an empty part of the venue, one where not even the employees lingered.

I leaned against the pristine white wall and felt my muscles relax. My head fell back, and I tried to breathe in as much air as I could. My whole body felt light, but I also felt utterly empty and numb.

I wanted to feel. I wanted to be whole.

A voice came out from the darkness. “What are you doing here?”

My head rolled to the side, in the direction the voice came from. “Just standing.”

“You could do that with everyone else at the party.”

“I like doing it over here.” I was starting to feel sluggish the longer I stood there. My whole weight was resting on the wall behind me. “Nobody was bothering me until you just now.”

Jason leaned his shoulder against the wall and kicked one leg behind his ankle. “Is it so bad over there?”

I managed to meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“I invited you here.”

“And that was fucking cruel of you.”

He reached out and placed his hand at my hip, trying to pull me closer. I tried to stay where I was, but I could feel my body lose strength. I never had much of a fighting chance when it came to Jason. I was weak and I fucking hated it.

He had his arm wrapped around my waist and I went soft under his touch. “This is your engagement party,” I whispered.

Jason didn’t say anything, just brushed the tip of his nose against mine.

I shut my eyes tight, as tightly as I could. I couldn’t look him in the eye. If I did, I would lose.

His breath warmed my face and I resisted a shiver. I kept my arms to my sides even though I longed to trace his jaw, to trail my fingers upward until they were buried in his dark hair. Jason was not good for my sanity. He brought out my recklessness. He made it impossible to think, to do the right thing.

He’s getting married to Rose. And though this thing between us started long after he got engaged, and I knew what I was getting into, it was starting to hurt.

I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for him. But of course, I’m fucking dumb and started feeling everything for him. It wasn’t fair.

I forced my eyes open. “I want to go home.”

Jason nodded. “Ok, I’ll take you home.”

I quickly shook my head, though I immediately regretted it when nausea overtook me for a moment. “No, I’m going to call an Uber.”

His fingers dug into my waist. “Let me take you home.”

I brought a hand up to shove him away, taking it as an opportunity to step away from his intoxicating atmosphere. Maybe if I stood far away from him, my brain would regain clarity.

“It’s fine. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

With several feet between us, I managed to stand straight and stare at him resolutely. “Congrats Jason. Hope you and Rose will be happy together.”

With that, I walked away and didn’t bother looking back.

#jayrae #jason x raven #jason todd #raven roth

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sabraeal · 4 years ago

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In Plain Sight, Chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Written for @k-itsmaywriting‘s birthday! I hope that, despite how weird the world is right now, you have an amazing day!

Shirayuki understands how this is supposed to work. She’s seem movies after all-- Witness, of course; Sister Act 1 & 2, if only because Opa thought Whoopie Goldberg was a national treasure and Oma thought she was too young to be watching Ghost; and Our Lips Are Sealed about eight times on video cassette, since she’s old enough (and Opa resisted DVD long enough) have both VCRs and wholesome Olsen twins content as a part of her childhood.

(Her favorite formative twins were Annie and Hallie from The Parent Trap; they were red-headed, just like her, and one of them had a British accent. She’d been devastated to find out that not only were both of them American, but they were also only one girl. She’d watched Double Trouble to console herself)

In any case, she knows how this goes, at least narratively. She lays down in this amazingly comfortable bed, stares up at the ceiling in a tense yet melancholy fashion for hours, and dreams in plot-relevant flashbacks. Extra points if they reference the crime she witnessed.

The problem is: she didn’t. She’s just the unfortunate collateral to her father’s personal redemption. All the life ruining without ever being part of the A plot.

There’s an upside though: the second she hits that firm cloud of a mattress, she’s out like a light.

Absolutely nothing wakes her, but Shirayuki jolts into consciousness anyway, as unpleasant as any false start. She expects to be confused; she’s not a graceful riser to begin with, and every morning in temporary housing, she’d bounce off three walls at minimum trying to find a bathroom that didn’t exist.

(Well, the bathroom did exist, it just didn’t exist where it should, which was down the hall to the right, and was compounded by the door being in exactly the wrong place too.)

Instead, she knows exactly where she is. Knowledge which is quickly followed by the low-key, seething resentment for the man who put her here.

She groans, lifting her head from the pillow. It’s fine. She’s fine. It’s just--

7:00, her alarm clock says. Tuesday, her brain provides after a long moment.

She should be getting up, habit told her. Getting her morning fix of avocado toast and orange juice with Paul Newman’s face stamped on it.

There’s worse ways to start your day than having a fine pair of eyes smiling at you, Oma would say.

What can I say? Opa’d grumble back, flipping through the paper. It’s impossible to compete with Butch Cassidy.

Her fingers curl into the sheets. There’d be none of that today. Agent Jiang-- Obi’s assistant had gotten her Simply Orange instead. A small mercy. It’s hard enough to be someone else when there’s still so much her clinging to the edges.

It’s tempting to linger in bed; she’s always been a morning person, up with the birds, but maybe Claire isn’t. Maybe Claire likes to stay up late and sleep in, sleeping past the three alarms she sets for herself. Maybe she likes to have waffles for breakfast, straight from a box, and drinks pomegranate juice. Maybe she doesn’t bike into the lab at eight because--

She groans. Because Claire doesn’t have a job. A thing that will have to change soon, since Claire has to pay for this house.

There’s a great deal of compromise that happens between bedside and bathroom; habit insists she needs to be fully dressed, ready to greet the day, but everything else--

Well, she’s not going anywhere is she? There’s no reason she couldn’t wallow in her pj’s all day

Standards, habit insists. But those belonged to Shirayuki, not Claire. Claire has no job, no friends, and nothing to do on a Tuesday morning besides--

Oh no, the recycling.

The bin is nearly two-thirds her height, but with only one day under her belt, it’s already overflowing. Good thing she’d looked at that brochure when it slipped out from between the takeout menus.

She shrugs her hoodie a little tighter, pulling it down over her leggings-- habit and hedonism settled on exercise wear as a happy medium-- and grips the handle, tugging it out the opening garage door, right into the fresh Texas morning--

And promptly throws her hoodie back into the garage. She might need that with the downright frosty temperature the house is set to, but oh, she was not going to cover her skin out here any more than necessary. Even now, she’s starting to sweat in impossible places beneath her leggings.

Hooking her palm back around the handle, she tugs the bin down the drive. Her gaze fixes to the pavement-- the last thing she needs is to trip right over herself on her own driveway taking out the trash-- and she doesn’t look up until she hits the sidewalk. It’s a struggle to get it to sit right-- these are proper curbs, white poured cement with squared edges meant to puncture cheeky tires; one of the wheels catches in a gap and refuses to budge until she hip checks it out onto the next slab.

She’s damp at this point, skin dewing with giant drops of sweat she’s tempted to shake off like a dog, but--

But Martha Kino has an arm slung along their fence, holding a tall glass of iced tea that makes her mouth water just to look at.

“Oh, um, good morning!” she calls out with a weak wave. “I didn’t, um, see you there.”

It’s only when Martha slides her gaze to her that she realizes her neighbor hadn’t been looking at her at all. Her mouth curves into a knowing smile at the sight of her. “Good morning, honey. You here for the show?”

Shirayuki blinks. “The show?”

“Mm-hm.” Martha takes a long drag from her straw, ice clinking against the glass. “Here it comes now.”

Shirayuki tracks her line of sight right across the cul-de-sac, squinting at half acre of immaculately trimmed, completely invasive Bermuda grass. Their front garden is well-kept, as well; thickly mulched with giant hibiscus blooming blood red against pristine stone facade.

Oh, and there’s a man as well. That’s probably what Mrs Kino is looking at.

He’s tall. No, tall is an understatement; he’s a giant, six foot four at least with shoulders to match. He’s trimmed with the same military precision as his lawn, clean shaven with an undercut that could scratch glass. Heavy brows draw sharply over his nose, forehead rumpling as he tears a box right down the fold--

Ah, well, all right. It’s not doing much of anything for her, but the Vitruvian man’s more ideal cousin ripping up boxes definitely counts as a show. Halfway through, he grabs the hem of his shirt, mopping his brow, and ah, hm, he could definitely have made money as an anatomical model. His rectus abdominis are, ah...very defined.

“Is he--” Shirayuki searches for the words-- “from around here?”

“Oh, him?” Martha’s gaze doesn’t stray for a second, not even as she sips at her tea. “That’s Scott. Aspen’s husband. They just moved in a few weeks ago.”

Shirayuki glances around the neighborhood. Seems like more than a few of her neighbors hope they’ll never leave either.

“Quite the pair, those two,” Martha hums. “She’ll be at the luncheon. I know you two will just get on like houses.”

More like houses on fire if she mentions she’s seen her husband’s floor show. “Oh, right. The um, luncheon.”

Mrs Kino grins as Scott hops back inside, out of this heat, just like she’s dying to do. “By the way, he mows the lawn on Sunday, just before lunch.”

“Oh, um, great.” She’ll be sure to miss it. “Can’t wait.”

It’s too early to bake cookies.

There’s not a baked good on earth that tastes as good two days later as it does fresh out of the oven; Shirayuki knows that down to her toes and bones, but still--

Stress baking. It’s a thing. And she doesn’t have to make anything right now. She could get all the ingredients together, just to make sure she has them. And then...just not do anything.

She can. Definitely. Absolutely. She’s Claire now. Claire probably doesn’t even like chocolate chip cookies.

Oh gosh, who is she kidding? Only monsters don’t like chocolate chip cookies. What next, Claire doesn’t like brownies? Apple pie? Snickerdoodles?

It’s a slippery slope, not liking things. Best to just keep it simple and eat everything, that’s what Opa always said at the church potluck.

The morsels and brown sugar already sit out on the counter when her phone lets out a piercing ting. She’s half tempted to ignore it; she’s having a contentious battle with the ten pounds of King Arthur flour that’s tucked away in her cabinet-- what was she thinking?-- and she refuses to show any fear in the face of baking supplies but--

Ting. No one knows her number. Well, no one except the government.She settles back on her heels with a sneeze. The government probably doesn’t take kindly to being left on read.

Her hands clap against her thighs, flour misting into the air as she leaves two partial prints right over the helical print. She frowns, plucking at the fabric, nose wrinkling as more powder burst into the air. Ting.

“I’m coming,” she mutters, stumbling over to the island. “I’m coming.”

Sugar Daddy i got just what u need pumpkin check ur email

The corners of her mouth dig furrows into her cheeks as she clicks on the notification. It’s the only message in her inbox, aside from the ubiquitous Welcome to Gmail spam and a few coupons for Banana Republic and a couple of other retailers. They’d taught her about this at orientation; they couldn’t do much about an empty inbox, but everyone had at least a few mailing lists they’d either forgotten to opt out of or regularly used.

Still...what about her said Banana Republic? She glances down at her spandex-clad legs. If they were going to go for a too-expensive clothing line, they could have at least sprung for Lululemon.

Ah, but that wasn’t the point. Marshal Jiang-- Obi hadn’t texted all...that...to show off some spam. Sitting at the very top of her inbox is a Cornell email address-- Cornell-- with an attachment.

Dear Claire, the message reads, We’re so sorry to see you go, but I’m glad we’re able to keep in touch. Of course we kept the copy of your old CV. Good luck to you in all your endeavors.

It’s signed by some professor; not high profile enough for her to have heard of, but she doesn’t doubt that he’s real, someone a curious party could look up on Cornell’s directory. Well, at least for the next six months.

The Columbia alumna inside her writhes in agony. Cornell. She doubts it’s a coincidence.

Me Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me?

Not that she’s very, um, up on the specifics of such a relationship, but she’d been under the impression that sugar...children?...were supposed to be fully reliant on their sugar parent. Her mouth pulls thin. Already she’s thinking about this far more than she’d ever hope to.

Sugar Daddy a good daddy makes sure his baby can take care of herself ;)

This declaration is followed by a stream of emojis, ending with an eggplant and a peach, and she just-- doesn’t need to know. She wipes away the sweat that beads at her hairline-- from embarrassment, of course-- and downloads the attachment.

Me I’ll take a look. Thank you.

She sets the phone back on the island, face down, and glares. He can’t possibly be like this to everyone. People would complain. They wouldn’t just let him insinuate that he-- that they--

Ting.

Sugar Daddy good girl

All right. Maybe they would.

Shirayuki doesn't get homesick.

She’d been the first brownie to leap out of her car at summer camp; Opa barely had time to lurch into park before she was traipsing across the field, backpack slung over her shoulder and duffel bag dragging on the grass. Freshman year, she moved into the dorm by herself, pressing kisses to wrinkled cheeks as she lugged her suitcases onto the train; she’d almost forgotten to wave from the window.

But as soon as she lays down in bed, the lights snuffed out and the world still, it hits her. Just a soft roll of her stomach at first, the barest itch on her skin, like wearing a wool sweater on a spring afternoon. It’s fine; too much to ignore but nothing that would keep her up too long.

It doesn’t stay that way.

Her stomach clenches, tears pricking at her eyes, and it’s everything she can do to just roll onto her side, letting the chills wrack through her body. She shivers so hard her teeth chatter, and this-- this isn’t the gentle ache of nostalgia her books prepared her for. This is an illness, plain and simple, like when she caught norovirus in eighth grade can could hardly do anything but lay on the bathroom floor and wait for the next wave to begin.

This isn’t her, she isn’t like this, she doesn’t get like this, but-- but--

Before she always knew her home was waiting for her; she could leave but Oma and Opa would always keep the front lamp on, waiting for weary travelers and last minute bookings.

It’s different now that there’s no home to come back to.

7:00, her alarm clock says. She watches it tick over, like she has for every hour before it.

She must have slept at some point; it’s impossible that she’s lain awake, staring at the clock for eight hours. But that doesn’t make her any less tired, and so when her alarm starts up, beeps cutting through the quiet white noise of the air conditioner, she reaches out and slaps it off.

Shirayuki may not sleep in, but Claire is certainly warming to the idea.

Her notebook sits open on the island; neat, looping script stretches across the page, straining the boundaries of the blue lines that contains it. She’d done her homework yesterday, combing through job sites to find the most likely candidates. There’s five on her list right now, ranked according to preference, and oh, is Shirayuki glad she had the gumption to do this before, because this morning she feels like roadkill being scraped off the blacktop.

Still, she worries at her lip as her laptop boots up, peering over her list. In the cold light of the morning, five seems too few, but...desperation hasn’t set in yet. She’s allowed to still have standards.

Wrapping her hands around her mug, she glances at the next page: another list. No, a set of instructions. Edit CV. Write cover letters.

Shirayuki groans. Even with the bullet points she left for herself, composing cover letters is a circle of hell all its own. With only three hours of solid sleep under her belt, it’s an insurmountable hurdle to getting hired.

“Right,” she murmurs, hooking an ankle around a stool and pulling it under her. “Editing it is.”

She clicks on the pdf Obi sent her, scrolling down and--

“Oh no.” She rears back from the screen, heart pounding. “No, no. There’s got to be a mistake...”

“Hey, baby,” Obi’s voice rumbles through her speaker. It’s thick and warm and would be utterly distracting if she were in any less of a crisis. “A little early for a b--?”

“What happened to my papers?”

“Uh.” All the suggestion in his tone evaporates. “What?”

“My papers.” Her hand grips the phone so tight it creaks. “They’re gone.”

His end goes silent. Silent enough to make that weird click, like the line’s cut out, and she pulls back to check--

“Someone stole your passport?” He laughs, incredulous. “Some sort of luck you have, Miss. Barely had it for a day and already you’ve gotten your identity stolen.”

She blinks into the barren air of her kitchen. “What?”

“You know,” he hums, too amused, “I picked out a cute house in the suburbs for safety, and here you are, getting robbed. Did you leave them in your car? Or did you just go out--”

“N-no!” She’s honestly half tempted to say what car, until she remembers the tasteful mid-sized SUV in the driveway, the one she’s still been calling the girlfriend car in her head, and realizes-- it’s hers. She’s the girlfriend.

Except she’s not. At all. Which is fine! She doesn’t even want that! If she’s still thinking about what his mouth feels like as he wraps them around his words, then--

She really can’t be thinking about this right now. “I mean my papers! I just looked at my CV and it’s a page!”

He hesitates, though not enough for the line to click again. “Isn’t that long enough?”

“CVs aren’t resumes,” she informs him patiently, pen twisting between her fingers. “They’re dick measuring contests--”

Her teeth snap around the words, but oh, it’s too late. They’re already out there in the aether, and he’s laughing.

“Now there’s something I didn’t think I’d hear out of you, Miss.” He doesn’t need to sound so pleased about it.

“It’s something my old PI used to say,” she mutters. Oh, Garak would be so proud of herself if she knew. “It’s not very polite, but she’s not, um, wrong.”

“I’m sorry the US government made you under endowed.” His words practically rattle as he says them. “It’s not the size that matters, Miss, but how you use it.”

“Obi,” she huffs. “All the work I’ve done for the past ten years of my life now is attributed to my birth name and my birth name only! According to this CV I have the same level of experience, but less papers than an undergrad! And you can’t tell me that any of these are searchable on PubMed.”

And none of them are first authors, is what she doesn’t say. It’s a petty thing to worry about when her entire academic career is functionally extinct.

“Hm.” His fingers drum quickly on a table. Desk? It’s strange not knowing anything about the man who is her only lifeline. “I’ll look into it.”

“I don’t want to be, um, alarmist, but I can’t get a job with this.” Her hand shakes as she scrolls down her screen. “No one is going to hire a post-doc with a one page CV.”

“Don’t worry, Miss. There’s a plan for this, somewhere.” She can feel his grin when he says, “You can’t be the first academic who’s had to go into hiding.”

She smiles, despite herself. “Considering some of the conferences I’ve been to, I can believe it.”

“Besides, you could always apply to pharmaceuticals.” The very word is like a donkey kick to her gut. “The pay’s supposed to be better--”

“I can’t work for Big Pharma.”

He hesitates. “You...can’t?”

“Obi, they make little old grandmas pay eight hundred dollars for insulin!” She presses a hand to her chest. “Banting and Best didn’t sell the patent for one dollar so that people could get gouged by--”

“I get it, I get it,” he assured her. “Preaching to the choir. But as a safety, I’m sure you could find one that isn’t stealing candy from babies.”

She huffs. “I doubt it.”

He rasps out a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do. As I said, can’t be the first PhD on the lam.”

Her mouth twitches. “Just yours?”

“You are certainly some kind of education, Miss.” He hums. “Give me a day. See what I can turn up.”

“You have two,” she informs him magnanimously. “I have the luncheon tomorrow.”

“Oh, right.” She doesn’t need to see him to know he’s lounging, smug like a cat post-canary. “Looking forward to joining the neighborhood’s Ladies’ Committee?”

“Ha ha,” she drawls flatly. “Very funny.”

He is unnervingly silent on the other end.

“You’re kidding, right?” Her voice certainly does not fill with a nervous quaver. “You guys don’t have things like that around here.”

Obi hums, humoring her.

“W-what would they even do?” She picks nervously at the sticker on her laptop, prying up part of NVIDIA. “Plan potlucks? Organize the Neighborhood Watch? Cotillions?”

She doesn’t know how he makes his grin so palpable over 4G. “Looking forward to your debut, Miss?”

Shirayuki scowls down at her screen. “I think I’m firmly up on the shelf, thank you. Now if you don’t mind, I have cookies to make.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #witness protection au #ans #i wanted SO BADLY to get to the ladies lunch this chapter #but a lot of the lead up in here got too long #and in the interest in cutting it at a place that made sense #it all got moved one chapter over #BUT it is almost to where the true conceit of this fic arrives #always a nice place to be

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sammiexwtf · 5 years ago

Text

DIO Sounds About Right

Hi please enjoy my shitty JJBA fic (You can find it on AO3 and Wattpad with the same name) NSFW

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“Giorno I am so sorry that you haven’t been on good terms with your father practically since your birth, but I am NOT failing this project just because you want to avoid him,” You huffed. The blonde man on your phone screen shot you an annoyed look, which most likely mirrored the one on your own face.

“I don’t know why you’re so damn adamant on staying at my house to finish this project Y/N. I’ve already stayed over at your place countless of times and as a plus you’re closer to the library, we could just walk over when we need to,” Giorno let out a deep sigh as he leaned against his bed frame. “You know how I get when he’s around and since his business trip was cancelled he’ll be here for the whole weekend.”

“Look Gio, I know you try and avoid him as much as possible and I’m not clueless about your feelings towards him,” you mumbled with a small frown. “It’s just that my roommate is planning on using the apartment for one of her ridiculous parties and we’re not going to have any peace for our work if you come over here. Besides, even if your dad is going to be home all weekend you always tell me he locks himself in his study, so it’s not like we’re going to be graced with his presence anyways.”

“Still it’s just the simple thought of being under the same roof as him that’s bothering me. Plus, I don’t think you’ve even met my dad, so you wouldn’t really understand why I’m so against it.”

“You make it sound like he’s some sort of monster, maybe we should start calling him Count Dracula or something.” Your friend snorted at your stupid joke, trying to hide his smile by turning his face away from the screen.”Either way you won’t be completely alone with him if I’m there, and I know you wouldn’t be able to put up with a bunch of drunk college girls trying to get you into their panties.” At your last remark the blonde made a look of disgust and knew that you basically won the argument. If there was one thing that bothered Giorno the most, it was those self proclaimed ‘fans’ of his that were scattered throughout the university that you both attended, your roommate being one of them. Trying to avoid their affections while they were drunk would cause him even more displeasure than usual.

“Fine then. I’ll text you the address.” You couldn’t hide your excitement as you jumped out of bed to start packing your bag. This would be the first time going over to Giorno’s house since you’ve met him, and you weren’t going to waste any time if he decided to change his mind last minute.

“Alright I’ll see you soon then. Bye Giogio!”

“I told you not to call me that!” You playfully stuck your tongue out at the blonde before ending the FaceTime call to finish packing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at the enormous house before you, flicking your head back and forth between the address Giorno had sent to you and the one plated in gold above the large double set doors. You even asked the boy more than once if he sent you the wrong address by mistake, earning you a barrage of middle finger emojis and obscenities at having to repeat himself over and over. Gingerly you lifted your hand to the doorbell and rang it, hearing the chime as clear as day echo inside. Your eyes shifted above the doorbell and noticed a plaque with the name ‘Brando’ etched across it. The sound of one of the doors opening gained your attention once more as a gorgeous young woman stepped out from them. She was wearing what looked to be a tight fitting maid’s uniform, with long brown hair swept to the side and cascading down one of her shoulders.

“Welcome to the Brando residence,” She said with a polite smile. “How can I help you Miss?”

‘Brando residence?” You thought to yourself. ‘I thought Giorno’s last name was Giovanna?’

“Uh hi...I’m looking for Giorno? I’m not sure if I’m at the right address.” The young woman perked up at Giorno’s name and stepped aside, holding the door open with a warm smile.

“You must be Y/N! Please come inside, Mr.Giovanna is indeed expecting you tonight!” At the confirmation you let out a breath of relief before stepping through the threshold, only to stop at the sight of the marble staircase before you. The house was far from being considered a mansion, but nonetheless did it look like something straight off of one of those celebrity reality shows. You jumped at the sound of the large door closing behind you, forgetting momentarily about the girl as she quickly made her way towards you. “Just give me one moment to go get Mr.Giovanna for you, he was insistent about showing you the house on his own.” All you could do was nod your head as words seem to fail as she hastily made her way up the stairs. You didn’t have time to look around though as Giorno came around from the top of the stairs and smiled down at you.

“This would be the part where I’d say welcome to my humble abode, but there is absolutely nothing humble about this monstrosity, my father made sure of that,” He sneered. He motioned with his hand for you to come up and you quickly began to ascend the stairs. Once you were at the top it didn’t seem as scary as before, but the rest of the home was just as beautiful. You honestly weren’t paying attention to where you were going, you were trying to take in everything at once from the amazing artwork that lined the walls, to ornate furniture, and even taking a moment to look at how pristine the hardwood floors were that you could practically see your face through it. Ok, maybe they weren’t that clean but still.

Before you knew it, you were in Gio’s bedroom as he made his way to his bed and opened his laptop. His bedroom was a simple creme color, a coffee brown bookcase filled with novels and trophies was lined next to a window that reached from the floor to the ceiling. Directly across from his bed was a flatscreen T.V sitting on top of a matching brown dresser. His walls were covered in paintings that looked as if they belonged in an art museum and a map of the world hung above his headboard. You stared down at his bed then, afraid to sit down as you didn’t want to wrinkle the deep purple duvet atop it. It took Gio a moment to realize that you were still standing by the doorway, his eyes following yours as they danced across his room as well before stopping right back at you.

“What?”

“Why am I just finding out now, after 2 years of friendship might I add, that you’re fucking loaded? I mean I knew you came from a family with SOME money but holy shit dude!” You stared into his green eyes, looking for an answer. Only to be met with a smile.

“Well technically I’m not rich. My father is. Hence there was nothing to find out.” You gave the blonde a dirty look, earning a chuckle from him before deciding that the bed was no longer intimidating and sat down on it.

“You know what I meant. I know you said your dad had a busy job, but what does he do to be able to own a house like this? Is he part of the mafia?” This time your question earned you a hearty laugh from your friend and you felt your ears get hot, not liking to be laughed at when you were being serious. You threw your duffle bag at Giorno, only for him to catch it with ease before placing it next to him on the bed. “I’m not trying to be funny Gio! Answer me!”

“First and foremost, you should know the mafia is MY forte, and I probably would respect the man if he actually was a member. It would make getting in a bit more easier.” You snorted at his answer. If you had a dollar for every time the boy mentioned dropping out of school to join the mafia you’d probably be as rich as his father by now. “However, every now and then he gets one as a client, if they’re willing to pay good that is. He’s a lawyer.” You looked around once more and out the open door as the maid walked by carrying a basket full of laundry. If this is what a lawyer could afford, maybe you were studying the wrong major.

“I have one more question.” Gio simply nodded his head for you to continue as he began typing on his laptop, pulling up the notes for the project you were assigned. “Why did that maid say this was the Brando residence? There was a plaque outside too with that name. I thought your last name was Giovanna?”

“It is Giovanna,” he answered without looking up from the computer screen. “That was my mother’s maiden name. My father’s last name is Brando. They were never married.” His curt reply told you that there was definitely more behind the story, but you decided not to press the issue for now and kept any more questions to yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roughly three or four hours had passed since you and Giorno had begun working on your project, satisfied with the work so far you both decided to take a break. The due date wasn’t until a week from now, but this project was for your marine biology class and the professor was known for being a hardass when it came to grading so the sooner you could work on it, the more time you could use to perfect it before it reached him. You tossed your pen onto the bed, cracking your fingers and stretching your arms. Giorno had brought out his espresso machine an hour into the session and was now brewing himself another cup. You honestly never heard of anyone who kept a spare coffee machine in their bedroom, but Giorno mentioned that while he lived in Italy, it apparently was a normal thing. You called bullshit but decided not to break your head over it anymore.

“You sure you don’t want another cup of coffee Y/N?” You covered your mouth to stifle a yawn, wagging your finger at him.

“No thank you, if I drink too much caffeine I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Besides,” You added while hopping off of his bed. “Another cup of anything and I think my bladder will explode. Where’s the closest bathroom in this maze?”

“Down the hallway on the other end of the staircase, turn right.”

“Grazie!” He simply shot you a thumbs up as you made your way out with his, albeit vague, directions. Soon you went down the hallway and passed the stairs. “Alright he said turn right and we should be in business…” As soon as you turned the corner you stopped to see three doors, one on the right side closest to you and two on the left. All three were closed and Giorno hadn’t mentioned there’d be more than one door. “Well...only one way to find out.” Without another thought you naturally went to the single door on the right and opened it without hesitation. Not the brightest idea.

You halted in place, mouth going dry. The door you opened led not to the bathroom but to an older looking study. The three walls in front of you were lined ceiling to floor with bookcases, a small globe in the corner. In the center of it was a large mahogany desk, covered in scattered papers. What made you really stop however was the tall and muscular blond man casually leaning against the desk...with the maid on her knees facing him. The moment you had opened the door he had slowly looked up from the woman to you, not even startled by your intrusion. At first the only sounds you could hear was your own rapid heartbeat echoing in your ears, but now you were focusing on the sounds coming from the maid and noticing how her head was bobbing. A blush began to creep up your neck to your face as it looked like he made no intentions of stopping her either.

“Is there something I can help you with? I’m a bit busy if you couldn’t tell.” His deep voice had wrapped around your mind, slowly dragging you out of your thoughts. It sounded so calm, despite the current situation. You had to basically tear your eyes from the scene in front of you, your face burning more.

“I-I’m so sorry! I was just looking for-” You began to stutter, but he raised a hand stop you mid sentence.

“It’s the door across.” You quickly bowed and practically slammed the door shut, missing the sinful look on the man's face as he watched your retreating form.

You bolted into the room across, thankful this time for it actually being the bathroom as you locked the door letting out a shaky breath. You had no doubt in your mind that you had just met Giorno’s father, and unceremoniously at that.

“What a great first impression,” You thought aloud. You made your way to the sink to run some cool water on your face in hopes of getting your flustered look back to normal. After you were done and completed your original business you just stood at the closed door, you were a bit nervous to step foot outside the bathroom if god forbid HE was to come out at the same time. Unfortunately, god decided to dislike you at this moment as you heard a small knock on the restroom door. “Just a second,” You shakily called out. Deeply hoping it was Giorno wondering what was taking you so long. When you finally had the gall to open the door you were instead met with the sight of the young maid, her hair this time was a bit disheveled and a small pink tint was hinting at her cheeks.

“Hello again Ms. Y/N,” She squeaked out. This time she would not meet your eyes, looking towards the ground instead. “Mr. Brando would like for you to join him in his study for a moment. I will be taking my leave for the evening, please enjoy the rest of your stay.” She bowed and sped away and out of sight, not giving you a chance to apologize about walking in on them. You swept your eyes over the closed door to the study across from you, feeling a cold sweat begin to form on your brow. You inhaled deeply before settling your nerves and walking over. This time you knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

“Come in.” With another deep breath you slowly edged the door open, once again being welcomed by the dimly lit study. This time the man, whom you now knew was in fact Giorno’s father, sat behind his desk patiently, fingertips pressed together right above his wide chest. “I’m glad you learned how to knock this time,” He teased with a grin.

“Trust and believe I learned my lesson, again I want to properly apologize about intruding on...something so private.” You could hear your voice falter under his intense gaze, and he let out a deep chuckle. The sound was so alluring, and you felt your throat beginning to dry.

“That’s quite alright. I wanted us to start over on that first impression. Given the maid explained to me you’re a friend of my son, I didn’t think it appropriate for your first meeting of me to be in the middle of having my cock sucked,” He stated as if he were just talking about a small inconvenience. Your eyes widened at his crudeness and you couldn’t help but blush and look away, positive that you were as red as a cherry now.

“Well then...I appreciate the second chance then Mr. Brando.”

“Dio.”

“I beg your pardon?” You turned your face back to him, now he had his arms resting beside him on the chair. There was an almost playful look in his eyes.

“You can call me Dio. Mr. Brando is far too old for my taste.”

‘Of course his name would be something like Dio...how well it suits him too,’ You thought to yourself.

“Alright then...Dio. I’m Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You bowed to formally greet the man, and when you looked back up he was beckoning you with his finger to come forward. You thought about just staying put but in the end began walking towards him. As you got closer, you were able to notice his features more clearly. His vibrant blond hair sat at neck length, small fringes of bangs reaching right about his thick brows. His eyes almost looked cat like, predatory even yet strikingly alluring. You assumed they were a light brown color but with the dim lighting they almost looked red, adding a supernatural aura to him. He was gorgeous, and now you knew where Giorno got his looks from. Once you reached the edge of his desk, he held out his hand for you, almost as if he were asking for a handshake. You reached out your own to reach his, taking notice at how incredibly large his hand was to yours. However he gently wrapped his fingers around your hand and leaned over, placing a warm kiss on your knuckles. The small action immediately sent a wave of heat through your entire body. He looked up at you through hooded eyes, not moving your hand away from his face. Your blush had never left, and the heat began to grow unbearable as you watched his eyes slowly sweep down your face, stopping for a moment at your lips before coming back up to lock once more with your own.

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Y/N.” His voice dropped to a seductive whisper, the breath from his words ghosting over your knuckles and sending a shiver down your spine. Slowly he slipped his hand from yours, lingering on your fingertips for the briefest of moments before resting it on his thigh. You followed his movements with your eyes, noticing how thick and muscular his thighs were, straining against the fabric of his beige dress pants. Your eyes crept up, landing on the small amount of skin peeking out from his shirt he hadn’t bothered to tuck back in. The white button down seemed to be a second skin, as it clung to every contour and muscle on his body, the first two buttons undone to give you a glimpse of just what lies underneath. Finally, your journey stopped on his lips; deliciously pouty and upturned into one of the most devilish smirks you’d ever seen. “See something you like?” You dragged your eyes up completely to meet his, only to be greeted with an intense gaze that burned through your entire body. He had watched you ogle him shamelessly like a horny school girl, and couldn’t look more proud about it. At that moment the door to the study swung open, snapping you out of your trance.

“I was worried you got lost, looks more like you got trapped.” Giorno’s familiar voice was laced with venom, his face contorted to one of disgust. He stayed at the entrance of the study, holding the door open to allow the light from the hallway to seep through. He was focused solely on Dio, who sat relaxed in his chair unbothered by the angry blonde boy.

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise my son.” He emphasized the last two words, earning an eye twitch from the younger. “ I was just introducing myself to your exquisite friend here. I’m quite hurt that you hadn’t introduced me to her sooner.” Giorno simply scoffed at his father’s words.

“Well now that you’ve met, I’d like to have her returned to me now. We have a project to finish.” Giorno then turned his eyes to you, his gaze softening immensely. “Come on Y/N, I ordered us some takeout and it should be here soon so we can get back to work.”

“O-oh. Uh thanks Gio,” You mumbled. Your mind was still in a bit of a haze, but you were beginning to get your bearings. You turned to look at Dio and bowed once more. “It was nice meeting you Mr...I mean Dio. Please have a great rest of your evening.” With that you turned and began high tailing towards the door. Giorno moved back into the hallway as you approached, but before you could close the door that seductive voice reached out to you once more.

“Y/N,” he purred out. Slowly you turned towards him, hand still in the door knob. “If you need anything at all tonight, please do not hesitate to come look for me. You are our guest here and it would be my...” his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, “greatest pleasure to assist you.” You couldn’t help but swallow at the second meaning behind his words. Afraid to hear your own voice you simply nodded your head before softly closing the door behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giorno had interrogated you for a bit on your meeting with Dio, and you lied and told him you simply got curious after finding the bathroom and stumbled upon the study. You could tell he knew you were leaving something out but you would be damned if you actually told him the real way you found his father. After making sure you were ok enough for him and confirming that the man never touched you he dropped the subject and you both went on with the project while enjoying the food he had ordered. At around 1 AM you both agreed on turning in for the night and to continue in the morning. Giorno showed you to the guest room right next to his and bid you goodnight, finally leaving you alone with your thoughts. You laid on top of the bed just staring at the ceiling for a while. No matter how hard you tried, you kept replaying the meeting with Dio over and over again to the point that the memory of the maid slowly morphed and it was now you on your knees in front of him instead of her.

“Get out of my head!” You angrily whispered, not wanting for your friend to hear you through the walls. You glanced at your phone to see the time, ‘1:30 AM’ mocked the bright numbers. You got up from the bed and dug through your duffle bag and pulled out your pajamas. You thought about just changing and forcing yourself to sleep but you felt too warm and wanted a shower. Immediately you thought about going to the one down the hall but your stomach dropped, you did NOT want to run into you know who. “This house is huge, there’s definitely another bathroom somewhere.” You slowly made your way out of the room and into the quiet hallway. You checked the other rooms near yours only to find another guest room and a movie room, which you knew you were going to beg Giorno to set up a movie night after all of this. You walked down the hall and stopped at the stairs, looking at the hallway across from you where you knew the bathroom was.

“Maybe he’s not there anymore and went to bed?” You said to yourself. You shook your head and continued on your mission of finding another bathroom and descended down the stairs, you weren’t going to take any chances. Finally after finding the kitchen, two more guest rooms and a billiards room, you found a second bathroom. It was smaller and less ornate than the one up stairs but it was still a decent size and had a stand up shower. You mentally cheered before placing down your items and quickly began stripping. Soon you were in the shower letting the cool water bounce across your skin, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away. Occasionally your mind would wander onto the relationship Giorno had with his father, yes the man was indeed intimidating and there was something below the surface of that beautiful face that felt a bit dangerous, but there was nothing else that struck out to you as to why your friend couldn’t stand him. He’s told you about how egotistical the man is and how they always lived on edge of a fight, but never actually gave you hard proof or reasons for the intense dislike. Giorno had told you about his mother and how a complete bitch she was while he was growing up and everything she had put him through so you understood his feelings towards her completely. Eventually she dumped him off onto Dio one day and just disappeared from his life, ‘good riddance’ he had told you. Yet the mechanics of his relationship with his father was still kept a mystery to you and he would close up about it if you started asking too many questions. The only answer you’ve gotten so far was that they shared a difference in morals, and that was it.

After a good while you finished your shower and started to dry off. You felt as if a thousand weights were lifted from your shoulders and quickly put the events of the evening to the back of your mind, finally feeling sleepy. You began to get dressed but noticed something odd. You could have sworn you brought a clean pair of underwear to change into along with your pajamas. You looked around the bathroom floor to see if maybe it had fallen but found nothing.

“Maybe I left them in the bag by accident?” You shrugged your shoulders and just decided to just slip on your night shorts without underwear , you’d put some on when you got back to your room. You opted for a simple tank top as well to complete the look, your body was still a bit wet so the shirt became damp making the material a bit see through. You didn’t really care much, not like you were going to run into anybody like this..

You made your way out of the bathroom, the air inside the house suddenly felt a lot more colder and you began to shiver. Scurrying your way through the first floor you finally made it back to the stairs and started to climb them. You hadn’t noticed the extra pair of footsteps walking the hall until you were half way up, stopping completely in your tracks and if you hadn’t met him tonight the sight before you would’ve been a terrifying one. Dio stood at the top of the stairs, his back facing the little bit of light from the hall so all you could really see was the outline of his body, his face was completely hidden in the shadows. It felt like you were looking at a ghost and not a man.

“What a coincidence, I was just on my way down to look for you, Ms. Y/N..” His voice was as smooth as ever, but you noticed there was something else there that you couldn’t quite pick up on. “What on earth are you doing up at this hour?” You were feeling a bit uneasy with how calm he sounded, and the fact that you couldn’t see his face was making it worse.

“I was just taking a bath..” You answered meekly, your throat feeling tight.

“And why would you go through the trouble of going all the way down there? You already know there’s one upstairs.”

‘ Because I didn’t want to run into like I just did now.’ You thought to yourself. You swallowed hard before answering.

“I-I didn’t want to disturb you in case you were asleep.”

“Aren’t you the thoughtful one.” He let out a chuckle. “No matter, I actually was looking for you to see if you forgot something.”

“Not that I know of..why?” You wanted for this conversation to be over already, the tension that you had just showered away crawling right back to you. Dio let out another chuckle, this one sounded a bit huskier. He didn’t say anything but lifted his hand out to the side, and your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. In his hand were your missing panties, where as he was still in the shadows they were illuminated VERY clearly in the light. You felt your embarrassment multiply as he laughed at your reaction.

“I found them on the floor up here by the stairs and figured they were yours, unless Giorno has changed his sense of fashion recently which I doubt considering he’s never liked polka dots to begin with. Then again I’m not one to judge.” You could hear the teasing tone in his voice and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously at his joke.

“This is just outright embarrassing, but thank you for trying to return them to me.” You kept mentally cursing to yourself about this whole situation, and how this happened in the first place; you should’ve just let Giorno come to your apartment to study like he wanted from the beginning. You began climbing the stairs to retrieve your underwear from the blond, but as soon as you reached the last step he took one step back just out of your reach. You furrowed your brows and stepped forward again, and once more he took another step back. “Um...what are you doing?”

“Playing your game, Ms. Y/N.” You rose a brow in confusion, you were honestly getting annoyed now.

“What game?” He let out a ‘hmph’ before turning around and walking down the hall, still dangling your underwear over his shoulder for you to see. “Hey!” You shouted and followed after him as he disappeared around the corner, once you reached it you stopped to see the door to his study was wide open. You made your way over and stood in front of the open door, on top of his desk were your panties, but Dio was nowhere in sight.

‘ I would have to be a complete idiot not to realize this is a trap.’ You stayed in place, just staring at the underwear that was mocking you. He had to be somewhere in there, but the dim lighting made it hard to see into the small shadows in the corner of the room, and the light from the hallway wasn’t helping much either. You contemplated just leaving them there, it wasn’t like you had no more underwear at home, but deep down you wanted to see what would happen and the moment that thought crossed your mind you felt a warm sensation through your body. Your fantasy was getting the better of you and before you realized it you were walking towards the desk. You reached the desk and still no sign of the man, so you reached out to grab your underwear without hesitating.

*Click*

The light from the hallway completely disappeared as the door was closed, you didn’t turn around but you could feel someone staring at you from behind. His footsteps echoed in the room, surprised that you could even hear them over the sound of your own heartbeat blaring in your ears. He stopped right behind you, his chest practically pressed against your back. A large hand reached out from behind you and took hold of the clothes that you were still clutching in your hands before tossing them to the side. Once more the hand came into your line of vision and tenderly cupped your face and turned it to the side to meet Dio’s hot gaze. His hand was cold in comparison to your hot face as he slowly traced circles on your bottom lip with his thumb. He bent his head down to your ear, pressing you against his body in the process and feeling his hardness rub against your ass. You let out a gasp, earning you a chuckle from the large man, his warm breath tickling your ear.

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you, that you’d be a special treat.” His voice felt like velvet as he whispered into your ear, the sound along with his breath was beginning to make your body betray you as each word he whispered sent a throbbing heat to your core. He kissed the spot right behind your ear, slowly ghosting his lips across your jaw, then your cheek before hungrily taking your own lips with his. His lips were softer than they looked as they caressed your own, earning a moan from you. Dio took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You should’ve pushed him away, bit his tongue, elbowed him to make a run for it or something instead of just giving in. His other hand had wrapped around your waist, but was now moving up and under your tank top grabbing a hold of your right breast and massaging it. Dio finally pulled away from the kiss and aside from the lustful look on his face he seemed unaffected, unlike you who was a panting red faced mess.

“We shouldn-'' Was all you were able to breath out before he pinched your nipple hard eliciting another moan from you as he began rubbing the sensitive bud between his fingers.

“Your voice sounds so sweet when you moan for me Y/N, I want more of it.” His other hand left your face as it travelled to the waistband of your shorts before slipping through easily, running a long thick finger across your slit. Your hips on their own accord bucked at the sensation, making Dio laugh darkly. “My, my, all I did was kiss you and you’re already so wet. You’re a very filthy girl aren’t you Y/N?” You turned your face away from him and bit your lip to hold back another moan as he slipped his finger inside you and began pumping it slowly. Your knees began to buckle from underneath you, so Dio pushed you both forward effectively pinning your legs between him and the desk to stop you from falling.

“I can’t do this,” You whined to him. “Your Giorno’s father..” You squeezed your eyes shut in pain as he added two more fingers and began pumping at an obscene pace, not allowing you to stretch around them first.

“I’m well aware of who I am to that boy.” He answered gruffly.The hand that was on your breast moved and was cupping your face a bit more rough than before, his fingers now hitting your sweet spot causing your breath to stop in your throat. “I’m also aware about his feelings for you and how blissfully ignorant you are to them. Which makes this so much more sweeter for me.” He kissed you again, this time more feverishly. As he pulled away again he withdrew his fingers from your heat at the same moment, leaving you feeling empty. That feeling was short lived however as he pushed you down onto the desk, your chest was completely pressed against it making your ass push out towards him. Dio pulled your shorts down to your ankles, the cold air rushing to your wet core making you shiver. You could hear him unzipping his pants and the ruffling of clothing, before you felt the tip of his dick tease against your entrance. Slowly he inched it into you, stretching out your hole. It had not hurt as much as you thought it would but there was a dull pain nonetheless from how big he was. You’ve had partners before so you were by no means a virgin, but you’d be damned if you had anybody with his size.

“Such a nice and tight cunt you have my dear Y/N. I can’t wait to ruin it.” Without wasting another moment he gripped your hips with both hands as he began to fuck you roughly, the lewd sound of his skin slapping against yours were drowned out by your loud moans. His chest was pressed firmly against your back, his head right next to your ear and you could hear every groan and grunt that escaped his lips. “I wish you could see the look on your face right now,” He panted into your ear, not once stopping his relentless pace. “Such a dirty look for a dirty girl.” You had no response, the only thing falling from your mouth being your own incoherent screams and moans. Soon you felt a hot pressure beginning to build, each thrust bringing you closer to your edge.

“Dio please!” You couldn’t recognize your voice, it sounded so hoarse and needy. He took notice and snaked a hand down between your legs, pressing a finger onto your clit but not moving it.

“Please what, my dear Y/N?” He began to slow his pace, getting you on the verge of tears as you felt the pressure begin to fade. “I want to hear you beg for it.” You tried to bring your hips to meet his but he only pulled farther away. Finally you gave in.

“Make me cum from your cock Dio, please!” Satisfied he picked up his pace, slamming into you as he began rubbing your clit in tight circles. The pressure began building up again causing your vision to go in and out.

“I want you to scream my name when you cum. Be a good little girl for me.” His voice is what sent you over the edge as his name ripped from your throat as you orgasmed. As you came your core squeezed around him, bringing him close to his. He pulled out with a final groan as he emptied his load onto your ass. As your high began to die down, you felt the pain on your thighs from being pounded into the desk. You were going to have bruises tomorrow for sure. Slowly Dio lifted himself from on top of you, lifting you off of the desk as well. “I apologize, but it seems I may have made a bit of a mess on you.” His breathing was back to normal, but when you turned around you looked down and nearly choked. He was still as hard as a rock. “Why don’t I join you for a another shower, Ms. Y/N?” The devilish look on his face was enough to tell you that your little romp was far from over.

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #anime #dio brando #readerxcharacter #readerxdio #reader insert #smut

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inforapound · 5 years ago

Text

Emboîté - Epilogue

A/N - Posting this feels a little trivial with what is going on out there in the world but I hope a few of you enjoy it. It's terribly fluffy and indulgent with a splash of angst. This series is dedicated to my friend @youbloodymadgenius

Pairing – Ivar and Sarah (Aethelswith) Words – 5,600 approx

“Are you ready?”

“We don’t know that they are here for me,” I replied over my shoulder from where I sat at the end of the bed.

“Why else would the poachers of the Paris Ballet be sitting in on rehearsal?”

“They are not poacher,” I smacked my lips. “They attended the performance last night, so the company invited them as a courtesy.”

“Did they sit in on Giovanna’s practice?”

There was a lift to his voice. The same rise in tone he had whenever asking a question he already knew the answer to.

Clearing my throat, I threw a t-shirt on over my head, pushing my arms through the holes.

“Yes...”

“Hmm.”

Swiveling I looked at him. God, he could be smug….and sexy, lying in bed, propped up on pillows. The cover was tossed across his lower body shielding only part of his nakedness. For a man who worked out maybe three times a week, his body was a freaking work of art.

“What?” I asked as he caught me ogling his toned flesh, with a fat smirk on his face.

“I think you should just quit the ballet and... sit on my face professionally.”

“Oh yeah?” I flashed him a smile. “You, Ivar Lothbrok, couldn’t afford it.”

“Come here,” he smiled sitting up, motioning like he was going to reach for me.

Grimacing, I looked away, “I’m still feeling crummy.”

“Shutting me down twice in a row?” he groaned pretending to be defeated.

Glancing back, I shot him a look which turned his smile downright bratty. Standing, I headed to the dresser and opened the drawer, grabbing my dance gear for the day.

“Sarah?”

The pensiveness in his voice made me stop and turn back to him.

“If you get an offer, how long before you leave?”

The muscles in my stomach knotted. Of course, I had been thinking about it as well, as much as I tried not to. Inhaling quietly, I noticed him working to keep his expression neutral, but I knew he was panicking inside. It was so endearing; it made my heart ache.

The past seven months of living together had been amazing… and accepting a dream offer, if one came, would be bittersweet. Spending Christmas, our birthdays, quiet evenings together, it just kept getting better and better. Yes, there had been hiccups and situations where we had to figure shit out but he had given me the space he promised. It was hard on him, the long practices, nonexistent weekends, rarely eating supper together, however, moving in and letting my apartment go, without question, was the right choice. Knowing I would always come home to him gave him a sense of relief and he relaxed with that feeling of security.

Watching him now, his eyes drifting from me, scanning the bedroom, biting his tongue at the state of his formally pristine apartment. My clothes and shoes were exploding out his walk-in closest, my makeup spread out over the top of the dresser, two, no three, half-empty glasses of water in this very room, my already swollen heart was about to rupture. How he opened his world to me made me cling to him even more, my level of sucky affection finally matching his. We were smitten, grotesquely in love, and living together felt so easy.

But now..... this... Paris...the possibility of it being real was confronting. Standing across the room, I could hear the gears in his head turn. God, I loved him.

“If I get an offer, I’m assuming I would need to be there in a few weeks.

Nodding he acknowledged what I said but remained quiet. His throat dipping noticeably with his swallow.

Looking down, I ran my toe over the callus on the inside of my other foot. “Would you come?” I glanced back up.

“Come?” He sat up from the pillows, his forehead scrunched in question.

“With your work and everything here, would you be able to move with me? To Paris? I know it’s asking a lot.”

“Really?” His smile broke, stretching across his bright face. “You want me to come?”

I nodded, my own smile mirroring his. “I didn't know if you’d be able to with work and... brotherly dynamics.”

“Fuck them,” he scoffed. “I work from home mostly and when I do go in, I feel like I want to murder everyone.”

“That’s normal,” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“I could work remotely and just fly back once or twice a month. God, I’ve been stressing about this for months,” he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “How little we’d be able to see each other.”

As run down as I felt, I needed him. His support and sweetness reeling me in. Sparkling with excitement, his eyes landed on mine again and by the look on his face, his brain was racing through the logistics.

Stepping forward, I crawled onto the bed, climbing on hands and knees up his body as he flopped back into his pillows with a grin. Opening his arms, he beckoned me close and I lowered down onto his front, his arms folding around me, my face hovering over his. The elation and relief radiated off him like a fever and it only fuelled the warmth spreading through my body.

My eyes roamed his perfect skin and refined features, vivid eyes, and smooth lips. Gah, over a year together and his handsomeness still made my stomach flip-flop. Reaching up, he swept the hair hanging against my cheek back, tucking it behind me ear, his hand lingering in place. Shutting my eyes, I leaned into it, my entire body beginning to wake. How? How could this man create such yearning? Satisfy me so intensely, every time.

Stroking his fingers across my jaw, he slid his palm under my chin, gently squeezing my throat before wrapping his large hand around the back of my neck.

“Baby,” his eyes flitted down to my parted lips. “Nothing can part us,” his words and breath danced across my mouth.

The muscles in my jaw and shoulders, back, and thighs relaxed, taking solace in his words. He must have felt my strain release, as his hold around me tightened, pulling me even closer, my face dropping down beside his head into the pillow. The long hours rehearsing six days a week and performing Thursday to Sunday had taken its toll. I was worn out and feeling vulnerable.

“You are working yourself too hard,” he spoke softly, the sound of his voice humming through his cheek into mine. “I can tell you need rest.”

“Just two more days and I can take all of Monday off. Maybe we can go somewhere.”

“Or... we can pretend we’re sick and camp out on the couch. Order food and play video games all day.”

Snorting I lifted my head, looking at him, “You mean, you will play video games and I‘ll sleep on the couch beside you.”

“Fuck yeah, sounds amazing,” he grinned again, showing his straight, white teeth.

“Hey,” my tone steadied, sounding serious and I watched his smile fade, his eyes searching mine. “I love you, Ivar.”

Tilting up, he kissed me. His warm mouth as soft and welcoming as always. His tongue skimmed across my lips, retreating and calling me to deepen the kiss. How easily his tender lips could sweep me away.

“Hmm,” a sound escaped me as I shifted the position of my head, my lips taking the lead. Having not made love in nearly two days, I felt starved for him to be inside me.

Breaking away, I lowered my face under his chin and gently sucked and kissed the skin of his throat. Dropping his hands to my ribs, his fingers dragged down my sides, his fingers exploring my panty-less skin. Moaning from the feel of my mouth on his collar bone, he grabbed the bottom of my shirt and started tugging.

“This can go,” he said as I straightened letting him lift my shirt up over my head and arms, tossing it onto the floor.

His blue eyes scanned down my front, clearly adoring the features of my body. God, I needed him. Every part of him. He made me feel so beautiful.

Not waiting any longer, I dropped forward, pressing my breasts against his smooth broad chest, the sensation making me squirm. His mouth was hungry and when I brought my lips back to his, he held the sides of my face, devouring me, kissing with an edge of arousal that only stoked the fire between us.

Rolling my hips, I rubbed my tingling core along the length of his hardness causing him to hiss against my lips. Rocking upwards, he growled, the vibration rumbling up into my chest. Without breaking our mouths apart, I lifted and reached down between us grabbing the base of his cock and lined the tip up with my slick entrance. Gradually lowering down, his thickness and length spread my walls, pushing up to the back of my womb. Christ, it felt right, and we moaned into each other’s mouths.

As if sensing what he needed, I lifted, allowing him to rock up into me, slowly, languidly, driving his cock in and out. Breaking his mouth from mine, he closed his eyes, seeming to savour the feel of his steady strokes.

“Fuck,” I breathed, tipping my face up, my chin resting on his cheek.

Bending his legs, he dug his heels into the mattress and continued slowly pumping, every inch of his gorgeous cock, grating my sensitive insides. There was no roughness, no race, just slow rhythmic movements.

“My love,” I murmured, tilting my mouth toward his ear. “Just like that.”

“I know what you need,” he whispered sweetly, his hands running up and down my back.

“You do,” I closed my eyes knowing there was no truer an answer.

Over the months of living together, his touch and love-making had changed. There was an ease to it now. A contentment. His kisses were softer, more appreciating. Gone was the frenzied claiming and possessive handling from before. He loved with this new sense of trust, knowing that he truly held my heart.

His movements picked up speed, his hands sliding down to the cheeks of my ass. Gripping, he pulled me harder against him, spreading my bottom apart, the cool air hitting the back of my wetness as his shaft slid in and out. Squeezing harder, his hips began to snap against me, forcing me to curl my hips digging my front into the bone above his cock.

“I love you so much,” he murmured with shaky breath as he pressed his face into my throat, his breath hot on my skin.

“God,” I whined, feeling my stomach begin to tighten, my clit itching for more friction, my insides aching for the next thrusts. “I’ve got to move,” I cried as I straightened upright, plunging down hard onto him, driving him deep inside.

Leaning my hands on his chest, I rutted fast, my eyes squeezing shut, knowing I was seconds away from breaking.

“Do it, baby,” he urged, tilting his pelvis up, clutching my hips hard, guiding me back and forth. Reaching up he cupped and kneaded my breasts, my nipples sharp and sensitive, the skin on my chest and back rising in goosebumps. “Yeah, do it. Ride me,” he urged in a growl, “Cum, baby. I want your sweetness all over me. You’re so fucking perfect.”

Small whimpers escaped us both as our bodies' need for the other took over. Rutting, fingers clawing, he tilted forward licking and sucking my nipples and every part of my flesh he could reach. The sensations were intoxicating, charged with devotion and need.

“Ivar,” I cried, my head dropping back. “Ivar!” I whined again as my orgasm hit, my walls clamping around him as I compulsively ground down, grinding my clit, the head of his cock stroking back and forth inside. My pussy thrummed, tightening on his shaft, my thighs trembled, and my upper body began to shake.

Grabbing me by the arms, he yanked me down to his chest and began pounding up from below. Our lips connected roughly, and we panted against each others’ mouths. His hands bracing my body as his hips relentlessly drove up into me feeling intense and electric. My orgasm rolled on, throbbing and quaking around him, his rocking pressing perfectly on my front. My breath was ragged as he grunted wildly with each thrust.

“I’m gonna fill your pussy baby. RIGHT. NOW.” Gritting his teeth, he drove up one last time, growling louder than I had ever heard and emptied his seed inside. Pumping slowly a few more times, he shivered before slowing his movements to a stop

Slumping, his head flopped back to the pillow, his legs flattened to the mattress as he sighed with sweet exhaustion. Resting my face against the side of his neck, I gripped his body like a sloth, nearly giggling at the feeling of our juices working their way out.

“My love,” I whispered feeling grateful for everything we had endured to reach this very moment, believing there wasn’t a thing that could ever tear us apart.

“Me sweet,” he whispered back, pressing his lips to my temple, nuzzling his face into my hair. I had never felt so loved or so excited about the future.

----

*Ringing*

Rushing back to my bag on the wooden table, I picked up my phone not checking the ID, assuming it was Ivar calling to wish me luck. Bringing it to my ear, I glanced back at the directors sitting on the far side of the room, chatting with the visiting man and woman. Both were impeccably dressed and looked like they fed on bowls of talent for breakfast. God, Paris must be fierce.

“Hello.”

“Ms. Pearson?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Ida from The Oslo Medical Clinic.”

“Yes?” I tried to not sound impatient.

“The doctor has asked that you make an appointment to come in, as soon as can. Not to panic you but something has come up with the results of your pap screen.”

“Oh! That’s okay, don’t worry.” Turning back, I again checked the chatting guests sitting to the side of the dance floor. “All the women in my family have funny tissue. It often comes back as suspicious but it’s always fine.”

“Sarah, the doctor would like to see you. Can you come today?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I just don’t have time this week. I’ll call after the weekend and maybe set something up.”

“Ms. Pearson, your pregnancy test came back positive.”

“Ah, there’s been an error. I didn’t take a pregnancy test.” The pianist entered, catching my eye, heading for the piano. “Sorry, I really need to go.”

“Sarah, we dipped your urine. It’s part of the standard check-up. You are pregnant. I dislike discussing this over the phone. Can you please come in after work?”

“What?”

What! I screamed in my head. This can’t be real.

“Sarah? Ms. Pearson?”

“I can come at 5. Will anyone be there at 5?”

“Yes dear, see you then.”

How did this happen, I asked myself, tossing my phone back into my bag? I had only ever had spotting while with Ivar. God! Pins and needles began to spread across the skin of my face and I instantly felt cold. I couldn’t think about this now. I had to dance. I had to dance for Paris.

——

Unlocking the door that night, I walked in with a white paper bag in hand given to me by the doctor at the clinic. Inside, were details on nutrition, a list of OBGYN’s in the city, a sample bottle of prenatal vitamins and a dark purple pamphlet titled, Unexpected Pregnancy - Now What?

Literally, like a fool, I had sat in front of the doctor and at age twenty-seven, cried, asking how this happened. The poor woman, no wonder she included the pamphlet.

Now, frozen like a statue in the front entrance, I listened to Ivar’s cane clicking toward me from the kitchen.

“So?”

Bobbing around the corner, I could tell by his pinched face that under his excitement he was annoyed I hadn’t returned any of his texts.

“I got an offer,” I said in a voice completely void of emotion. “Paris. Starting in four weeks. Decent money. Everything.” I sounded like a fucking robot.

“That’s great!” Smiling, he straightened, but his brows furrowed as he looked at me. Scratching behind his ear with his thumb, he dropped his head to one side. “Isn’t it?”

“And... I’m pregnant.”

I have never seen a person’s eyes grow that large in my life. His head shot back like he’d been punched in the face. Dropping his gaze, he first looked down in the direction of my non-existent stomach, hidden by my oversized coat, then glanced over to the white bag in my hand.

“Is it for sure or…” he stopped, staring, frozen like I felt.

“The doctor’s office apparently checks as part of a regular screening and they called me today. I went there on my way home and... I definitely am.

“But I thought…”

“I guess… I don’t know anything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, my eyes lowering to look at the rug on the entrance tile floor.

“Are you...okay?” His voice was quiet. Unreadable.

I could only shrug. I didn’t know. I felt so disconnected.

“Let’s sit down.” Without waiting, he turned and moved in the direction of the living room, glancing back to see that I was coming.

Side by side we sat, me in my coat, the white bag still in my hand, neither of us saying a thing. He was silent. I was silent and it was starting to get dark. We must be broken, I thought, screwed up by our families. This isn’t how normal people react. Glancing over at him, I quickly looked away, staring at the fireplace and vase of silk peonies on the mantle.

“Paris…. I can’t dance pregnant,” I exhaled, my breath sounding shaky.

It wouldn’t wait. How long until I could return after having a baby? How much time would I be out? Oh right! You fucking idiot, I blasted myself. I wouldn’t just be pregnant and then return to my life after giving birth. There would be a whole human at the end of it. What would I do with a human? I was potentially going to be a mom at twenty-seven and I still felt like a child! Yes, I knew tons of people younger than me with kids but…. that was them. Paris. It was my dream. My life’s passion. I was so close. Not even close, I was there. I would be trying to get back into prime condition, training eight hours a day with a baby and still likely never be given another shot. My mother! My poor mother. Is this what she was faced with? Would I too resent my own child?

Jolted from my thoughts, Ivar straightened his cane with his hand and pushed himself up from the couch. Without a word or a second look, he walked toward the kitchen.

“Ivar?”

“I can’t be here right now.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving.”

“What! We haven’t even talked. What are you doing?”

“Sarah,” he spun around, his eyes strange. “I can’t...” shaking his head as if baffled, he squinted at me. “You don’t fucking get it. I can’t be around you right now.”

My mouth dropped. I was gobsmacked. Grabbing his phone from the bar, he walked straight out the front door, closing it behind. Gone. Just left me alone, upset and..... pregnant.

---

9 pm came and went. 11 pm, midnight, nothing. No call, no response to my texts or voice mails. My emotions ranged from angry and confused to hurt but mostly worried. Where was my Ivar and what was going on in that head of his? Is this what I had put him through all those maniacal weeks leading up to the start of the season? Christ.

The room was too quiet, and I felt like I had been in a car wreck. Exhausted, sore and strangely crampy but perhaps that was in my head.

At 1:30 am, I had to sleep. I didn’t know where he was or what was going on, but I had to stop my mind from spiraling. All the possibilities filtering through. Wondering if he was afraid that his condition might pass on. Was he upset that I may have misled him about my period? I believed in my heart that he loved me but perhaps he just didn’t want a child with me.

Having to be at the theatre for 7:30 am, I turned off the light. Obviously, he wasn’t going to respond. Closing my eyes, the first tear slipped out from under my lids. I must have been too confused or in shock earlier but now I couldn’t stop crying. Were we over? Was he done?

In seven months, I had not once slept a night without him and here I was, a single knocked up ballerina, just as my mother had been. Perhaps, given everything… maybe my mom had done her best.

It felt like five minutes later but glancing at the clock as I reached for my ringing phone, I saw that it was just after 5 am. The room was still shaded, and it appeared I hadn’t moved an inch in my sleep.

“Hello.”

“Sarah”

It wasn’t him. Why wasn’t it him?

“Yes.”

“Its Ubbe.”

“Hi.”

“Look, Ivar’s fucked up.”

“We both are but I didn’t walk out.” My venom shot out before I could stop it.

“Yeah, I get it. Well, you know what I mean, but listen, he’s in bad shape. He’s finally fallen asleep upstairs.”

“I don’t know what to say Ubbe. This is really messed up.”

“Sarah! Fuck, you’ve got to give him a chance to explain everything. When Ivar turns to his big brother, you know its serious. Please, just come and talk to him. Let him sleep a few hours but he needs you.”

“I have to be at work this morning. Umm... tell him, I’ll be home for 5 pm.

“Work?”

“Yes,” I answered defensively.

“Okay,” he sighed.

What did Ubbe know about my life?

“I’ll make sure he’s home at your place for 5.”

“Okay.”

----

Ubbe was right. Rounding the dining room table to take a chair adjacent to Ivar, it hit me in the guts how aweful he looked. Pale, sweaty, dark circles around his eyes with an expression like he’d been staring at a fuzzy tv screen for a week.

“Hi,” I whispered sitting down, awkwardly pushing the chair out to give myself more room. This was all so strange.

“Hi,” he nodded, his eyes jumping down to his hands fiddling with a pen on the table.

Had he been writing me a note? There was no paper there. Home early, had I surprised him halfway through a goodbye letter?

“You’re off early.” Clearing his throat, he attempted to…. I don't know, make small talk. This was uncomfortable.

“I called in sick today.”

“Are you sick?” His eye flashing back to mine.

“No. Well, I’m tired.”

“Where have been? I got home a couple of hours ago.”

“I don’t know. No where. Everywhere. I rode the bus for a couple of hours.”

Frowning, he continued to look at me.

“Ate a falafel on a bench in a park. Watched seagulls. I don’t know,” I shook my head.

Nodding, he looked down into his lap and I knew he had been on his own journey the past however many hours.

Lifting a small black velvet box, he placed it on the table between us. There was no doubt in my mind as to what was inside. I wanted to cry. My sweetheart looked so broken.

“You don’t need to purpose to me because of this?” I said in my most gentle voice.

“Nope.” Shaking his head, his eyes stared at the box. “This has nothing to do with that.”

“Did you go out and buy it today?” I wanted to reach over and grab his hand or sit in his lap and hug him. Ease whatever was going on in his head but the look of determination on his face stopped me. “Ivar, I think you are upset and…”

“No, Sarah,” tipping his head forward, he silently asked me to listen. “I,” he cleared his throat and I could see his emotions building. He looked down at the box. “I bought this ring three weeks after I met you. Just after we got together.” Looking up, his tears spilled down his cheeks and my eyes instantly began to water. Swallowing, he cleared his throat, quickly brushing his eyes dry with the back of his hand.

“I… fuck,” he swore under his breath, clearing his throat again. “I have always known I wanted to be with you. No matter what. You’re it for me and I know you aren’t traditional and don’t believe in marriage or whatever, but I am giving this ring to you. You can wear it on your finger, or a necklace, even throw it in a drawer, that’s up to you. What I want you to know is that I’m all in. Whatever you decide.” Clearing his throat, he nearly choked, more tears spilling over the rim of his eyes, “And…that I love you.”

And I loved him. I had loved him since the start, but I had never loved him more than I did at this moment. Beneath the table, my hands gripped together, my nail dug into the inside of my thumb as I struggle not to reach for him. My touch would have burst him wide open.

“I couldn’t be around you last night,” he continued. “No matter what I would have said, I would have fucked everything up.”

Dropping my head to the side, I scrunched my forehead, not understanding.

“I couldn’t show you how happy I was because I was terrified that this baby, our baby, meant that you would have to walk away from your dreams. From Paris. The whole thing and I nearly lost you over that before. I want a baby with you so badly, I could,” he shook his head, “scream. But I know that I can’t ask you to give up your life....” his voice cracked and he stopped and took a deep breath. “And I couldn’t,” he closed his eyes and I could see the agony in his face. “I could not stay here if there was a possibility that you were going to tell me that you weren’t....going through with the pregnancy.”

That was it. My tears fell. Thick and hot like lava down my face.

Reaching forward, I pulled the black box, sliding it closer to me. Popping it open, I wasn’t surprised in the least. It was perfect. Gorgeous. The quintessential engagement ring. A massive diamond, prong-set, brilliant cut, with a simple white gold band. It was stunning.

I took a deep breath. “I walked around all day today by myself. Before you, I had always been on my own. So, I had this picture, this clear picture in my mind of who I was and what I wanted for myself. I want to dance, Ivar. I am a dancer.”

Glancing up, I saw his eyes were closed, his jaw tight.

“Ivar,” he opened his eyes and looked at me. The guarded look of the man I first met was back, his body tight, his shoulders tense. “I am a dancer and I will not, cannot, give that up and so I won't.” Leaving the ring box, I finally reached out and grabbed his hand. “But I won’t give you or this baby up either. Not a chance.”

Blowing air out his mouth, his eyes flashed wide.

“Yeah,” I nodded, knowing he needed more assurance.

“We are doing this?” he leaned toward me, his eyes large and hopeful.

“Yes, Ivar. We are doing this,” I smiled, the tears blurring my sight, “and I’m not going to marry you, but I will wear your beautiful ring. Proudly.”

“Sarah, I fucking love you.”

Both pushing back our chairs, we rose at the same time, rushing into an embrace. His large, strong arms wrapped around me; my face pressed into his chest where it belonged.

“I love you so much, Ivar.”

Tipping my head up, he kissed me and kissed me, pulling his hands back to reach up and cup my face.

“Come,” he took my hand pulling me from the dining room. “Lie with me, okay? I need to feel you beside me after last night... and I barely slept. I want to make love to you and then sleep.” Stopping he glanced back, his expression looking worried. “Carefully. We’ll do it carefully.”

Snorting, I laughed at his earnest face. “Ivar, I can have sex.”

“No more on top though. That can’t be safe. I read half the goddamn internet on pregnancy last night. I can’t remember what it said about sex on top.”

Here is comes, I thought, he’s going to manage and research every detail during this entire pregnancy.

Turning back again, he drew his eyebrows together. “No more sushi or coffee.”

“Please!” I scoffed.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “No soft cheeses or long hot baths either. Nothing that could harm the baby. That’s my child inside of you Sarah. Shit,” he stopped, scanning the walls of the hall, “Maybe we should buy a house...,” he seemed to be talking more to himself.

Smiling, with my heart full of love, my mind swirling with questions about the future, I followed him to our bed.

---

Had I given up on my dream? Possibility. I think my dream changed though. I realized it that day sitting watching families in the park, playing, kids racing back to their moms or dads with a daisy, calling to be watched going down the slide. Yes, dancing in Paris would have been amazing, but what could possibly be more fulfilling than that. Us. A family together. I had sacrificed so much for ballet, but I would not sacrifice them.

After Alice was born, I stayed home and when she turned a year, I took a chorus position dancing again with the company. I was never away from her longer than four hours at a time and it was only three days a week. Not that Ivar ever put her down long enough for me to get my hands on her. I was even worried she’d be late to walk because of how much he carried her. I would joke that since her arrival, I was purely the maid.

He was a good dad. A great one. Hands-on, doing it all. Buying far too many pairs of shoes. She was two years old now, fierce and sharp as tac with more pairs of shoes than I had owned in my entire life. That was the problem with leaving her with her father while I was dancing. She got anything she wanted. He’d say, “But she wanted them. How can I deny her? And their patten, Sarah. Red patten.”

Sure, I had moments where I felt the loss of what could have been watching Nicole dancing lead. But nothing, absolutely nothing beat walking in after a performance to a dark apartment, stepping over various toys and books and finding Ivar and Alice cuddled up in bed, a wall of pillows built along the side where I would slip in. Yeah, nothing beat that. This was my dream. This life. The three of us together.

“Hi,” he whispered, lifting his head, as I settled into the eight inches of room left in the bed.

“Hi.”

“How did it go?”

“Good.”

His eyes held mine for a moment. “Just good?”

I laughed.

“Shhh,” he hushed. “Don’t you dare wake up my daughter.”

Rolling my eyes, I smiled back settling into the pillow, Ivar’s face just visible above Alice’s wild blonde hair.

I shrugged, “I might be ready to leave the theatre.”

Surprised, he lifted his brows but waited for me to continue.

“They’ve been great these last months but...I think it’s time. I had to go back for a while to see what it was like but, I’m missing out on so much here. I hate not having supper with you guys on show nights and not kissing her goodnight.

“I know babe, but we do okay.”

“I know you do but I’ve been thinking about teaching again. Making my own schedule.”

“Didn’t that little place close?”

“It did but what do you think about the sound of The Pearson School of Dance?”

“Oh!” he smiled, “you have been thinking about this.”

“Yeah, here and there. She won’t be little forever and what if we have a second?”

“True,” he grinned, his eyes gleaming.

“So, what do you think?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah,” I lifted up, resting on my elbow.

“I like the sound of The Lothbrok School of Dance better?”

Glancing down, I looked at Alice. Her sweet cherub face and her puffy upper lip swooping out from under her little nose. God, she looked peaceful when she slept.

Smiling, I looked back up. “Okay.”

“Okay? Yeah?”

“Let’s do it.”

“The school?”

“All of it. I want to be a Lothbrok too.”

Lifting his head off the pillow, he squinted his eyes. “You’ll marry me?”

“Yes.”

Smiling, he reached his hand out and I grabbed on, awkwardly holding it above our sprawled out toddler.

“Want to meet me on the couch and talk about it?” He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with his smile.

Laughing lightly, I squeezed his hand. “You mean, meet on the couch and start on baby number two?”

“Fuck yeah, sounds amazing.”

@youbloodymadgenius @naaladareia @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog @yourpurplequeen @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @hexqueensupreme @littlecarolina94 @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @blonddnamedhandz @waiting4inspiration @zuxiezendler @heavenly1927 @jzr201 @hecohansen31

#modern ivar #ivar and sarah #ivar and aethelswith #ivar fanfic #vikings ivar #ivar lothbrok #Ivar The Bonless #ivar ragnarson #ivar smut #vikings smut #ivar love #ivar romance #ivar slow burn #Ease the dawn modern au

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midknight-sentinel · 4 years ago

Text

Anonymous shield-sibling said:

♚ - a memory of something paranormal

memory meme

Fingers trailed along old, ancient stone. The sounds of his own footsteps echoing through the empty, abandoned halls of one of Kher Lodur’s many temples. He had found himself travelling, on a mission for the Slayer before their mighty crusade against the forces of Hell-- before they’d reach the shores and reach Nekravol.

Hallkel was accompanied by a man, with his silver hair put back into a tight bun with the sides of his head shaved, sapphire-colored eyes flicking around the room with a bit of stubble on his face. He had a sharp jawline, and wore much more lighter armor-- with leathers and silk cloth, being a few different shades of green and teal, and a silver trim. He had his arm wrapped around Hallkel’s shoulders, while his other hand gripped tightly at a torch, lifting it up to lead the way. “ ...Should be around here... ” Eunokh mumbled, as Hallkel’s lighter-colored blue eyes drifted to him. “ Ser Eunokh... ” Hallkel murmured, “ Will it truly be here to help us? If we are unable to find it... ”

“ You worry too much. ” Eunokh responded with a huff of a laugh, a smirk spreading across his face. “ And, hey. Told you to just call me Eunokh, Lord Eindride. ” He nudged Hallkel’s side, making the white-haired Argentan laugh as they pressed on.

They were travelling down a long, wide hall, with engravings and murals on the walls, of ancient Sentinels and battles along the walls, of gods and kings, with torches lining the walls that had long since died out. Eunokh whistled a bit as he slowly unwrapped his arm from around Hallkel, looking around the hall. “ Hall of Kings, huh? ” He mumbled, as Hallkel cracked a little grin in excitement. He lifted his hands off of his gleaming, pristine helm, strapping it to his side and rushing to get his journal from underneath his armor, getting his small pen (that he admittedly took from his previous officer before he rebelled), and began to write down what he could. Eunokh just looked at him, entertained by his joy for the history of such an old place.

“ T-This is amazing...! ” Hallkel muttered after a moment, “ To have so much history in one room, of our people from even before the Maykrs! ” Eunokh could hear him scribbling on, and it made him chuckle, but he suddenly quieted down... Making Hallkel lift his head. “ Nokhie? ” He softly asked, his tone swiftly being filled with worry as the other man shushed him quickly. The two stood in silence in the dark, dusty halls, and all they could hear was their breathing. That is...

Until the torches suddenly began to come to life, lighting up with a light swoosh of flames, blue light coming from them as the halls suddenly lit up, more and more, making Hallkel suddenly tense up. The Night Sentinel rushed to put his journal away, grabbing at the hilt of his sectioned sword, while the Inquisitor had gotten his dagger out as some form of self-defense, dropping his torch onto the floor. “ Who is there?! ” Hallkel called out, “ I am Lord Hallkel the Voice Weaver of House Eindride! Show yourself! ”

“...Ｅｉｎｄｒｉｄｅ.” An otherworldly, disembodied voice softly spoke in the thin air of the halls of murals, as Eunokh scowled a little. Keeping his dagger level with what could have been around them, Eunokh frowned a bit when he chose to speak, “ And I’m Inquisitor Eunokh. ” He grumbled out, “ His servant. ” Such a response definitely upset Hallkel, as his head turned to him with a look of disappointment at him using such a title. The two looked around warily, before the voice spoke again, “ Ｗｈａｔｄｏｙｏｕｓｅｅｋｉｎｔｈｉｓｈｏｌｙｐｌａｃｅ？”

Hallkel furrowed his brows a little, straightening his posture as he kept his hands on the hilt of his sword, beginning to slowly step forward. His eyes drifted around the room, slowly, trying to find the source of the voice still. However, he saw nothing. He had been focused on the end of the hall, which they were now close to. The hall had opened up to a large sanctuary, with the dome-like ceiling being decorated with murals of paragons, stone statues of Night Sentinels lining the walls in ancient armor, armed with swords that were stabbed into the floor. The floor, itself, was covered in water, save for a bridge that led to a large altar (or, perhaps, a sarcophagus?) in the center of the room.

Taking a deep breath, Hallkel picked up the pace as he walked along, Eunokh having to jog to catch up to him. Eunokh furrowed his brows a little, as he mumbled, “ ... say something. ” to the Night Sentinel. The Sentinel grunted a bit, but he lifted his head and began to speak, “ We desire the Blade of Sigewulf, to battle the demons on the shores of Hell and to protect our home! ”

He suddenly felt a chill up his spine, his whole body freezing up as his eyes stared at the altar in the distance. No, it wasn’t an altar at all... It was indeed a sarcophagus of sorts. It was in the shape of a man, lying on his back, his stone hands clasping at a carefully-crafted hilt, with old cloth around it and a moon-shamed pommel, though no sign of a blade. Suddenly, Hallkel stepped forward again with a light shiver, squeezing his eyes shut. Eunokh could see it, and he had rushed to Hallkel’s side, grunting a bit and gripping at the man’s free hand. “ Hey. ” Said Eunokh, furrowing his brows a little. Hallkel turned his head back to him, swallowing hard, about to say something-- until Eunokh spoke again. “ We’re in this together, sol’num. Right? ”

This had gotten Hallkel to crack a smile to him. A bright one. And, instantly, Hallkel was feeling pretty relieved. Knowing Eunokh was there to support him... it helped him relax, knowing that. Hallkel opened his mouth to him to say something, only to flinch when the voice spoke again, and a wind blew through the halls, sweeping into the room and sending Hallkel’s braid whipping about, while Eunokh had ducked his head down, arms up over his head to shield himself from the strong winds the best he could. “ Ｔａｋｅｔｈｅｂｌａｄｅ，ｔｈｅｎ，Ｓｅｎｔｉｎｅｌｓ．Ｐｒｏｔｅｃｔｙｏｕｒｈｏｍｅｆｒｏｍｔｈｅｕｎｈｏｌｙ． ”

Then... the wind faded, as Hallkel glanced back to his companion, “ A-Are you alright, Eunokh? ” He quietly asked, helping him stand straight, before warily looking around the room. That voice... it weirdly felt familiar, but Hallkel couldn’t ever put his finger on it. Masculine-sounding, deep, intense, gravelly... But he couldn’t put his fingers on it. Eunokh’s eyes drifted up to him, and he nodded, trying to straighten up his own hair the best he could. “ Y-Yeah. Let’s just get the sword already, huh? ” He asked. Hallkel nodded with a little determined grin, and took his hand, pulling him along to rush along the bridge. “ H-Hey, hey, hey, hold on! Not that fast! ” Eunokh sputtered out, with Hallkel chuckling-- he knew to treat this place with respect... but they needed to get the sword quickly. Quickly. Before they dealt with any demons. “ Then make yourself go faster, Eunokh, my love! ” He said back to him with a little laugh, as Eunokh scowled at him, the two getting closer and closer to the sarcophagus...

...

...Hallkel breathed out a tad as he looked down at the hilt. It was no Crucible-- certainly not as strong as one, but it’s saved Hallkel’s life countless times. He stared down at the hilt, before lifting it up and flicking his wrist. Almost instantly, it lit up and came to life, a large blade of red energy extending from the hilt, burning brightly against the snow while he stood there. He had to hold it like a greatsword, however, as he suddenly felt the weight of the blade, making him clench his teeth... It didn’t help all of his injuries ached at the sudden weight, especially on his arms and back... But, fuck it.

He’d fight with this until the end of his days when he’d find himself back in Hell... and he’d rip and tear, just like the Great Slayer would. Until it was done. Until his home was saved.

Kar En Tuk.

#☩they are no longer your people to save---question answered☩#☩i don my armor and my blade---ic☩#☩you are but one man---anonymous☩#☩they can only kill the body but not the soul---musings/headcanons/aesthetics☩#☩lost the way and spread all apart---EARLY SENTINELS ☩Verse☩#long post cw #//eunokh and hallkel?? yeah they got pretty gay when they were older lol #//hallkel is literally gonna commit deicide if he has to #//throw Fucking Down!!!!!!!!#//ill explain sigewulf in a future post bc he might be on this blog #//HEHEHEHEEEE LETS GOOOO

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ofstarsandvibranium · 6 years ago

Text

Let the Games Begin

Fandom: Marvel (CEO AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Reader

As requested by anonymous: May I please request meeting chubby!Bucky at a friends wedding? It could be smutty or not, whichever feels right for you💕 + I feel like Chubby!bucky needs more deep loving 😏 maybe not included into the SACS universe but god I neeeeed the smut

Warning: smutty smut

You couldn’t believe your old college roommate, Peggy, was married now! As you watched her father walk her down the aisle and say her “I do’s” with her new husband, Steve, you couldn’t help but think about how far you’ve both come.

You and Peggy became roommates in your second year in college. She was came to study business from England. With her pristine appearance and English lilt, you expected her to be snobby, but she was quite the opposite.

Peggy Carter was kind and fiery and an overall badass. She didn’t take shit from anyone and you admired that about her. You two became fast friends and had breezed through your college years together. Unfortunately, you lost touch after she moved back to England to support her parents after her older brother died. Years later, you receive a wedding invitation from her and here you are!

“Y/N!” you heard your name called in that familiar English accent.

“Pegs!” you squealed as you ran up to the new bride in the beautiful garden where the reception was held, “Congratulations!!”

She hugged you tight, “I’m happy you made it! It’s been so long and I’ve been so busy-”

You shook your head, “Peggy, no, I get it. I missed you like crazy, but I get it. You had a lot on your plate. But look at you now! You’re married!”

Peggy glanced over her shoulder, “Come on, then. Come meet, Steve!” she took your hand and led you over to the groom whom was chatting with the young flower girls, “Steve?”

The handsome blonde straightened up and smiled, “Yeah?”

Peggy pulled you closer, “This is my old uni roommate, Y/N!”

Steve stuck out his hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Thanks for being here on our special day.”

You shook his hand happily, “Of course! Peggy is an old friend! I can’t believe you guys are married!”

He chuckled, “I know. It’s-”

A hand slapped onto Steve’s shoulder, “Hey, man, my mom’s tellin’ me to get you guys to sit down. Things are gonna start.”

Steve nodded, “Alright. Oh! Buck, this is Peggy’s college friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is my best friend-” he gestured to the man that interrupted him.

Y/E/C eyes met striking blue ones and you felt yourself frozen in place, “Bucky Barnes, CEO of Winter’s Prosthesis.”

Bucky smirked, “That’s me. Hi, Y/N. Can I say what a pleasure it is to meet Peggy’s beautiful friend?”

Peggy and Steve roll their eyes in unison, “Bucky.”

He chuckles and takes a step back, “Alright. Alright. Get to your table or ma’s gonna have my head! See ya around, Y/N.” he gave you a wink and waltzed back an older woman who you assumed was his mother.

“Well, wedding duty calls. It was nice meeting you again, Y/N. I’ll see ya!” he waved and slipped his hand into Peggy’s.

With her other, she pulled you into a hug and then whispered in her ear, “Bucky’s single, by the way,” she released you and gave you a knowing look before following Steve to the head table so the reception could officially begin.

______________________

You had to admit, you kept eyeing Bucky the entire night. From afar, you observed him. His brown locks gelled back, his blue eyes twinkling like the stars in the sky, his smile brightening every time he spoke with someone he was familiar with. He was a handsome guy. He wasn’t fit like Steve. He had more of a chub to him, but that didn’t take away his attractiveness at all.

As if feeling your gaze on him, Bucky looked up, catching your eye. The previous times throughout the night, you would’ve looked away, but not this time. You smirked when you saw him licking his lips, his eyes raking over your body and then back up to your eyes again. He nodded to the hedge maze that was a short distance away, but still visible to the eye.

You nodded in agreement, finishing up the last of your champagne and grabbing your shawl, wrapping it around you before following Bucky to the maze closely.

He looked over his shoulder, making sure you were still behind him. There was a mischievous look in his eyes and you felt excitement and, probably, arousal fill your body.

He waited for you at the entrance, “Up for a little game, Y/N?”

You shrugged, a smile hinting at your lips, “Depends on the game.”

“Both of us go into the maze. If I find you, I get to do whatever I want with you. If you find me, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

You hummed in content, “What if we want the same things?”

“Then I guess it’ll be a win-win situation, huh, sweetheart?” he slowly backs into the maze, “Gimme a three minute head start. Then let the hunt begin.” he turned a corner and was out of sight. You could hear his footsteps against the loose rock pavement. You looked at your phone, anxiously waiting for time to go faster.

Once Bucky’s three minutes were up, you rushed into maze, taking the that you’d seen Bucky take and then you stopped to listen. You could hear him whistling, as if taunting you.

“Who’s gonna find who first, Y/N?” he sounds like he’s not too far away. You scramble taking turns left and right and going straight and going back and forth. Your blood was pumping. This was so thrilling and exhausting and frustrating and arousing.

“You know, I knew I wanted you from the moment I met you,” you hear him again, “I knew I wanted to worship your body. Will you let me do that, sweetheart?” you can hear the smirk in his voice, “I’ll make you feel so good.”

“And what if I find you, huh?” you question him back.

“I told you, baby girl, I’d let you do whatever you want to me.” you hear the rustle of rocks against the pavement. He’s close.

You press yourself up against the brush maze wall, hand covering your mouth to muffle your breathing.

You hear him getting closer and closer. You clench your fist tight, you’re just itching to jump him. As soon as you see even a sliver of him, you jump out and push him up against the maze, “Caught you!” you exclaim with a proud smile.

Bucky chuckled, “So you have,” his hands going to your waist and pulling you closer, “And what’re you going to do with me now.”

“I want you to eat me out,” you breath out confidently.

“Gladly,” he says with a wide smile as he shrugs off his suit jacket and begins to roll up his sleeves. You bite your lip as he slides onto his knees, hiking up your dress. Bucky’s breath hitches when he finds you bare, “No panties?”

You shrugged, “I didn’t want a panty line to show through my dress.”

He groaned, “I love when I have easy access,” he leans in taking in your scent, “Goddamn, baby, you smell so good.” he then takes your leg and hooks it over his shoulder to get better access to you. His fingers graze you and you jolt at the feeling, “It’s okay, Y/N. I said I’d make you feel good. And I always keep my word.” he leans in and his tongue delves into you immediately.

You throw your head back in pleasure, feeling the warmth and wetness of his tongue meeting the warmth and wetness of your pussy in addition to the scrape of his beard against your soft skin...It all feels amazing. Your fingers glide through his gelled locks and then grips them tight, causing him to moan into your pussy.

“Bucky,” you moan his name and he swears that’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“’M right here, baby. You want more? Want me to use my fingers?” he kisses your clit, making you whimper again. Fuck, he’s so hard right now. He wants to free his cock now, but only if or when you allow him to fuck you.

“Want your cock. Now!” you plead.

Well, that didn’t take long, he thinks joyfully to himself as he stands up, quickly undoing his slacks. He wants to feel your heat around him, he wants to feel you cum on his cock.

It’s now your turn to be pushed up against the hedge of the maze. Bucky picks up your leg and hooks it around the crook of his arm, his hard cock in the other hand.

“You want this, Y/N? You really want this?”

You nod, “Please, just fuck me. So tired of all the teasing!”

He chuckled, “Alright then.” he thrusts into you with ease, through gritted teeth he curses. The heated stares, the teasing winks, the arousing hunt for each other, it all built up to this, “You feel perfect, Y/N,” he mumbles against your painted lips.

His thrusts are hard and it pushes you further into the hedge, causing leaves and branches to poke and scrape at your back. But you didn’t care. All that mattered right now was Bucky’s cock in you.

His lips meet yours in a very heated kiss, your lipstick now smudging. Damn, your lips taste just as good as your pussy.

With every thrust, with every passionate and heat-filled kiss, you could feel yourself heating up, growing more and more aroused.

Bucky pulls away, bending back a bit so he could watch his cock disappear into your pussy over his rounded stomach. This was a sight to behold and one that he didn’t want to forget.

You heard giggling and then the shuffle of rocks some short distance away from you two.

“Fuck!” Bucky exclaimed in a hushed tone, “Looks like we don’t have much time, sweetheart.” without any warning, his thrusts are faster, harder, more desperate. He’s desperate for his release, desperate to feel your walls flutter around him as you cum, “C’mon, baby, don’t wanna get caught now, do we?”

You whimpered out a “Shit, Bucky!” eyes fluttering closed as Bucky fucks you as hard and silent as he could. You could feel the pressure building up inside you and you’re sure that Bucky knows too because his hand goes to your clit, rubbing fast circles around the hardened nub.

“C’mon, Y/N. C’mon, beautiful. Cum for me. Cum all over my cock. Will you do that for me, please, honey?”

You grip his shoulders hard, eyes tightly shut, “Buck-”

“Open your eyes for me. Wanna look into your eyes as you cum.” you gasp as your eyes shoot open, your jaw slackening as that wave of pleasure washes over you.

“Fuck yes. Shit, Y/N. Squeezin’ me so tight. So fucking good. Aw fuck!” you feel Bucky’s cum fill you, he’s still pounding you relentless, ensuring that every drop is inside you.

When his hips still, that’s when he pulls out, quickly tucking himself in and pulling his pants up. His helps pull your dress down and wipes away the lipstick from his lips and then yours.

That’s when Steve and Peggy find you two.

“There you guys are!” Peggy says with a smile, she looks even more beautiful in the moonlight. Her eyes go from you to Bucky to you again, a knowing smile appears on her face, “Getting to know each other?”

Bucky smirks, “Just a bit. Did you need us for something?”

Steve shook his head, “Was just wonderin’ where you guys were. Haven’t seen you for hours. How long have you guys been in here?”

You shrugged, “Not long. Know how to get outta here, by chance?”

Steve nodded, “Yeah. Just follow the right walls. They’ll lead you to the exit.”

“Great,” Bucky offered his hand to you, “Shall we?”

You slid your hand into his and followed him further into the maze towards the exit. His cum leaking down your legs.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #marvel #au #ceo au #chubby!bucky #slight smut

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years ago

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Essays in Existentialism: Atlantis 4

Previously on Atlantis

The morning came, steady and through flickering lights against the window, unstill and blinding like a disco ball and lava lamp worked together to form a hybrid. Even behind her eyelids, the patient could see the light dancing through the waters and window before trying to make her join the land of the living yet again.

The oil she was given to rub on her bruises smelled like sweet mint, and it stiffened slightly in the night on her rib, while the kelp compress left nothing more than a pale cut on her forehead and bruising around her eyes. With a small grunt, Clarke gave up to the whims of the underwater world, and opened her eyes as she pressed a hand against the soreness that slept still, sound and happy, in her muscles and bones.

Slowly, still fuzzy around the edges from the concussion, the world came into focus again, and Clarke found herself staring at the ceiling of the ornate room that had become her own during her stay. Rich blues and whites mingled in the most pristine and perfect marble she’d ever seen, while the rich tapestry that covered one wall burst forth in colors and a story, artfully done and purposeful.

Two days ago, she’d been on a research vessel in the middle of the ocean working with her mentor to discover a way to stunt evolutionary tendencies in viruses. Two days ago, she was a girl who didn’t fully believe in the myth of Atlantis, or that Aquaman was a king who ruled more people who could breathe under water.

But she woke up again in a bed that smelled like oranges and sunlight, wrapped in a blanket that was soft and stiff, like clothes dried on a clothesline. She’d eaten a dinner that consisted of her third grade favorite lunchbox lunch, with a reigning monarch in said potentially imaginary underwater country. And nothing made sense.

With no small showing of effort, Clarke propped herself up and sat on the edge of the bed, testing her body all over again, learning how it worked today, and being slightly amazed by how well it felt. The lingering soreness felt like she’d worked out too hard for a whole week straight, but was by no means as terrible as she’d felt less than ten hours ago. She sat there for a few moments and caught her breath, afraid to test her body, but knowing that she must. Clarke pushed herself from the bed and stood, balancing like a baby deer on its new legs.

Everything seemed to work well enough, and she was afraid of the potential pain, but true to the words she couldn't understand, the body began to heal and she found herself wincing for nothing at all.

“I guess I just put more on,” Clarke wondered aloud as she looked at the table across the room that held the ointments and bottles. “But what… how did she combine them?”

Making it across the room, she picked up an intricate bottle and tugged at the stopped, sniffing the inside as a black liquid sloshed about, seen through the pure blue of the bottle. The door cracked and began to open, and the new sound made Clarke drop the bottle so it shattered on the ground, covering the pristine floor with a rather stale smelling liquid.

“I’m sorry-- I didn’t-- I wasn’t sure anyone would come in, and I wanted to--”

“Ti káneis na-eme?” the same old woman asked, hurrying as much as her old bones and bent back would allow. “Tha dilitiriásete ton eaftó sas.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean--”

“Kínisi!”

The nurse pushed Clarke slightly as she began cleaning up the dropped liquid, careful to avoid touching it as best she could. Somewhere between shooting her a look and muttering something Clarke was certain was a curse, the nurse humphed and began cleaning up the shattered glass, her displeasure clearly apparent.

A knock tapped softly for a moment as Clarke proceeded to apologize again and get pushed away from trying to help. And if she couldn’t get more mortified of her current predicament, the embodiment of earthly perfection entered the room with a worried furrow.

“I just came to see if you would like breakfast,” Lexa offered, staring at the mess and offering her forearm to Clarke to help move her away from the clean up. “But it looks like you might be busy. Eínai óla kalá?”

“Peismatáris kai adéxia. Léte óti eínai meletitís?”

The princess chuckled and tried to swallow it when Clarke gave her a pointed look.

“That’s a very concentrated combination of venoms and plants, used as a slight numbing agent in the healing process,” she explained, translating very loosely. “More than a few drops would paralyze or potentially kill you.”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“You weren’t. She just finds it very difficult to believe you are someone who studies medicine.”

In an instant, Clarke snapped her eyes away from Lexa’s pretty green ones, and turned them on the old woman who put the discarded vial in her basket before setting up for another treatment.

“She should teach me instead of letting me nearly kill myself.”

“Althea is our best healer. She helped deliver me, and my mother, and my mother’s mother and father. Her knowledge would take you years to even start to understand.”

“Are you calling me dumb, too?”

“No, no,” Lexa hurried as Clarke crossed her arms. “Just that she knows enough to fill an entire library. She wrote the books on our modern methods. Books is plural.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s called me dumb a few times,” Clarke sighed as those elderly hands tugged on her shirt once again.

“She has,” the princess smiled and nodded. “I was--”

In an instant, her shirt was tugged up again, and Clarke realized that she was now showing off her stomach and ribs and much too much underboob to the future ruler of a futuristic underwater country that no one was ever allowed to visit. But she was stuck, and the princess was staring. Clarke knew that because she tried to maintain eye contact to pretend nothing bad was happening to her.

“Um, I was…,” Lexa furrowed again before quickly turning around when she met Clarke’s eyes. “I’m sorry. She’s much more intent on getting you better than we might have previously realized.”

“Whatever she’s doing is working. I feel better than I could have imagined.”

“Léei óti aisthánetai kalýtera,” Lexa explained.

Clarke watched as the old woman moved with her eyes nearly shut, the wrinkles covering every part of her face, wearing deep the long lines of living into her very fabric. All she did was hum slightly and press another compress to Clarke’s ribs.

“How do I… I want to thank her, for everything.”

The nurse tugged on Clarke’s jaw, pulling at her shoulders so that she could get a good reach on the wound on her head, repeating her process, though slightly more gently than the ribs.

“Efcharistó,” Lexa explained, peaking over her shoulder, thankful to find the stranger more clothed than before.

“Ef--ef--,” Clarke tasted the word, attempting her best to get over the hump of saying it. “Efcharistó?”

For a second, the woman paused and nodded slightly. Clarke smiled and looked down at her side before holding her hand against the fresh press while Lexa spoke with the healer, bowing deeply to her before earning a kiss on her forehead and a tap of a hand against her cheek.

Freshly ready to heal, Clarke felt full in the room with Lexa, and wasn’t sure what else there was to say or do. It took Lexa a moment to find the protocol.

“I came to see if you would like to eat, and… I can’t show you much, but you’ll be here for a few days while we prepare the Spindrift, and I could show you some things.”

“You don’t have to supervise. I’m sure you have other… princess things to do?”

“My mother is busy with her embassy, and my father is busy saving the planet. I currently have nothing planned,” Lexa explained, clasping her hands and letting them hang in front of her.

The crest on her shoulder was proud and ancient. The soft fall of her braids against the deep green and cream color of her frock was picture perfect, and all before breakfast was even served. The princess held an entire world together, and she was going to be the link between words, born of both.

And she was gracious enough to save Clarke’s life in her spare time.

“And I had a few questions about Land… if that’s okay?”

“Breakfast first,” Clarke decided, her smile warming as Lexa returned it at the offer.

“I can do that.”

XXXXXXXXX

“So this is just one of your gardens?” Clarke asked as she walked out onto the balcony that was so large she forgot it was suspended partly above the city.

Stacked, the buildings seemed dripping in greenery and elaborately inlaid, as if every story was intricately planned and prepared. There were bits that reminded Clarke of old textbooks or picture books from when she was a child and went through Egyptian and Greek Gods phases of learning. Giant statues, with limited features but strong poses, warriors and thinkers alike, stood guard throughout the city from the view. Towering figures held up buildings, while greenery and trees filled every inch, weaving together a lattice roof over the shops and buildings below. Sleek lines dictated the skyline.

Standing on the private balcony garden, Clarke surveyed much of the city she’d missed from her window view of the palaces back patios and gates. Now, she saw the dome that sat around the city, saw the architecture, felt the breathing, pulsating thrum of the entire place.

“It is. We have a few royal gardens. Some of the most prized and ancient plants are here, and are often open to the public.”

“But not today?”

“Only during the high holidays.”

It was lush and alive, the entire city was a steady noise and hum, but the gardens were quietly removed from it, shadowed in giant trees and overgrown shrubs she couldn’t quite place. Every way Clarke looked, she found something mesmerizing, something that brought up more questions, something she knew she’d never see again.

“How do you… How did you get all of this here?”

“Atlantis has always existed, even before the shift,” Lexa explained, her hands careful linked behind her back.

She walked perfectly straight, her gait natural and fixed, her body fluid. Clarke caught herself watching the princess as much as she watched the entire world around her that no other person who walked on land had ever seen. Chestnut hair in intricate braids, her strong brow, the green of her eyes, the soft slope of her chin and smile-- it was distracting, even in a palace.

“And you can breathe… underwater?”

The princess ducked her head and chuckled.

“Yes, all Atlanteans can breathe both. Evolution was as kind to us as the gods were.”

“I have so many questions, I can’t decide where to start.”

The pair wandered along the path as Clarke wracked her brain and overheated with the information. Lexa saw to it that they were left alone and undisturbed, the palace gates shut tightly and all entrances to the garden monitored by the guards she trusted the most. For just a few moments, she allowed herself to enjoy the company of the girl she saved, who had a peculiar way of looking at things, who blushed sometimes, right on the edge of cheeks.

“Maybe don’t ask any questions,” Lexa offered after a moment of quiet as they came to the edge. She took a seat on a planter wall under a flowering tree with big blue and purple petals. “Just live this moment.”

“Is that what you do here?”

“I do tend to enjoy my time in my home, yes.”

Clarke took a seat beside the princess, careful to hold her ribs as she readjusted.

“I want to know everything. It’s a curse, I’m afraid.”

“I suppose I’d be the same way on land,” Lexa acquiesced. “I wouldn’t know where to even begin, but something about sitting here, feeling, touching, tasting, hearing-- it’ll help you understand Atlantis more than any question.”

“I would actually imagine that the few questions I have about the field surrounding the city, or the evolutionary tactic of breathing underwater might be illuminating.”

Again, Lexa caught herself smiling, but she swallowed it and looked up at the light filtering through the branches and petals. She closed her eye and took a deep breath, willing the visitor to do the same.

Neither spoke, but rather took the time to enjoy each other’s company and the quiet moment that neither world would ever know about. Clarke listened, catching a far away laugh of a child playing something. She heard a hum and a rushing of water, she heard the long, drawn out caws of some kind of bird that existed within the microcosm. After a few minutes, she reached up and plucked a petal from the tree, careful not to disturb the rest of the large flower on the branch. It took up her entire hand, and she rubbed her fingers along it, feeling the thick, velvet touch it had, smelling the sweet, musky hint it hid.

Lexa watched as the stranger felt her world, and she wasn’t sure what she expected from Clarke, but she hadn’t expected her words to be taken quite to heart. For an instant, she almost believed she could see when Clarke began to understand and feel it, the ease and peace that came in the gardens.

“When I was young, maybe only five or six, my father took me on land,” Lexa explained. “He introduced me to his father. We went to a building, shaped like a long tube that had a light on top. He said it was where he grew up, and he showed me all of his things, and my grandfather showed me his world. I remember the taste of the salt in the air and the smell of the fishermen coming home. I remember the feeling of the net in my hand as I played with it. I remember my father sitting on top of this light with me, and he pointed to the entire world. I could see for miles and miles. He told me it was my job to protect my people from those on land, and it was my job to protect the land from all else. That was how we united the two. But I didn’t listen, not fully. I had an ice cream cone.”

Clarke watched as Lexa spoke, as she confessed and said more words than she imagined the princess ever normally said. It was not the story of a princess though, but rather that of a stranger, offering something innate, something of themselves.

“Are you not allowed on land?”

“No,” she shook her head curtly.

“You should come. See what you’re destine to defend.”

“I’m destined to complete much more training here,” Lexa sighed. “Once the world turned its back on my father, once they condemned Atlantis, he was forced to choose. He chose us.”

“But he still helps?”

“He’s not a heartless man.”

“It just seems incredibly selfless.”

“Being a good ruler is about seeing what others don’t, doing what others won’t, and being what others can’t,” Lexa recited.

“You’re a good person.”

“I try very hard.”

Clarke smiled at the honestly and looked at her own hands as her fingers knot themselves together. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her shoulder felt warm as Lexa somehow moved close enough so that they were now touching.

“If you ever change your mind, you could come on land. I’d show you around.”

“You would?”

“Fair is fair. I’m not sure we have anything this beautiful though,” Clarke confessed.

There was a grin. She saw it as Lexa’s eyes went dreamy. Clarke found herself leaning closer, her body moving on its own. Lexa searched Clarke’s face and shook her head.

“I don’t know. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

For a second, Clarke was swept up in green eyes and the lips that disappeared for an instant behind the peak of a tongue. It was entirely unfair that someone like Lexa, who saved her life, who cared, who gawked and awkwardly wasn’t sure how to move when her shirt slipped up a little, was also so entirely too delicious looking.

Instead of doing it, instead of leaning forward, Clarke looked toward the city below the palace, and she smiled slightly as a blush snuck up her neck.

“Are all Atlanteans so charming?”

“No, not too many.”

“Good to know.”

“Should I take you back so you can rest?”

“Don’t trust me to make it back alone?” Clarke teased.

“I do, but the rest of the guards might have a bit of doubt.”

Lexa stood up and held out her hand for the stranger to take. With no hesitation at all, Clarke took it and let herself be lead back into the palace.

XXXXXXXXX

Word reached the control room quickly that the King was on his way back, the crisis from outside officially dealt with, his aid offered and accepted for another victory. No news covered if there had been losses on the side of the Justice League, and the Queen wasn’t sure what mood he would return in, but was grateful he was at all.

Quietly, she surveyed the reports on her screen and grew more and more excited to see him, finally allowing herself the moment to reflect on the past few days and how hectic they’d been coupled with the constant nagging about his return.

But her husband was stubborn, and would always come home.

“I’m going to my chambers for the evening,” Meera announced as she stood, the rest of her entourage doing the same. “Monitor the fleets to the south and the shifting and quake potential off the coast of South America.”

“Yes ma’am,” the commander nodded.

“If my husband makes it home, please let the morning rotation know to push the meetings until the afternoon.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll take an update about the Spindrift as soon as possible.”

“I”ll get in touch now, your highness.”

“Goodnight, friends,” the queen paused at the door. “Today was a success.”

With her notes tucked under her arm, the queen made her way out into the hallway, her guard trailing slightly behind her, as she was known to prefer. It took a lot to run a nation, and it took a lot to unify two who didn’t want it. But she knew it was for the best, and she believed in it so much, she obsessed.

Slowly, the queen made her way down the hall, eager for things to return to normal.

As if on time, she heard an unfamiliar sound of what she thought to be her daughter laughing, though it died away quickly. Her pace slowed considerably as she approached the corner of the hall and she waved her guard to slow, taking their time before reaching sight of the two girls.

Looking decidedly much healthier, the girl from the land stood, her arm wrapped around Lexa’s for support though she walked much better, and looked to have more color in her cheeks than the last time Meera saw her. She was pretty, beautiful even. Shorter than her daughter, though not by much. Her hair was much lighter than she originally thought, and her eyes a bit lighter as well. She watched Lexa when she spoke, hanging on every word, her smile constant, while the princess spoke passionately before catching her earnestness and pulling back slightly.

The queen was barely moving as they paused at Clarke’s door. Lexa moved and dropped something in her hand, quick to try to pick it up, a blush on her cheeks as she opened Clarke’s door for her. The queen smiled to herself at her daughter’s antics, at how she struggled to say goodbye, at the fact that as soon as Clarke’s door closed, the princess leaned against the wall and sighed, collapsing under her own head.

It was only then that the queen picked up her pace, as if she hadn’t seen anything at all.

“Are you ready to take our guest back to land?”

“Yes, of course,” Lexa answered as she stood up straighter, losing the human in her movements. She was rigid with responsibilities.

“Your father is returning.”

“Good news,” she smiled, perking up slightly.

The mother and daughter gave each other a look, a knowing look, a certain look that they deciphered and danced around.

“We should walk and discuss a few things,” Meera decided.

As much as Lexa wanted to protest, to go back to her room, to sleep and forget, she knew that the suggestion wasn’t optional, and with a heavy head, she nodded.

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tiny-opal-essence · 5 years ago

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Pocket Paladin Chpt 8

Training

“Good morning paladins! I hope you didn’t forget about training today. I expect to see you all on the training deck in 15 doboshes. Every dobosh one of you is late, that’s an extra 5 doboshes more training for everyone before breakfast.”

Lance groaned as Allura’s voice rang over the comms.

Why does everything have to be so loud from this perspective?

He sat up and groggily rubbed his eyes. The bed creaked behind him as Keith did the same. He climbed off of his jacket and onto the nightstand while Keith walked over to the wall. Keith pressed his hand against the hidden panel and the closet opened.

It is amazing how you wouldn’t even know the closet was there. There aren’t even lines in the wall giving it away. Alien technology is pretty cool.

Keith started taking off his shirt, causing Lance to let out a small *gasp* at seeing him shirtless.

Mmm, those back muscles…Not now bi thoughts!

Keith turned towards him when he heard Lance, giving him an even better view of his chest.

“Do you mind? Don’t be weird. Just turn around.” Keith said.

“Sorry!” Lance turned away from Keith while trying to get his face to cool down.

Like he said, don’t be weird.

‘You know he doesn’t like you in that way.’

I know he’s straight, but I can still appreciate how good he looks.

‘But what would he think of you if he found out about your little crush?’

That’s why he’s not going to find out.

While Lance was thinking, Keith was going through something similar.

Keith had almost forgotten that Lance was in the room with him before he had *gasped*. He didn’t know why Lance seeing him shirtless was making him feel so weird. His cheeks felt warm and there was an odd tightness in his chest. Was he feeling embarrassed? He’d never felt embarrassed about his body before. Was he worried about Lance somehow using this against him? No. Whatever it was, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it as he finished getting dressed in his paladin armor. He didn’t have time to figure it out, as both he and Lance had to get down to the training deck.

“Are you done?” Lance asked his back still facing Keith.

“Yes. Are you?” Keith responded.

“I don’t have anything else to change into, so yeah.”

“Didn’t Pidge say that your armor had shrunk too? She gave that back, right?”

“Not yet. She wanted to try to boost the signal from it since it got scaled down. So for now, all I’ve got is the healing pod outfit. Lucky me.”

Lance’s outfit was starting to look less pristine than the day before. He wished that some of his other outfits had been shrunk too, like his jacket or even just his jeans. It would let him feel a bit of normalcy. He was glad that the picture of his family hadn’t been shrunk. If it had and he had lost it, there would be no way he would ever find it.

“We should get going before we’re late,” Lance said.

“Good idea. Do you want to go on my shoulder again?” Keith placed his hand down in front of Lance who quickly climbed on.

“Yeah. I like being closer to everyone else’s eye level. Less looking up or down on both sides.” Lance sat down between the collar of Keith’s armor and his neck and grabbed onto his hair once more. “Onwards, noble steed!”

“Really, Lance?”

“Hey, do you want to be late for training? Less talking more walking.”

Keith let out a slightly annoyed *huff* and started heading towards the training deck.

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

“I’m glad to see you’re all on time for once.” Allura glanced over at Lance when she said the last part. The others didn’t seem to notice.

Why does she have to say that? It’s not like I try to be late.

“Shiro suggested we do some more mind melding exercises due to the change in who’s piloting which lion. Everyone grab a headset.”

“What about me? I don’t think those come in my size.” Lance pointed out.

“Oh, that’s right. You can help monitor everything with Coran.” Allura decided.

“Ok.” Mind melding exercises may not have been Lance’s favorite, but he thought he could at least participate in them somehow like this.

“Don’t worry, my boy. There’s not much to it.” Coran assured Lance as he was handed over to him.

That’s not what I was worried about, but thanks.

“After breakfast, I can try to make one of these for you.” Hunk offered. “It might take a bit, but with some reverse engineering I should be able to figure it out.”

“I can help. I’d love to know more about how they work.” Pidge added on.

“That sounds like a good plan, but we shouldn’t waste any more training time,” Shiro commented.

Good to know my friends worrying about me is considered wasting time.

“Shiro’s correct. We should get started.” Allura stated as everyone except Coran went to sit in a circle.

“Alright paladins, you know the drill. Close your eyes and think about your connection with your lion.” Coran said.

Green and Yellow’s holograms popped up in front of Pidge and Hunk almost instantly. Blue appeared for Allura hardly a moment later.

“Excellent, Allura. Your bond with Blue has grown much stronger as of late.” Coran commented.

How come she’s so much better at this than I am?

‘You know why. It’s clear to anyone that Allura is the best choice for blue paladin.’

Well…Blue picked me first!

‘But she also abandoned you first, didn’t she? She cut you off as soon as someone better came along.’

While Lance was sorting through his thoughts, Keith was having a little trouble focusing. The lion in front of him kept switching between Red and Black. After a few seconds, Red appeared.

Shiro was having a similar struggle. Black would appear in front of him for hardly a moment before fizzling out in a burst of purple. It was obvious to anyone watching that he was trying to focus, but it had been so long since he remembered connecting with Black.

“Patience yields focus,” Keith said as the others felt Shiro’s struggle through the mind meld.

“I should have known you’d use that against me.” Shiro took a deep breath. Slowly, Black came into focus in all her glory.

“Well done paladins! It’s amazing how quickly you’re getting the hang of this new arrangement! Why I think you’ve done it faster than the paladins of old. Now, focus on Voltron.”

They’re better without me?

‘Of course they are. You were just holding them back.’

Slowly, the lions all moved towards the center of the circle. The arms and legs formed perfectly. As Black came closer to the others, her image shifted to form the head. Before it could connect with the rest of Voltron, the image became distorted and changed to something much more frightening.

Shiro ripped off the headset and stood up when he saw the face of Haggar appear. His breathing was heavy as the others removed their headsets.

“Are you ok, Shiro?” Hunk asked.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. Even though I’m free, it still feels like she’s holding me captive somehow.” He rubbed at his temples to try and get rid of his headache.

“That’s understandable. You were a prisoner for a while. It takes time to adjust back to normal.” Pidge said.

“There’s a part of me that feels like this is wrong, that it’s all some illusion she cast to trick me.”

“I assure you, this is real.” Allura grabbed Shiro’s hand.

“Yeah, if it was an illusion, do you think she would have had me be like this?” Lance gestured to himself.

“Haha, probably not,” Shiro responded with a smile.

“We’re here for you, Shiro.” Hunk said.

“We won’t let her get to you,” Keith added on.

“Thanks. I was hoping the mind-melding might help me get my thoughts together, or remember more of what happened, but it’s still mostly blank. I think I remember the second letter of the project name. It might be a u or maybe a double o. Definitely an oo sound, but that’s all I got.”

“Ok, so with that, we now have K or C followed by u or oo. So it’s a coo like sound.” Hunk thought out loud.

“Couldn’t it also be qu for the name?” Lance suggested.

“Maybe. Ok, so we’re a little bit closer to figuring out the name of the project.” Hunk added on.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t remember more,” Shiro said.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Shiro. Going through something like that and being willing to dig through the traumatic memories is a show of great courage.” Coran responded.

“It doesn’t feel very courageous.”

“It is. Courage cannot erase our fears, courage is when we face our fears.” Lance said.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Newsies.”

“Of course your advice comes from a musical,” Keith commented.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How about we all go get some breakfast?” Hunk stopped the argument before it could grow out of control. “Now seems like a good time for a break.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Allura added on.

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“It looks like he’s remembering more than we expected at this point,” Axha said.

“We’ll just have to move the time table forward then,” Lotor stated.

“But what if he remembers too much?” Ezor asked.

“That is of no concern to us now.”

“He seems to be having some doubts about being on the team. He is also acting slightly different than expected.” Axha pointed out.

“Not to worry. Any differences in his behavior will be written off as a side effect of being a prisoner. We need to keep monitoring the situation to make sure it stays that way for as long as possible.”

Kova *meowed* in agreement on Narti’s shoulder.

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After breakfast, Pidge, Hunk, and Lance had gone back to the training deck to get the mind meld headsets to bring to the workbench. They were eager to see how they worked so they could make one for Lance at his new height. Pidge had also finished boosting the signal in Lance’s paladin armor so the comms could reach as far as at normal height. Lance was just glad to have another outfit to wear besides the healing pod outfit.

Hunk was carefully taking apart one of the headsets while Pidge was digging through information in a book Coran had found for them in the library. Lance was sitting on the scale with Chuchule so they were out of the way.

“It looks like there should be sensors on the forehead, temples, and behind the ears.” Pidge looked at the blueprint in the text.

“I think I see them. Does it say anything about how to remove them?” Hunk asked.

“No, just information on who created them. Nothing on how they get an electroencephalography either.”

“What’s an electro-sif-ography?” Lance asked.

“Electroencephalography. It’s a way of measuring brainwaves. The sensors read the changes in the electrical field from the ionic current in your brain neurons.” Hunk responded as he reached for the pliers on the back wall of the workbench.

“Wait, brains have electricity?”

“Yep. There’s enough electricity in the brain to power a low-watt light bulb, though yours might only power a single Christmas light.” Pidge smirked at Lance before looking back in the book.

Was that a dig at my height, or my intelligence?

‘Both’

Hunk had the tip of his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he concentrated on removing one of the sensors with the pliers. He was so focused on the task at hand that he hadn’t heard the last bit of Pidge’s response to Lance. Slowly, but surely, the sensor was coaxed out.

“Got it!” Hunk grabbed the microscope and placed the sensor on a slide.

Hunk and Pidge started talking excitedly about the technology. Most of it went over Lance’s head because engineering wasn’t his forte. He decided to talk to Chuchule.

“How’s your day going?”

Chuchule gave him a thumbs up then pointed at him with an inquisitive look on her face.

“Mine’s going as good as can be expected. I’m still tiny, which sucks. No offense meant.” Lance was worried he might have accidentally insulted Chuchule since he was shrunk down to a similar height to her.

Chuchule waved one of her front paws and shook her head to show that it didn’t offend her.

“It’s just…yeah. How do you handle being this small?”

Chuchule shrugged her shoulders.

“I guess you always being like this makes it easier. Maybe you and the others can show me the ropes.”

Chuchule nodded enthusiastically before refocusing on what Pidge and Hunk were doing.

Pidge put the headset on the slide and looked at where the sensor had been. She and Hunk gushed more about the technology and what substitutes could potentially be used to make it in Lance’s size.

“It’ll have to be a helmet instead of a headset because of the size, but I think that will work.” Hunk said.

“We might have to visit the space mall to get some of the supplies.” Pidge thought out loud.

“Oooh! Can we go to the earth store when we go?” Lance was excited at the prospect of seeing something from home.

“Ummm. I don’t think you’ll be coming with if we go.” Hunk sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Why not? It’s just the mall.”

“You got into trouble at your normal height last time we were there,” Pidge said.

I remember you getting in trouble right next to me. Heck, we all got in trouble

“We all got in trouble last time-” Hunk began.

Thank you!

“-but there’s just too many people for it to be safe.”

“How is that any different from coming along on a recon mission?”

“For recon, we’re not trying to be seen and we would have our helmet comms. We can’t wear our helmets in the space mall. There, we would be talking to people, it would be loud, and if something happened, we might not realize until it’s too late.” Hunk replied.

“Don’t forget about the swap moons.”

“True, true. It’s just too risky.”

“Oh,” Lance said dejectedly.

“I can try to get a shark keychain for you if you want.” Hunk offered.

“Thanks.” Lance smiled slightly.

Hunk looked over at Pidge’s laptop and saw what time it was.

“We should go get some lunch before afternoon training starts.”

“Good idea,” Pidge said. Both she and Hunk placed a hand down in front of Lance as he climbed off of the scale.

“Uh, well, this is awkward,” Lance said as he looked between their hands.

“I want to carry him,” Hunk said.

“You already carried him here, I want a turn.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Well, he’s my friend too.”

“Guys, please. There’s plenty of me to go around.” Lance had his hands up in a calm down fashion.

Pidge let out a snicker before apologizing.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be laughing, but it’s just funny hearing you say that when you’re so tiny. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, that’s why I said it. Gotta try to have fun with this situation, right?”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Hunk said.

“Me too.”

“I’ve got an idea for figuring out who gets to carry you-” Pidge started.

Is it letting me decide?

“-Rock, paper, scissors.”

Of course not.

“How about winner gets to bring you to lunch, loser brings you to training?” Hunk suggested.

“Sounds good. Best of 3? Rock, Paper, Scissors!”

Every time their fists hit their palms, it reminded Lance of the close call with Shiro’s fist the day before. He knew that Shiro didn’t mean to do that, though he noticed that Shiro had been standing further away from him than the others after that event.

Shiro’s the only one who hasn’t held me like this. Is he worried that he might hurt me? Space-dad would never do that…at least, not on purpose.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Pidge let out a *whoop* of victory.

“Yes! I won!” She pumped her fists in the air. She came close to hitting the workbench and knocking Lance over the edge in her excitement.

“Fine, Kaitlyn.” Hunk yielded.

“Closer, but still not my name.” Pidge put her hand in front of Lance and the three of them went to get lunch.

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Keith and Shiro were also walking through the castle ship to get some food.

“How’s Lance rooming with you going?”

“Fine.”

“Have you two built any bridges yet?” Shiro said with a slightly teasing voice.

“No. Maybe. He talked about his family a bit. They seem nice.”

“It’s good to know you’re getting along better with him.”

“It’s kind of hard to talk with Lance.”

“Why is that?” Shiro looked over at Keith.

“I think it’s partially how we butt heads so much and another part it’s hard to get a word in. He can be so frustrating sometimes and then he says something I don’t understand. I still don’t get why the chant can’t just be ‘Voltron.’ It doesn’t have to be complicated!”

“If it’s that frustrating, we could see about him rooming with someone else.”

“No!” Keith and Shiro were both surprised by how quickly Keith responded. “I mean, I’m the safest option for him to room with. And like you said, we could build some bridges. I want to get along with him.”

“That’s good to hear. I hope you’re willing to open up to him as well.”

“That might take a while.”

“I know. I still remember how long it took you to open up to me.” Shiro let out a small laugh.

“That was years ago, Shiro. You can stop bringing it up, you know.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others. Let’s go eat.” Shiro said as they walked towards the kitchen door.

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“Am I the only one that thinks it’s a bad idea to train right after eating?” Hunk asked as everyone walked from the kitchen to the training deck.

“I agree,” Lance said from his position in Hunk’s hands. “If you have to wait an hour before swimming, it should be the same with training.”

“Lance, that’s an old wives tale,” Pidge commented.

“The reason we are training so soon after eating is because we don’t know when Voltron will next be needed. We will not always have the luxury of time to prepare.” Allura explained.

“I don’t see how this applies to me since I really can’t participate in the training,” Lance said.

“You are not getting out of training just because you went and got yourself shrunk, Lance,” Allura said with a strict tone.

Hey, I didn’t “get myself shrunk”. I stopped the spell from hitting Keith, but she’s making it sound like I wanted this to happen to me. I mean, sure, there have been times I’ve wanted to get out of training, but I wouldn’t shrink to do that.

“Well, what can I do? My bayard didn’t shrink with my armor and I can’t exactly fight the gladiator at this height.”

“We will find a way for you to participate.” Allura snapped before apologizing. “Sorry.”

“Are you ok, Allura?” Shiro asked.

“Yes, I was just up late reading last night. I don’t mean to be so curt. I believe I am merely tired.” She responded as they made their way onto the training deck. “Let’s get started.”

Hunk brought Lance over to a raised section of the floor which put him at about chest height with the others. Allura began leading the group in some stretching exercises.

It seemed that Lance hadn’t lost any of his flexibility, which he was glad for. It was one thing that was still normal.

After 5 quintants of that, Allura switched gears.

“Today, we are going to face the gladiator. Coran has upgraded it with the help of Slav’s blueprints, so it should provide more of a challenge.”

“What about me?” Lance asked.

“You can work on your endurance by running laps on the platform.” Allura decided. “Strength and endurance are both equally important in subduing an enemy.”

“Don’t worry, the gladiator won’t target you. It’s already been programmed to not go after the space mice, so it should perceive you as one of them and avoid you.” Coran stated.

“Ok,” Lance responded.

Should I feel offended by that? I mean, I know I’m a similar height to the space mice, but is that really enough for me to be written off as not mattering?

‘Looks like you answered your own question.’

“I wonder if we could build a tiny treadmill for you.” Hunk thought out loud.

“Or we could avoid going through all that trouble and just get a hamster wheel. Haha.” Pidge suggested.

I’m not some kind of pet!

“As adorable as that sounds-“ Shiro tried to hide his smile “-that would be a bit demeaning to Lance.”

“What is a hamster? And why would it need a wheel?” Coran asked.

“A hamster is a type of pet back on earth. They’re similar looking to the space mice, but a bit bigger. A hamster wheel is a wheel that is held off the ground that they can run in place in to exercise.” Hunk answered.

“That’s a very practical piece of equipment,” Allura commented.

“It is, until you remember they’re nocturnal and are always running like crazy when you’re trying to sleep.” Keith’s tone let everyone know he was speaking from experience.

“Didn’t take you for the hamster type,” Lance said.

“I’m not. It wasn’t mine.”

“Well then whose-” Lance started to ask before Allura interrupted.

“We should focus on the task at hand. There’s still training to be done.”

Again with the talking over me. Why?

Allura got in her stance. “Whenever you’re ready, Coran.”

“Paladins in position?” Coran said from the control panel at the edge of the room. “Go!”

The gladiator-bot dropped from the ceiling and wasted no time in picking its first target. With every lap that Lance made on the stand, someone else was facing the robot. Pidge. Hunk. Shiro. Allura. Hunk again. Keith. Back to Shiro. Lance found himself slowing down as he watched the rest of the team train.

“Keep running, Lance. This is no time to be slacking off.” Allura called out.

How did she even know I had slowed down? She was facing the other way. Do Alteans have eyes in the back of their heads?

Lance picked up the pace, but still took notice of who was facing the gladiator-bot. Keith. Allura. Pidge. Hunk.

Ooo that had to hurt.

Lance winced as the floor opened up beneath Hunk. The room it brought those who fell in training to was actually right next door with a one-way wall/door kind of thing so they could still watch the others train and see ways they could improve. The bot continued fighting with its staff.

Shiro. Pidge. Allura.

And the robot just threw her across the room. Ok.

Keith. Pidge. Shiro. Pidge.

That might leave a bruise.

Shiro. Keith. Still Keith. Now Shiro. Back to Keith. Shiro once more.

Why is it looking at me? Shiro and Keith are both on the other side of it.

Lance stopped running and stared back at the robot.

And now it’s moving closer. Oh quiznak!

Lance backed up to the edge of the ledge. He knew he wouldn’t survive if he jumped off, but he didn’t have anywhere to go. That was the most distance he could put between himself and the gladiator that was now targeting him.

The gladiator raised up its staff and started to bring it down towards Lance.

There was a terrible *clang* as Lance dove out of the way on the platform. He looked up and saw that Keith had managed to get all the way across the room to stop the blow. He couldn’t see his eyes since his back was facing him, but given that Keith was growling slightly, he was willing to bet they were yellow.

In his hurry to protect Lance, Keith wasn’t able to get in a strong stance. The gladiator shoved him out of the way and the floor opened up around him. The robot raised its staff once more, but before it could strike, it was stabbed through from behind by Shiro's prosthetic. Keith’s attack had distracted the gladiator long enough for Shiro to get to Lance.

Lance covered his head with his arms as small pieces of the robot fell around him. The door in the one-way wall opened and the rest of the team ran over to him.

“Lance! Are you ok?!” Hunk asked.

“I’m still in one piece.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I thought you said that it wouldn’t target him?” Keith glared over at Coran.

“It shouldn’t have.” Coran was opening panels and looking at the wiring to see what had happened. “It should only target paladins, unless we’re doing a protection exercise. Why did it go after Lance?”

“It might be that the system still sees Lance as a paladin.” Pidge ran over to help Coran figure out what had gone wrong. “The tracker in his helmet still works even after it was shrunk, so it must be picking up on that. We might just have to erase Lance’s data from the system.”

“But I have the best score for the shooting range!”

“You can get the high score again once you’re back to normal,” Shiro assured.

“I believe now is a good time to be done with training. We’ve had enough scares for one day. We will continue this session tomorrow.” Allura decided.

“I could really go for a shower right now,” Lance said.

“That won’t be happening for a while. You might wind up going down the drain. That, and the water pressure would definitely knock you off your feet.” Pidge stated.

“Well, then what would you suggest?”

“…I think I’ve got an idea.” Hunk ran out of the room.

“Well don’t just stand there. Let’s see what his idea is.” Pidge said.

Pidge, Allura, and Coran ran after Hunk. Keith started toward the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Shiro pointed to Lance.

“Can’t you grab him?”

“Why can’t you?”

“You’re the only one who hasn’t had a chance to carry him,” Keith responded.

“Yeah, and you should do it soon, cause I won’t be like this for much longer.”

I hope.

“I don’t feel comfortable carrying him. I still feel on edge and I’m worried something would go wrong. We’ve had enough close calls for one day.”

“Come on, Shiro. When else are you going to get a chance to carry someone in the palm of your hands?” Lance asked.

“I would rather not literally hold your life in my hands. What if my arm glitches and you get hurt?”

“Pidge checked for any glitches. You’re in the clear.” Keith responded.

“I have this nagging feeling that there’s something we missed.”

“If you’re that worried, I can just hitch a ride with Keith. It’s not a big deal. Let’s just go see what Hunk’s idea is.”

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“That was risky, Narti. If they had suspected tampering with the gladiator, they could have discovered our virus.” Axha commented.

Cova *meowed* on Narti’s shoulder.

“You have to admit, it was pretty brilliant,” Zethrid added on. “And watching them fall all over themselves to protect him was priceless.”

“Yeah, if we hadn’t been studying them so much, we wouldn’t have known they would blame it on operator error.” Ezor contributed.

“Nevertheless, it was a risky endeavor. If he had been killed, this would be all for naught. We must tread lightly in our spying.” Lotor reminded his team of what was at stake. “Everything depends on getting him alone.”

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Hunk’s idea had been a bowl. He had explained that since it’s what the space mice used, the same could apply to Lance because he’s a similar height to them.

It was kind of like taking a bath in a hot tub, albeit one without jets, but still nice. Having to have someone be in the room with him was annoying, even though he knew he was only there in case something happened.

Keith was sitting on the floor, back against the nightstand the bowl was on. He had only commented a little bit about how many different products Lance used. Shampoo, conditioner, face mask stuff, and a few other ones that Keith couldn’t identify for the life of him.

The bottles were set up on the edge of the nightstand to act as a wall to give Lance some privacy. There were small amounts of the different products on the edges of the bowl for easy access, small being a relative term. A washcloth was hanging on the edge of the bowl so Lance could get in and out on his own.

There was an extra set of the black under armor on the nightstand next to Lance’s dirty one. Lance hoped that Coran was right in that it would shrink to fit, otherwise he’d only have the outfit he was shrunk in and the healing pod outfit.

Lance looked down at his hands.

“*gasp* I’m pruning!”

“That tends to happen when you spend so much time in the water,” Keith commented.

“Hey, it’s been a while since I’ve been able to go swimming, so I’m going to enjoy this as long as possible. Besides, I still have a minute until I can rinse off my face mask.”

“It must be like an ocean to you.”

“More like a hot tub, but still better than the pool in the castle. How the cheese is the water like that? Water doesn’t float, things float in it!”

“We could talk to Coran and Allura about that.”

“Nah, I don’t want to bother them. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“And smaller.” Lance could hear the smile in Keith’s voice.

“Oh my gosh, did you just make a pun?”

“I’m allowed to make a pun if I want to.” Keith had to resist the urge to turn around and glare at Lance’s face masked face.

“It just sounds weird coming out of you. You’re a hard guy to figure out.”

“Well, is there anything you want to know about me?”

“Yeah, I want to hear more about the hamster. Why did your family have one if you couldn’t stand it?”

“They weren’t my family. I just lived with them for a little while.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Not a lot of people do.”

“Hey, my lips are sealed. So, about the hamster.”

“Mr. Fluffy Cuddles was-”

Lance started laughing. “His name was Mr. Fluffy Cuddles? That’s hilarious.”

“Anyways, Mr. Fluffy Cuddles was their daughter’s pet. She would put him in princess dresses and carry him everywhere. I was in the room furthest from his cage, but was the only one that was bothered by him running late at night. Apparently, I was the only one that heard it. I guess now we know why.” Keith pointed to his ears. “He kept me up so late some nights that I was falling asleep in class. One day, I got so annoyed, that I went over to his cage while he was sleeping and started banging on it saying ‘How does that feel? Huh?’ thinking that would get him to stop.”

“You actually thought that would work?” Lance asked.

“I was 8. And all that did was get me put in a different home and labeled as difficult, troubled, and potentially violent. They recommended against me being put in a house with other children and especially not in one with small pets.”

“You do good with the space mice.”

And me. Wait, would that mean I’m thinking of myself as a pet? I’m gonna stop that thought right there.

“Well, it’s mostly Plachu that hangs out with me while I’m training. I’ve caught him mimicking some of the moves. He’s actually pretty good.”

“That’s adorable!” Lance washed off his face mask.

“Yeah.” Keith chuckled slightly. “How long did Allura say it was until we reached Olkari?”

“I think we’ve still got a varga, maybe a bit less.” Lance climbed out of the bowl using the washcloth. He grabbed a Kleenex and dried himself off.

“Let me know when you’re done changing. My leg’s starting to go numb.”

“Will do.” Lance approached the bundle of clothing that was the black under armor.

Hopefully Coran is right.

Lance stepped into the head hole and saw the hole start to get smaller. It changed at a quick but gradual pace. Soon enough, the under armor fit him like a glove.

“I’m done.”

Keith stretched his arms over his head.

“Finally. I was starting to think you might have turned into a mermaid.” Keith turned around so that he was on his knees facing the nightstand.

“I wish. Then these looks would be all natural.”

“I still don’t get why you need so many of these.” Keith moved some of the bottles of products to the side and rested his chin on his hands on the nightstand.

“Hey, I take care of my body. If you love the skin you’re in, you need to show it some appreciation. You might want to consider using some of them.”

“No thanks.”

“Keith.” Lance approached Keith’s face and slapped his cheeks with his hands. “I can see your pores. They’re dying.”

“My skin is fine.”

Lance realized just how close he was to Keith’s lips when he responded.

Wow. If I took a few steps forward, it would be like he was kissin-

‘Don’t make it weird.’

Yeah, this is kind of close.

Lance took a few steps back and looked away while awkwardly coughing in his fist.

Keith hadn’t expected Lance to get so close. He had to cross his eyes slightly so he could see him clearly. When Lance hit his cheeks, he hardly felt it. He tried to not breathe too hard when he responded since Lance was right in front of him. That weird tightness in his chest was back.

Lance suddenly backed away from him and coughed in his fist. Keith wondered why he had done that. Was he doing the whole ‘no homo’ thing that every other straight guy did? He saw the slight pinkish tint to Lance’s face and realized he must have felt nervous. Keith knew that he could be intimidating without trying to be, but it was hard to imagine what that would look like from Lance’s perspective.

“Um…sorry I…um…” Lance tried to string his word together.

Why did I have to go and make things so awkward? All because of this stupid crush I have on his stupid self with his stupid hair and his stupid beautiful smile. Ugggh, I’ve got it bad. Why does he have to be straight?

“I’m going to drop you off with Pidge and Hunk while I go take a shower.” Keith stood up and offered his hand to Lance.

“Sounds like a plan. I hope the Olkari have the supplies they’re looking for.”

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Realities without a Lance: 69 (+15)

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#pocket paladin #voltron #vld #klance #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t klance #g/t writing #Stories #Keith #Lance #Shrunk #shrinking

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backtothestart02 · 6 years ago

Text

25 Days of Westallen Fanfiction: Day 19 - A Day in the Life

A/N: I changed the title so it wouldn’t be repetitive with the synopsis. It also allows this to be a multi-chap potentially in the future of different scenarios of WA being cute parents in love. Enjoy this installment for now.

Dedication: @tooold-toship - a little late since her birthday was on Christmas Eve, but here you go, hun! Enjoy!

(*Many thanks to @jade4813 who let me borrow the bit about Don and Nora getting their speed gradually as children instead of immediately when they were born as inspiration for my fic - I thought it was so genius when I saw it incorporated in the fic she wrote for me that I decided to write a variation of that in my own gift for someone else.)

*Big thank you to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Synopsis: Barry and Iris help prepare their five-year-old twins for their Christmas Dance recital.

...

It was Saturday.

Iris knew this instinctively, even in that place between sleeping and waking.

Her alarm had not gone off. She was aware of the warmth of the comforter surrounding her, and the quiet pitter-patter of rain drops on her bedroom window was easily lulling her towards the sleep end of the spectrum.

At a time like this, few things could successfully knock her out like cuddling up to her husband and feeling his arms wrapped around her. She reached across the bed for him, eager to take the last step into unconscious bliss, but instead her hand came into contact with bare sheets. They weren’t particularly warm either. The sudden bang coming from downstairs in addition to some shushing made her eyes flash open and her body snap up to a sitting position. But the following whispered words that somehow rose to their bedroom informed her there was no cause for alarm.

“Shh, Mommy’s still sleeping.”

Oh, that’s right. She was a mother of two, and today was their Christmas recital.

Reluctantly, she tossed the comforter and sheets aside and slipped into some fuzzy slippers. Then she pulled on her robe, tied it into a double knot and proceeded to descend down the staircase.

“Okay, one more time, guys, then Daddy will make breakfast. A one, a two, a one-two-three-four-”

Iris watched as Barry at first initiated and then silently backed away to leave their twins doing an impressive dance number in a neat line in front of the dining table.

Iris couldn’t help herself. She clapped enthusiastically from the bottom of the staircase after they’d finished.

“Mommy!” The twins both gasped, looking straight at her, horrified and then sheepishly away. “Daddy, we’re-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, kids,” Barry said, coming up from behind them and tousling their hair affectionately. “I’m sure it was your mom missing me in bed that woke her up and not Donny losing his footing and accidentally pushing the couch over, knocking the table down and sending the lamp crashing to the floor,” he said, but it was all in amusement and not scolding, even if Don blushed fiercely at the reminder. “Right, honey?” He winked.

But Iris’ planned playful response vanished from her mind at the mention of ‘crashing to the floor’. Her eyes immediately sought out the evidence of said crash. There were some scrapes on the floor from the couch moving and the table toppling over, but just about everything else looked to be okay. The lamp was set against the far wall though. Iris pointed at it and looked at Barry.

“The bulb shattered,” Barry explained. “We can pick up some more when we’re out later today, I think.”

Don’s face was downcast.

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay,” Barry assured. “Accidents happen. When I was your age, I was knocking things over all the time! Isn’t that right, Iris?”

But Iris had a single eyebrow raised.

“When you were his age, Bear? Honey, you still do that.” She crouched down so she was at eye-level with her twins. “You guys have seen Dad play baseball, right?” She cringed, and the twins followed suit.

Barry almost mentioned cooking. He was incredibly close to pointing out how at least he could cook. But he figured he could swallow his ego for the sake of the adorable moment unfolding right now with his little family. So, instead he laughed, indulging them.

“All right, guys, why don’t I make us all some pancakes? Enough excitement for one morning anyway.”

“Yaaay!” the twins cheered, and Iris smiled.

“Come on, guys, you can help me set the table while Dad starts breakfast.”

Eagerly the five-year-olds trailed after their mother into the kitchen and handled the plastic plates and cups with care on their way to the dining table. Iris stopped to give her husband an appraising look from head-to-toe. He locked eyes with her, knowing what that look was for. His woman was undressing him with her eyes and forcing him to redirect his thoughts lest he develop a boner in front of their children.

Iris’ latest kink had been seeing her husband be such a Dad with their adorable children. He only wished they could squeeze in some alone time before they took off for the recital that evening. He muttered something incoherent after she left, trying to suppress the semi-arousal when her lofty giggle reached his ears, setting off a series of delicious sensations.

“Daddy, hurry up! We’re hungry!”

He cleared his throat and shook himself out of it.

“Coming right up, Princess,” he responded, enacting his super speed to make this breakfast a speedier one. The giggle from his daughter successfully redirected his thoughts, and for the morning at least, he didn’t have to worry about that type of embarrassment unfolding.

…

After a day of some playtime and a few more practice rounds, Barry and Iris prepared their kids for the concert and headed over to the lavish ballroom in downtown Central City. Iris was particularly fussy over their kids’ appearances, but the two pristine looking five-year-olds pushed her away when they spotted their teacher near the entrance.

“They look great, Mrs. West-Allen,” their teacher assured her, and Iris felt a twinge of embarrassment for herself mixed with pride in her darling children.

“Thanks, Mrs. Beesly.”

The woman nodded and took a hand from each of the children in her own, heading behind the curtain and down the long hall to where the rest of the participants were located.

“C’mon, Iris,” Barry urged, brushing her elbow. “Let’s go find our seats.”

She shook off her nerves at leaving her babies and focused instead on her husband, who was looking incredibly sexy and looking at her much the same way she had looked at him that morning.

“Are you sure that’s all you want to do, Mr. Allen?” she asked sultrily, sidling up to him.

He chuckled but made a mentally ordered his lower regions to calm down.

“That’s all we can do right now, Mrs. West-Allen,” he said into her ear. “Unless you want to miss out on our kids’ amazing dance routine during the opening act?”

She sighed regretfully. “I suppose you are right.” She drew her finger down his shirt till right above his belly button, retracting it when she heard him suck in a breath of air suddenly. “Let’s find our seats then.” She patted his chest and headed for the concert hall, swaying her hips slightly as she did so.

“That’s deliberate,” he muttered under his breath and followed her to their seats.

…

Despite the oozing sexual tension between the Allen and West-Allen respectively, all of that faded away when they saw their kids on stage. The other kids performed very well of course, but there was nothing quite like seeing Don and Nora West-Allen dressed as fashionably as their mother and performing as naturally as their father. They blew the crowd away and had their parents gushing.

Iris clapped enthusiastically both times they performed, and after the last hit of the night, there was a standing ovation. Iris had to keep herself from running up to the stage after the encore and handing each of her children a brilliant red rose and a bag of cookies.

“You both did so amazing!” she fawned. Barry repeated the sentiment.

“Yeah?” Don asked, his eyes alight with wonder.

“We did?!” Nora squealed, jumping up a bit on her toes.

“You were the best,” Barry assured, smiling so wide it almost hurt.

They each hugged their children, and as soon as the crowd had started to dissipate, they let their precious five-year-olds jump down into their arms and then walk proudly out the door with them, a skip in their step, as they hopped into a limo and went out for ice-cream.

“Ooo, a limo,” Don gawked at the sight, both when they were outside and inside.

Iris looked over at her husband, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, wherever did you find it?”

The window partition between them and the driver lowered at the stop light, revealing one Cisco Ramon.

“Uncle Cisco!” the children cheered.

“At your service, monsieur and madam.” He tipped his hat.

Iris looked at him curiously.

“It’s a side gig I picked up just for kicks,” he explained easily.

Iris suspected that wasn’t the whole truth, but she let it slide. If she knew her husband and her friend, Barry had rented the limo as a surprise for their kids and had selected not to have a driver because Cisco wanted to be a part of the action.

But she wouldn’t pester Barry about that until later. He’d probably silence her with kisses – and there were children present.

“Well, all right then, Uncle Cisco. Take us away!”

“Will do, Madam.” He tipped his hat again, making Iris roll her eyes.

But Cisco rolled up the partition again and took them to their favorite ice cream spot in the city where they all enjoyed their favorite dish. At the end of the night, Cisco dropped off the family of four just when the young West-Allens’ sugar high was finally starting to drop. By the time they reached their bedrooms – of which Barry and Iris had carried them halfway to – they were both half-heartedly protesting to stay up longer and all but snoring once they were in their pjs and tucked away in bed.

“What a night,” Iris said, taking off her jewelry at her vanity.

“Our kids were terrific.”

“Mhmm,” she agreed.

“Especially Don. That boy can move.”

“Right into the couch apparently,” Iris snorted, but she knew her husband spoke the truth. She’d seen first hand how impressive her son’s moves had been up on the stage during the concert.

“It was an accident,” Barry said, coming up behind his wife and placing his hands on her arms. “I think his speed short-circuited for a second and sent him farther than he meant to go.”

Iris nodded. The super speed had started to show up in spurts in the last six months. It didn’t happen often enough for the children to notice, but Barry had picked up on it right away and the second time so had Iris. It was a point of concern, whether or not to tell their kids that they were metahumans. Iris wondered if they were too young to handle it and Barry wondered if they’d be targeted if it started happening more often and in public and if they couldn’t suppress it – or chose not to.

“Let’s not think about it tonight,” Barry said, sensing where her thoughts had gone. “They did great on stage. The crowd loved them. And they did that just by being them, no super speed required.”

Iris turned around in her husband’s arms and draped her arms over his shoulders.

“Something tells me they have you to thank for that.”

He shrugged. “I liked practicing with them.”

She smiled serenely.

“And I love you for it.”

She pulled him down for a sensual kiss, one she knew her husband couldn’t immediately draw back from.

“You’re not too tired, I see,” she said when they finally came up for air.

Wordlessly, Barry drew down the zipper on the back of her dress and let the gown to fall to the floor, pooling around her bare feet. Then he tipped her chin up so she could see the heat in his eyes.

“Not for this.”

Pleasure shot to the tips of her fingers and toes, and she shot up to capture his lips again, winding her legs around his waist when he lifted her up and placed her on top of her vanity, all manner of items falling to the floor.

With their children asleep just down the hall, Iris was impressively quiet. Barry was less so when they moved to the bed, but by then their children were in a deep sleep. Nothing save a roaring thunder could wake them from their slumber.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#25 days of westallen fanfiction #westallen #fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #for toooldtoship

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perlocutionary · 7 years ago

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Ruin Me - Mitch Rapp

Description: Another mission hasn’t gone exactly to plan due to Mitch’s temper. He always finds his ways to diminish your anger though - or so he thinks. Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader - AMERICAN ASSASSIN

Word count: 3393

A/N: This contains smut. Because it’s Mitch. I can’t do anything else considering Mitch. Also, mentions of blood, death, you know, the whole lot when you think of an assassin.

Also, a big big big thank you to my Goddess @itsbilescallmebiles for proofreading this for me and giving me her honest opinion as always. You are amazing.

Ding. As soon as the elevator doors slide open, I’m off without a second glance to my partner. My manicured hands slide along my face, which contorts into pure disgust when I feel the warm wetness against my fingertips. My heels loudly rap against the tile of the hotel hallway, hearing my partner’s dress shoes click in the same manner, although more leisurely, behind me. I am beyond aggravated with him. His short temper was undoubtedly the one thing that would one day cause my inevitable doom – and I would end up in the cheapest casket Orion could find. An anonymous funeral, all I ever dreamt about. “Y/N,” he sighs, stopping right behind me as I angrily dig through my purse in search for the hotel room key. I feel his hot breath tickle against my exposed neck, shivers erupting on my flesh from the small gesture. Without acknowledging him, I push the card into the slot and impatiently tap my heel, waiting for the small indicator light to flash its green colour. The door squeaks in its hinges when it flies open before slamming against the wall on impact. I stomp further into the room, disappearing into the bathroom for a cloth as I hear the door softly click shut. It seems as if that set a bomb off, igniting all resentment and anger I felt toward the young male. “You – you are incredulous!” I spit, wiping the pristine white wash cloth against my cheek, appearing back into the bedroom. Mitch is undoing his tie, movements stilling when he hears my voice. “Don’t be so uptight. We’re fine.” He shrugs. I wish I could wipe that smirk straight off his face. “Fine? We’re fine?” I growl, remaining stoic in the door opening leading into the bathroom. “We were ordered to observe, Mitch. Not start a murder spree at the banquet of the biggest drug cartel of Mexico!” I take a daring step closer, continuing to run the damp washcloth over my skin. I growl in particular when I wipe along my forehead and see the bright red stain it left. I thread closer, Mitch now working the buttons off his dress shirt, eyes glued to me. Pushing the wash cloth in his general direction, I wave it around so he’d see the pink hue that had overtaken the original colour. “That’s fucking blood, Mitch. On my fucking face.” Mitch discards his dress shirt carelessly, the pristine white also stained with droplets of blood – probably his own. “Don’t worry, it’ll come off after a shower.” He speaks nonchalantly, hands already fumbling with his belt buckle. Mitch didn’t care about anything – as long as he and I stayed alive during every mission. “And, oh god, the dress.” I gasp as my fingertips brush along the bright red silk snuggly hugging my tender frame. Dark droplets of blood scattered across my chest, abdomen and hips. “Do you know how hard it will be to get the blood out of this dress? It’s one of a kind, Mitch. I could never afford this.” Mitch chuckles, leaving his belt unbuckled as he threads closer, taking the wash cloth from my hands. He runs it against my sternum, following the low cut of the expensive red dress until below my breasts. I sigh at his gentleness, my eyes slowly drifting closed. “The dress is red. You won’t even see the blood.” My eyes immediately snap open, a frown edging onto my equally as red lips as I take a step back. “What?! Look at me.” I point out each and every speck clearly visible among the silk material. Mitch does nothing to hide his eye roll, lips pursing before a smirk crawls its way to the surface. “You look beautiful.” Mitch never gave compliments – whether it be my appearance or my skills in the field. But after missions like the one we just failed miserably at, always. I would be bloodied, bruised, and occasionally, covered in the finest materials from around the world – when higher up deemed it necessary. “Do you have a kink for women drenched in blood or what, Rapp?” “No. I just lust seeing you flustered.” He slowly drags his tongue along his bottom lip, retracting as I visibly swallow. It was no secret that I was very attracted to Mitch’s physique, but he wasn’t great at keeping secrets either. His protective manner, stolen glances and touches gave him away. “Stop trying to distract me, you sly fox.” I huff, but the blush is nonetheless very prominent on my cheeks. Mitch’s grin is full of self-fulfilment, his dress shoes kicked off to the side as he turns away and drops his slacks to the floor in a hollow thud. God, his ass looked divine. I couldn’t help appreciate Mitch’s muscular legs when he was sporting his favourite worn out jeans, but the way his ass looked in slacks or in his boxers could get me going. Whenever he paraded naked through our hotel room when preparing for a mission, it felt like I was set aflame. “I’m not distracting you. I’m changing the topic of conversation because I feel like the subject we’re coming to is unnecessary and quite frankly, pointless.” Another wave of anger flashes through me at his words. If I worried, or pointed out the flaws in all Mitch’s game plans, we would end up like this. He would always say the conversation is pointless and force me to drop it. “I’m sick of putting my ass on the line for you when you take zero responsibility, Mitch. I’m your partner and I’m meant to keep you alive, but damn man are you making this hard on me.” Instead of lingering, hoping to get a sliver of attention, I turn on my heel and unzip my dress. It gracefully tumbles to the floor, pooling around my ankles as I step out of it. My fingers fumble with the bobby pins keeping my hair up, loose waves falling over my back like a curtain. As I thread slowly to the bathroom, he clears his throat. “I thought you loved a challenge, Y/N. And,” I begrudgingly turn my head, glancing at my infuriating partner as I cover my bare chest from him with my arms. “Your ass isn’t on the line. It’s on display.” His eyes are glued to the curvature of my ass, teeth digging painfully into his lip. Our gazes meet as he grins bashfully, my head shaking as I suppress my smile. “ Since when do you wear thongs?” “I didn’t sign up to babysit a full grown man though, baby.” My pointer fingers hook into the frail material, slowly inching it down my legs. “And, since the amazing dress you ruined showed any hemline.” The red lingerie falls to the floor, only my heels still strapped around my ankles as I disappear into the bathroom. As I turn on the shower full blast, I hear Mirch’s voice loud and clear. “I’m not complaining. At all.” An involuntary chuckle slips my lips as I kick off my heels, dipping my wrist underneath the water beam to gauge the temperature. I raise my voice the slightest bit, hoping he could still hear me. “Of course you aren’t.” As I deemed the water sufficiently scorching enough to remove any remnants of blood, I step underneath the ample spray. A sigh escapes me as my eyelids flutter shut, my hands running over my wet hair to slick it back. “Hey, I can appreciate a good ass when I see one. I’ll be out in a minute, I need to piss.” He groans as I hear the clank of the toilet seat being lifted, one eye opening to glance sideways. He is slightly turned toward me, his boxer-covered ass in my direction as I hear him start. “You know, I’m glad you feel so comfortable around me, but I’d appreciate five minutes of breathing space every now and then, Mitch.” Laughter bubbles from his throat as he leans over the toilet to flush, tucking his junk back in before turning toward me. “You didn’t require any breathing space last time while you were choking on my cock.”I can see the cocky smirk he is sporting through the fogged up shower glass, his eyebrow wiggling suggestively before he lets his gaze wander over my naked form. “For the love of good, Mitch!” I roll my eyes aggravatedly, shaking my head and sending water droplets flying. I run my hands along my skin, rubbing away dried blood, staining the water pink. “As if you don’t enjoy it.” He steps closer, slowly opening the glass shower door. Steam escapes my small confine and I shudder as the cold seeps in. Mitch discards his boxers, leaving him as bare as I, before stepping into the shower with me. I glance down, grinning foolishly as I look at the taller man through my lashes. “Not as much as you do, apparently.” He steps underneath the water, his hands ghosting over my waist. He doesn’t touch, but the promise that he will sends a shudder along my spine. His fingertips brush along my biceps, guiding my hand to his broad chest. My fingertips toy with the patch of hair covering his chest, trailing over every single scar on his soft skin. “Seeing Elizalde’s hands run over your body, lingering on your ass, I wanted to slice his throat.” Mitch confesses, his nose brushing along my collarbone as his hands rest on my hips, slowly pulling me closer toward him. A chuckle slips me, fingers brushing the stray hairs away from Mitch’s face. “Are we becoming possessive, Mitch?” A low, almost animalistic growl slips him as I tug on the strands of his hair, his head tilting back. His teeth graze along my jaw, his words a practiced vow to himself that he kept repeating time after time. “You’re my partner, Y/N. I’m supposed to protect you.” His fingertips ghost along the sides of my breasts, nails scratching the tender flesh as he passes. I push him back, against the tile wall, as I lower myself onto my knees in front of him. “Keep telling yourself that, baby.”I wink at Mitch through my eyelashes, my hand curling around his erected shaft, drawing a hiss from his parted lips. “If it gets you on your knees… I will.” With a few flicks of my wrist, I start to pump him agonisingly slow, licking my bottom lip in anticipation as a droplet of precum appears. I slowly drag my tongue across his slit, erupting a deep, rumbling moan from Mitch’s throat. I hum satisfactory, licking my bottom lip again for good measure before leaning back on my knees again. My wrist flicks again, although too slow to be pleasing. “I should just leave you like this, every time. Throbbing, pulsing, desperately twitching for my touch.” Another flick of my wrist as I squeeze his shaft, dragging a ragged-out moan from his lips. He opens his eyes, glaring down at me – trying to sound threatening. “You wouldn’t dare.” I lean in again, the very tip of my tongue licking its way up to the tip of his cock along his vein. His hips shake, hand disappearing into my wet hair as he gets caught in the tangles. With another bold stripe licked along his slit, I whisper my words. He aligns himself with my lips, which remain tightly shut. “Wouldn’t I? Don’t tempt me, Mitch.” A desperate groan slips him as his head roughly collides against the tile. He pushes my head closer again, tip dragging along my closed lips. “Suck.” When I make no intention of moving whatsoever, a whimper slips Mitch’s lips, almost inaudible. “Please.” Without hesitation, I take control over the situation as the tip slips past my lips, hand slowly aiding my movements by pumping up and down. Mitch’s head connects roughly with the wall behind him, lips parted slightly, his pants filling the small space. “I still regret not doing this sooner.” I pop him from my mouth, keeping the pace of my hand stroking going, picking up, as I glance up. “If you hadn’t been a walking asshole we would’ve.” Scratchy laughter slips him as he pushes my hair out of my face, curling it around his fist. “As if,” he tugs my head back, wiping his thumb across my bottom lip, “as if that didn’t draw you in.” A slight pull guides me back toward his cock and when he’s fully seated in my mouth, I hum in acknowledgement. My tongue brushes along his prominent vein while my teeth gently grazes his shaft, my fingertips digging into his hips to keep the broad man from jerking his hips. I flick the tip of my tongue over his slit before sliding my lips past him again, bobbing my head in an ungodly rhythm that has Mitch a panting mess above me. His hands roam over my face and shoulders before residing in my hair, tugging the strands in the hopes of making me go faster, deeper. I can tell be is near from the way his hips involuntarily stutter and his breathing grows shallow, ushering me to pick up speed and stimulate the remnants of his cock with my hand. As soon as my other, unoccupied hand starts to fondle his balls, Mitch tumbles over the edge, groaning bashfully as I swallow around him. I pop him from my mouth, grinning up at my partner as he aids me back onto my feet. A sloppy kiss follows, teeth clashing and tongues battling leisurely as he pushes me back under the beam. The scorching heat calms my achy nerves and I slip my eyes closed with a groan, throwing my head back to let water run down my face. I flinch away when something unexpected touches my side and my eyes snap open. My glare is directed at Mitch, running a washcloth over my side. “There was some blood left.” He smiles down at me, running his wash cloth-covered hand along my breasts and chest, his intimate behavior out of character. “Thanks, am I good now?” I turn around for him, showing my body off to his piercing gaze. A hum leaves his lips as he taps my ass playfully, my hand smacking him across the chest – with no intention to hurt him. “Me?” “You have some, uh –“ I point toward his face before reaching up and swiping my thumb across his brow. My hardened nipples barely brush against Mitch’s chest, his half-flaccid cock twitching back to life at the action. “Seriously?” I laugh, running the fingernail of my pointer finger along his shaft as it bounces happily at contact. He smirks down at me, running his fingers through my hair before yanking roughly, exposing my neck to him. “What can I say, I’m insatiable.” “That, my friend, isn’t even a lie.” I wink before disappearing out of the shower, throwing a towel around my frame before paddling over to the bedroom. I hear the shower being turned off and Mitch’s heavy footsteps right behind me. How that man ever pulled off a stealth kill was still a mystery to me until this day. “At what time are we meeting Irene and the rest tomorrow?” Mitch questions, drying his hair with a towel. I can’t help but stare at his bare ass, firm but so squeezable, as he passes me. “Nine AM. They’re sending a car for us.” As I take a glance at him, he has shifted onto the bed, lying carelessly sprawled out on top of the sheets, still completely bare. “Enough time to figure something out, then.” He shrugs his shoulder so nonchalantly I am instantly reminded why I was angered with him in the first place. I walk over to our shared duffel bag, redressing myself in a pair of underwear and a shirt before dropping beside Mitch on the bed. “Seriously though, Mitch. We’re taking this too far. What are we going to say in the meeting tomorrow?” I lol my head to the side, glancing over at him as I try to get comfortable. He turns on his side, fingernails scratching along my thigh. “That it was my wrongdoing.” I roll my eyes exasperatedly, sighing deeply as I bite my tongue. “You shouldn’t take the blame. We’re a team after all.” Even though Mitch was outrageous sometimes, I know he wouldn’t jeopardise the mission if it meant that I would be in grave danger. Everything he did was calculated by himself, even if I wasn’t in on the loop. Mitch lips connect with my neck, grazing his teeth against the slender flesh as his hand disappears between my legs, rubbing his slender fingers over my folds through my underwear. I hum as my skin feels like it’s set ablaze by Mitch’s touch. “Stop trying to distract me with sex.” Both of us laugh, the vibrations sending another chill down my spine. Mitch’s tone is playful as he nips at my neck. “Who said you were getting laid tonight?” My fingertips ghost over his jaw, tickling along his stubble as he continues to kiss his way along my neck and jaw. “This,” I start off, followed by rolling my hips into his hand, thumb roughly pressing against my clit and a growl slips my lips.“this,” and lastly, I wind my fingers around his erect cock, slowly tugging it “and this.”. I keep my grasp on his as I use it to lead his between my legs, already positioning him in front of my entrance. “Ah, no, Y/N, turn over baby.” He pushes against my hips, flinging me onto my back and I raise on my knees immediately, pressing my ass against his pelvis. “Always so eager.” “Just get to it before I –“ I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence as a whimper slips my lips, hands fisting the sheets as he roughly pushes in and bottoms out. A low growl slips him and he wastes no time as he starts thrusting wildly, the only sound resonating through the hotel room the slapping of our skin meeting. Mitch’s hand skims over my spine as I moan loudly, stopping at my hair. He wraps it around his fist, pulling, making me raise my head from its position, jammed into the pillow. “Every mission should end in celebratory sex.” Mitch grunts, picking up already ungodly speed. I try to laugh at his words but instead another whimper slips. “We should only have sex when you stick to the protocol.” His movements falter as my words echo through the room and I can just imagine his incredulous look thrown toward me. I glance over my shoulder to just see that. “Maybe then I would stick to protocol. Not a bad idea.” Mitch laughs as he winks, grasping my hips firmer, his indentations sure to leave marks the day after. He starts thrusting wildly again, even rougher than before and I moan so loud my voice scratches through the room, my face planted in the mattress. I’m close already, pushing my hips backward in time with his thrusts to gain more friction. Mitch seems to understand and he shifts his hips, pressing against my G spot over and over again as I tumble into the abyss of my orgasm. Mitch continues his relentless pace until he himself spurs over the edge, stilling against my hips as a loud, almost pornographic moans escapes him. He pulls out, dropping down beside me, panting, as I roll over onto my back. My freshly washed body is again covered in a sheen layer of sweat, and Mitch is no different. Our heavy breathing fills the room, both of us coming down from our blissful highs stress free. It takes us a few moments before Mitch speaks. “So, did I distract you properly?” Loud laughter slips me as I turn over onto my stomach, grinning at Mitch as I prop myself on my elbows, tucking the duvet over us first. “You ruined me more than our mission did,” I chuckle, “Perhaps if you didn’t just ask that. You’re unbelievable.” Mitch sighs as he gets comfortable, slipping underneath the sheets. “Hey, at least you make me feel alive again.” Mitch mumbles, slipping into unconsciousness as my body freezes at his half-asleep confession.

Taglist:

Forever:@ssweet-empowerment @fuckwhateverfuck @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname @behind-my-hazeleyes27 @itsbilescallmebiles @7e6205

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hunterenough · 6 years ago

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Life Changes

Chapter 3: Responsible Adults

Summary: Dean gets a look at the way a responsible adult actually lives, and he really likes it. (Or maybe he just likes the responsible adult attached to the house he's looking at...)

Dean’s morning seemed to drag by, probably because he was looking forward to meeting with Castiel and checking out his potential new living situation. He’d let Benny, his lead technician, know that he might be a bit late coming back. He’d set the map on his phone for Castiel’s address, and Google had informed him that it was a four minute drive. Wouldn’t that be a nice change from his current half hour commute.

He pulled into the driveway at 12:04 exactly. The house was white with a dark grey foundation and trim. The walkway was shoveled, and everything looked well cared for. Dean climbed out of his car with his folder of check stubs and headed for the door. He knocked quietly before noticing the bell. Shit, do I ring the bell? Should I wait? What if he didn’t hear me knock. His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.

Holy fucking hell. This guy, the guy he might be living with, was everything Dean had wet dreams about. His faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt stretched softly over his tone chest, highlighted his biceps. His hands, huge hands , cradled a steaming white mug with a bright yellow sun grinning from it. His dark jeans barely clung to his narrow hips, but they sure fit his muscled thighs well enough to make Dean drool. The face though, his face...perfect chiseled jaw, straight nose, fucking chapped looking red lips, all haloed by the most amazing sex hair he’d ever seen. But it was the eyes that held his attention. Intensely blue, hundreds of shades of blue , just staring at him.

Dean realized the guy was probably staring at him because he was fucking staring. Like a dumbass. He cleared his throat, and offered his free hand.

“Dean Winchester.” Smooth. At least his voice didn’t crack.

The man quirked his lip and shook the offered hand.

“Hello Dean. Castiel Novak. Nice to meet you. Come in.” He stepped back from the door to let Dean enter. He closed the door behind himself, and Cas gestured behind it. “You can take off your coat if you’d like.”

The entry was as orderly as the yard had seemed to be. A series of hooks hung behind the door, two covered by coats, with a shelf of totes above. Under it, stood a shoe rack, half filled with shoes, on a shallow drip tray which currently homed a pair of wet snow boots. Dean toed out of his shoes, glad that he’d opted for the steel toed shoes instead of his normal work boots this morning, and lined them up on the tray. He offered the folder he’d been holding out to the other man before taking his coat off and hanging it with the others. The folder found a home on the small side table, next to set of keys and a bowl of change. Another door, presumably to the garage, was just past the table.

“So, a tour? The main part of the house is pretty open.” Castiel gestured widely with his free hand.

“Sounds great. I love what I’m seeing so far.” It looked like all of the walls were the same soft blue-grey color with creamy white trim. It was practical, he supposed, for the big open space. It looked...peaceful.

Castiel stepped into the living room, and Dean noticed his bare feet sink into the plush carpet. There was a huge sectional, facing a gas fireplace with a widescreen TV mounted above it and floor to ceiling bookshelves on either side, both nearly full of books, movies, and photos, though again, everything looked well organized. An ottoman occupied the space in front of the couch, and two comfortable looking chairs formed the fourth corner. Overall, it looked like a great place to relax after work. Dean nodded.

“I don’t spend much time here, really, except on the weekends. By the time I get home from work, I’m ready for a shower and bed.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. You said you have a funky schedule?”

“I work on the oncology ward at the hospital. The afternoon shift is 2- midnight.”

“Long days doing that kind of work.” Dean’s days were generally at least the same ten hours, but he didn’t have to deal with sick people. He’d been in hospitals enough to know that nurses worked hard, and often the work sucked.

Castiel shrugged. “Could be worse. A lot of hospitals run twelve hour shifts now, and I’ve got seniority, so I get the Monday-Thursday schedule. Always a three day weekend. It helps that I love my job.” He walked around the couch as he was talking, and Dean followed. “This is the dining room. I use it even less than the living room actually.” He bypassed the long dark wood table and chairs to move into the kitchen. “When I do actually sit down to eat, I usually eat at the island.”

The kitchen was gorgeous. Dean imagined it could be featured in one of those home-decorator magazines he kept in the lobby for his customers. There were miles of granite counter top over dark wood cabinets. A bank of upper cabinets was balanced on one end by the wide stainless steel refrigerator, and on the other by the professional looking stove and hood. A half-full coffee pot was set next to the refrigerator, but very little else cluttered the space.

“I cook a little, but cooking for one sucks. I want to get better at it though, it’s one of my resolutions.” Dean moved further into the kitchen.

“My cooking is generally limited to scrambled eggs, toast, cold sandwiches, and spaghetti with jarred sauce, so you’re probably ahead of me already.” He pulled open a narrow drawer on the island. “I’ve got menus for every delivery and takeout place in town though.” He grinned as he waved down at the collection. “I promise not to touch anything on your side of the refrigerator though. You don’t have to worry about me stealing your leftovers.”

“Noted. Definitely an improvement over my current roommate. I’m lucky if he leaves anything for me to eat, even though I do all of the grocery shopping.”

“Ahh, I had an ex like that. Always hungry, but never bothered to actually buy food.” He shook his head.

Dean just grunted in agreement, and they moved into the hallway.

“Unfortunately, there’s only one full bathroom.” He opened the first door on the left. “Fortunately, it is very well equipped.”

“No shit!” Dean had stepped into the huge room. “Sorry, it’s just, I’ve never seen a bathroom like this outside of a fancy hotel.” The shower was walled in pristine white subway tiles, the open side a wall of glass. Towel hooks were mounted to the front. He could count at least four shower heads, plus the rain fall head above. One of the two shelves in the shower was half full of bottles, but the other was empty.

“It’s probably my favorite room. Sometimes, after a particularly bad day, I like to take a soak before bed.” He gestured at the deep soaker tub.

“Oh my God, that sounds awesome.” After a day hunched over his desk doing paperwork, his entire back felt like one giant cramp.

Cas nodded, then gestured at the double sink. “This sink would be yours.” He indicated the one by the toilet. “It has a medicine cabinet behind the mirror.” He popped it open showing several empty shelves before closing it again. “I keep my towels and washcloths in the bottom drawer, and cleaning supplies under my sink, but you’re welcome to the rest of the space.

Dean smiled at the idea that he’d already been accepted. “Given our schedules, I doubt we’ll have much trouble balancing bathroom times. Sounds like I’m out the door before you’re up and you’re gone before I get home.”

“Yes. Should make it easy to keep from fighting over the shower.” He grinned over his shoulder as he stepped back into the hall.

“This is a guest bathroom,” he opened the first door on the opposite side of the hall revealing a toilet and small vanity, “So we really only have to share with overnight guests.” He opened the next door. “And this is the guest room. It’s a little small, but occasionally one of my siblings comes in for the weekend to visit. You’re welcome to use it for guests as well, if you’d like. Either way, it’s probably a good idea to put in on the house calendar so we don’t end up double booking.”

The guest bedroom, though Castiel had called it ‘small’ offered a queen bed, a wide dresser, and a double closet. It was pretty much what he’d imagined renting. Dean shrugged. “My family lives pretty close, so I don’t really have anybody who would need to spend the night. Unless, I become clinically insane and offer to have my nephews overnight, but I really don’t see that happening.”

“They’d be welcome on the weekend. How old are they?” He’d pulled the door closed again and moved further down the hall.

“Three and five. We’re celebrating full potty training and no accidents now. Very exciting.”

“Oh, that is!” His grin was something else, and Dean couldn’t help but smile back as he opened the door to the next room. “This is the den.” He stepped inside. It was clearly a converted bedroom, similar in size to the guest room, with the same closet. A desk sat on each wall, one with papers stacked on top, each with a plush rolling chair tucked under it. In the corner by the closet, there were two wide arm chairs and a coffee table. Castiel had moved to the closet and swung it open. “I actually have several nieces and nephews myself, so there’s a stash of stuff in here just in case.” Dean noted several labeled totes, ‘coloring,’ ‘blocks,’ and ‘vehicles’ caught his eye before the door was closed and Castiel was moving back to the desk. He tapped at a whiteboard mounted above it. “This is the house calendar. Basically, I just use it to organize bills, etc. But if we’re having guests, that’s probably a good thing to note as well. And I keep a running grocery list. I thought maybe we could take turns picking up the standard household things, toilet paper, coffee, etcetera, but if you prefer, we can do it a different way.”

“No, that sounds fine. I usually shop on Saturday, unless something comes up in the meantime, and I don’t mind picking up whatever.”

They wandered back into the hall and to the final two doors, both open. “These are the twin masters.” He walked into the room on the right, indicating for Dean to follow. “This one is mine. Sorry, I haven’t gotten to laundry.”

The room was huge, with an unmade made king sized bed, a pair of dressers, and again, what looked like a very large closet. The mentioned hamper was tucked into the corner by the dressers, and that and the mussed bedding were about the only thing he’d seen in the house that was disorderly. Still, it was the little sitting area that caught Dean’s attention. Again he felt like he’d stepped into a high end hotel. A wide chair with a matching ottoman was tucked into the corner, flanked by bookcases, and a small rolling table was positioned over one arm holding a laptop.

“Judgement free zone.” Dean lifted his hands. “Besides, I was kind of starting to wonder if you kept a maid or something. The whole place is spotless.”

“It’s not too hard, since I rarely have time to mess it, but I do look forward to splitting the chores.”

“Is that the only reason you’re looking for a roommate? I mean I dated a nurse once, and he made as much as me at least.” Dean blushed a little, well, that hadn’t really been how he’d meant to bring up the fact that he was bi, but now that it was out, he supposed it would be good to know how Castiel would react.

“Honestly, that’s definitely part of it. I bought this house a couple of years back, with the intention of starting a family. My partner at the time, didn’t have the same ideas, which I found out when I found him in the hot tub with his assistants. Plural. I love the house, I really do, but it it’s just so big for just me. It gets...lonely.”

Dean huffed out a breath. OK, so he was either gay or bi himself, one thing less to worry about, but that sounded like a really rough breakup. “Man, I’m sorry. That really sucks. My last real breakup was pretty amicable, but I’d gotten pretty close to her kid, so that sucked. Still, at least you got to keep the house, and it really is awesome. I wound up in a shitty third floor walkup.”

“So did Fergus.” Castiel chuckled and led Dean back to the door. “This place was always mine. At any rate, this one would be yours. It’s the same as mine, just opposite. I didn’t ask, do you have furniture?”

The room looked even bigger empty. “I have some, but seeing your room, I think I might get some new stuff. I can call it doing something for myself and tag it as part of my resolutions.” He grinned at the other man. His bedroom set was nice enough, and he loved his memory foam mattress, but the idea of upgrading to a king sized bed, of actually having all of his bedroom furniture match, it was definitely appealing.

Castiel grinned. “I donated everything that was here when Fergus moved out. It was cathartic. New furniture for my fresh start. I wouldn’t mind going with you, it can be a little tedious on your own.”

“I have a feeling I don’t want to get on your bad side. I might come home to find all my crap on the front lawn.”

Castiel laughed out loud. “Don’t fuck your barely legal assistants in the hot tub, and we should be fine.” He turned and started back down the hall.

“I’d have bigger problems than you to deal with if I did that. Benny, my lead technician, has been married for a long time, and his old lady can be downright scary in that Stepford wife kind of way. Charlie, my left-hand girl, is a gold-star lesbian, and I’m pretty sure she’d kill to protect her record.” He was teasing, but both were facts he didn’t want to ever test.

“One less thing to worry about then. Emptying the hot tub is a bitch.” He opened a door in the entryway that Dean hadn’t noticed before, and flipped on a light before heading down a flight of stairs.

The basement, at least the half that he could see from the bottom of the stairs, was finished, and as well maintained as the upstairs, if a lot more industrial looking. At the bottom of the stairs, the laundry area occupied a length of the wall, with a matching high-efficiency washer and dryer set, a deep wash sink between them, a long stainless steel counter for folding, a bar for hanging clothes, and wall mounted drying rack and ironing board.

“I usually do my laundry on Sunday afternoon, but I don’t mind negotiating that. I could probably do it Friday while you’re at work.”

Dean shook his head. “No worries. I like to do mine in the morning, usually Saturday, but sometimes I slack until Sunday. I can have it out of the way by noon, no problem.”

Castiel nodded and gestured to the rest of the room. “The basement is sound proofed, so you don’t have to worry about making noise down here while I’m sleeping.” The rest of the room was clearly used as a home gym. The floor was covered in thick rubber mats, and there was a treadmill, an elliptical, a weight bench with a rack of weights, and an exercise ball. The other half of the room was clear except for a small tote, though there was a TV mounted on the wall surrounded by several full length mirrors. “You’re welcome to use any of the equipment of course. I practice yoga, so there’s blocks and straps and stuff in the tote if you’re interested. Otherwise, there rest of the basement is mostly unfinished. It’s sealed, but that’s about it. You can use it for storage if you want. I have Christmas stuff stuck in there.” Cas shrugged. “I guess that’s about it. Hot tub is on the back deck, the yard is fenced in and completely private. Oh, the garage. You run an automotive shop, I’m sure you’re interested.”

“You say that like you aren’t.”

“Well, I enjoy not having to scrape the ice off of my windows.” It was said with a small smile. He led them back upstairs and to the other door in the entry.

“This is the door I usually use.” He pulled it open and stepped down into the garage. There was a blue SUV parked in the spot closest to the door, with the area in front of the other door empty. The garage was deeper than he’d expected, probably big enough to park two cars lengthwise, though the area in front of the SUV was occupied by a large work bench. “I don’t really use anything in here except the freezer.” He indicated an upright freezer near the door. “You can use the workbench if you want. Unfortunately, the snowblower died in the middle of that last big storm, so we’re stuck shoveling.”

“Or, you tell your mechanic housemate that the snow blower’s broken, and he fixes it.” He was grinning like a clown, he was sure, but the place was perfect, close to work, amazing space, great housemate and a heated garage . Seriously, could it get any better?

“So you like it?”

“Dude, it is perfect. I’m not convinced you’re not a serial killer it’s so nice and the rent is so affordable, but at this point, I think I might be willing to help you bury a body or two for a chance to live here.”

“Awesome. You’re the first person that’s answered the ad that I think I’d actually like to share a house with.” He glanced at his watch “I really need to get ready for work, but I can give you a copy of the lease to read over, and you can text me with questions. I can’t always answer right away, but I usually get a few minutes here or there. When were you looking to move in?”

“Honestly, unless you ask for my firstborn as deposit, I’ll put notice in tomorrow, so within the next two weeks if that’s OK?”

Cas was nodding. “Anytime. We can work out the details this weekend.” They’d moved back to the front door.

“Thanks so much for showing me this place, Castiel. This is exactly what I was hoping for.”

Cas glanced at the contents of the folder Dean had given him earlier, and added a sheaf of papers, and waited until he’d put his shoes and coat back on before handing it to him. “My friends call me Cas, and since I’m looking forward to sharing a house with you, I’m hoping you’ll fall into that category.” He offered Dean a hand to shake.

“Can’t wait Cas. I’ll shoot you a text if anything comes up with the lease, otherwise, I’ll plan on giving you a call Friday after work. Sound good?” He didn’t really want to leave, now that he was here, but he had to get back to work as well. He took the offered hand, and shook if firmly.

“Sounds good. Have a great afternoon Dean.” He moved to hold the door open.

“You too Cas.” He waved as he headed to his car.

He was actually looking forward to canceling the other appointments he’d made. No way could he get a better deal than this.

More Notes:

Three chapters in, and they finally meet. Can you actually imagine a meeting between these two that doesn't involve some kind of awe on Dean's part?

P.S. The description of Cas was very inspired by this magnificent piece of art (https://www.redbubble.com/people/jackiedeeart/works/35675771-sunshine?c=408643-supernatural). That's a redbubble link because I firmly believe everyone needs this in their house.

P.P.S Sorry about the gratuitous amounts of house description. I'm hoping it will help in the coming chapters to know your way around.

#my writing

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ohnoboho · 7 years ago

Note

For your prompt, um virgil grows bat wings (little cutie bat wings) and patton than calls Virgil "his dragon" and Virgil calls patton his treasure, Roman the damsel in distress, and Logan the great Wizard? Idk something dorky that came to mind.

Loved this little prompt! Thanks, @witch19! Probably not what you had in mind, but this is where it took me and I liked it quite a lot. Hope you enjoy it!

“Patton! I’m home!” Virgil called into the large foyer of the castle, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls. “I brought you something special.”

“Is it me?” The stranger called from behind him, shimmying through the crack of the towering main doors.

“No.” Virgil rolled his eyes as he let his bag roll from his shoulder and thump heavily to the ground. “What are you even still doing following me around?” He busied himself pulling a variety of trinkets from his satchel and piling them into a crate by the door. Later the house gremlins would collect them and place them nicely in his treasure room, but for now he was tossing the gold and silver aside haphazardly searching for a certain velvet bag.

“Something special? Oh, my wonderful dragon, you shouldn’t have!” Patton bustled into the room, wiping away at the dust that speckled his face with his work apron. “Woah!” He scrambled for the bag as Virgil gently hucked it towards him, nearly dropping it a few times. The little gnome gasped with excitement as he inverted the velvet sack and a trio of gems plunked into his grimy palm. “Wow, Virgil, these are amazing! Such treasures for your treasu-” Patton had been holding the gems up to catch the light, when he noticed the stranger wandering in slow circles around the room. “Oh, hello, who is this?”

“Crown Prince Roman the Fourth, second in line to the Salman Throne and defender of the Roses of Th’om, at your service!” The prince spun on a toe and bowed gracefully to Patton with a charming smile. The gnome suddenly let a high-pitched squeal, bouncing up and down in excitement, before clasping Roman’s hand in his and pumping it up and down vigorously.

“Wow! A real prince? Well, I’m Patton Dimble Rottendottey Kittabo Oneshoe Stumblebubble and that adorable little half-fiend over there is Virgil! We’re awful glad to have you here at our castle! It isn’t often that we have visitors! In fact, now that I think of it, I don’t think we’ve ever had visitors, have we, Virge?”

“Don’t be so nice to him, Patton, he isn’t staying.” Virgil grumbled, plucking an large, fresh apple from a nearby fruit bowl and taking a bite. Leaning up against the wall, he glared suspiciously at the prince.

“Oh, but, but wouldn’t it be nifty to have someone for dinner? Just this once?” The gnome pocketed the bag of gems Virgil had brought him and smiled brightly at the newcomer, who nodded enthusiastically in response. The both of them turned to Virgil with their most pleading looks and the half-fiend could do nothing but sigh angrily.

“Fine, he can stay for dinner, but then he’s leaving. I have to go rest my wings.” Virgil started up the staircase behind him before stopping abruptly and turning. “Don’t break anything. Either of you.” He narrowed his eyes at both of them, took a slow bite from his apple, and turned back again, continuing up the stairs and out of sight.

“So, Crown Prince Roman the Fourth, what brought you to our humble abode?” Patton asked cheerfully, beckoning for the prince to follow him back to his workshop.

“Oh, you can just call me Roman, my little friend! To be quite honest with you, I followed your grumpy friend, Virgil, back to your home.” The prince tagged along behind the little gnome, trying very hard not to walk too fast. “I was hoping he would kidnap me or, at least, lead me back to a large cave of full of dragons or wyverns or something dangerous.” Suddenly, Roman found himself crashing to the ground having ran right into Patton, who had stopped abruptly. The little gnome was doubled over in laughter.

“Virgil?!? Kidnap you?! Oh, why that’s just about the silliest thing! He wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Patton wiped at the corners of his eyes as he helped Roman back up. Still giggling, he dusted off the other’s pristine white trousers and patted his arm gently. “Now, Roman, why would you want to get kidnapped?”

The prince sat heavily on a nearby bench. “Well, little Patton, everyone else is getting kidnapped! The Princess of Vortier was kidnapped twice in the last month and it was the talk of the Four Kingdoms! Her betrothed was sent by the White King himself on a Perilous Quest to return her, and oh, how the messengers talked and talked about it each night.” Roman’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, leaning forwards into his hands and giving a sigh full of longing. “The second time the knight returned with her, the king ordered no less than seven ballads be composed to tell of his heroic deeds, you know! How thrilling! Oh, but nobody wants to kidnap the Crown Prince from the smallest kingdom and who would they send to find me?”

Patton stood on the bench next to Roman so he could reach the prince’s back. He was rubbing it softly as he spoke, humming softly as he listened to Roman’s sad story. “You poor dear! You don’t have a betrothed, Roman?” The gnome tutted, gingerly adjusting the glittering crown on his head and absently polishing it.

“I’m betrothed to the Princess of LeBeau, but I’ve never met her, and from what I hear, she’s not much of an adventurer. But I suppose if I was really, truely kidnapped, they might send the Great Wizard! He would perform such a daring rescue! Wouldn’t that be lovely!” Roman clasped Patton’s small hands in his own as he spoke, beaming brightly.

“Sounds like this wizard is someone you like quite a lot, huh, bud?” The gnome chuckled as the prince flushed a bright scarlet from ear to ear. He dropped Patton’s hands and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his head. “You can tell me, kiddo!”

“His name is Logan and I just think he’s really talented and intelligent and -” Roman would have continued but he was cut short as Virgil stomped loudly into the room shouting for Patton.

“Patton! I told you we shouldn’t have kept him! There is some mage hurling fireballs at our front door shouting sometime about releasing the Crown Prince or he’ll bring down his wrath upon us? I knew this thing would be trouble! Are you even listening?”

Roman and Patton were indeed not listening as they were squealing incoherently at each other and hopping around frantically. When they had finally calmed down enough to speak, Patton quickly explained Roman’s predicament and the bright idea he had.

“Wait, let me get this straight, you want us to pretend like we kidnapped this idiot and then let that idiot ‘vanquish’ us, so he can ‘rescue’ this idiot? Why, Patton?” Virgil gesticulated wildly with both his arms and his wings as he spoke.

“For love, Virgil!” Patton cried out cheerfully, hugging the half-fiends legs tightly.

And that was how Virgil found himself hovering in their foyer behind a loosely tied up Roman and next to Patton in a handmade troll costume, staring down a very angry mage.

“Oh, Logan, you came for me! Please save me!” Roman shouted loudly, struggling to keep himself from smiling uncontrollably.

“My spells will make quick work of these creatures.” Logan reassured the prince as he strode briskly into the room, brandishing his wand high. “So, beasts, release him!”

“Never!” Patton shouted from inside his bulky costume, deepening his voice as much as he could, which wasn’t much. “We like Prince. He nice and sweet and very very handsome! We keep him forever!” The gnome and the prince exchanged silly looks and had to stifle their giggles, as Virgil rolled his eyes.

“We’re going to eat him.” The half-fiend growled, almost a little too sincerely for Roman’s comfort.

“You leave me no choice then!” The mage barked angrily and swiped his wand sharply through the air. Lightning crackled from the end of the wood and shot across the room. It exploded into flames as it rammed into the arm of Patton’s costume.

“Oh, fire! Fire!” Patton chirped worriedly, sprinting around the foyer. Black clouds billowed from the patches of fabric as he ran from the room towards the kitchen.

“Patton!” Virgil shouted, flying quickly after the smoking mass.

In the chaos, Logan rushed forwards and yanked the ropes from around Roman’s body. The prince hopped up and engulfed him in a fierce hug. The mage cleared his throat awkwardly and patted Roman’s shoulder tenderly. When they pulled away from each other, both had a healthy blush on their cheeks.

“I’m glad you came for me.”

“Well, I knew you were foolish enough to get yourself captured and someone had to help you, my prince.”

“Hey, I might have rescued myself!”

“Unlikely...”

Logan and Roman continued to banter playfully as they walked back towards the front doors. As they passed through, Roman took a moment to turn back and wave back to his two new friends, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ before disappearing.

Patton, now out of his ruined costume, waved cheerfully back. He shouted for Roman to remember to write them, before he turned back to Virgil and sighed happily.

“We did a good thing today!”

“Your hat is still smoldering…”

“Oh dear!”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #fanders #fantasy au

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rookie-dm-disasters · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 6: Wedding Bells

Nariel’s eyes slowly opened to an all too familiar scene. She laid in her old bed in her old room, the white and green walls around her. Her bookshelf in the corner, the cabinet she kept weapons in, and her writing desk were all as she had left them. She had been gone for a few weeks, and she found it oddly reassuring that her parents didn’t feel a need to change everything in her room. She was still wearing the clothes she was wearing when she went to sleep at the Dusty Dunes. She sat up from her bed and saw her mother, Queen Lorien Golden-leaf, was sitting at the foot of the bed, her back facing Nariel. As Nariel shifted, she saw her mother’s ears twitch in response to the sound she was making. Queen Lorien quickly stood up and turned to face the princess sitting up in bed. Her eyes were bright as always, proud as any wood elf could be. She wore a bright smile that could liven any room. Nariel was always put off by the smile. When she was a child, she would love her mother’s smiling face, but as she got older, she grew to realize that it was a mask she wore. She could never tell if her mother was smiling out of true joy or attempting to hide some malicious intent. But the smile she was seeing now was a poor mask. A mask that had malicious intent written all over it. “Oh, my little leafling, it is so wonderful to have you home.” Said the queen. Her voice was sweet and airy. She sounded sincere, as if she had truly missed her daughter, but Nariel was still cautious. “Mother, what am I doing back here?” Nariel said. “No need to worry about that now.” The queen said, waving away the question like it was a fly in the air. “You need to hurry up and get dressed for your big day.” Nariel shook her head and rubbed her face with a groan. “Can you just give me a straight answer for once? You and father gave me a choice. I could either stay and be princess or go out and be an adventurer.” “Yes, yes, and now that you got to do that, I do hope you have that out of your system now. You can finally get back to your royal duties.” “Father said that if I left, he didn’t have a daughter.” Nariel’s father was a great leader, but fiercely strict. She had figured that once she left the kingdom, she would never be allowed back in, let alone kidnapped back in. She left with full intentions of leaving this life behind her. But now, suddenly, her family wants her back. It didn’t add up. The queen’s face, for the first time Nariel could recall, became stern. Firm as a rock and deadly serious. “Circumstances have changed, my leafling. Your father is dying.” The words hit Nariel like a boulder. He was fine a few weeks ago. How could he possibly be dying? “What happened to him? Was he injured?” “No. I’m afraid it is nothing so trivial as a flesh wound.” She sat back down on the bed with a sigh. “He has fallen ill. His strength leaves him day after day. We don’t know how long he will last. It could be weeks. It could be months.” “Why would an illness be a problem? Can’t our druids heal him?” “You think we haven’t tried that? The druids have never seen a sickness like this. No matter what they try, they cannot seem to remedy the problem. They have tried spells, enchantments, potions. Nothing is working.” Nariel sat in silence for a moment. She hadn’t known anything that the high druids of her kingdom could not fix. No matter what injury or sickness she ever had, they were able to fix within moments. What could possibly have happened that even these great healers could do nothing? After a moment, Nariel spoke again. “So, what does this have to do with me?” Lorien shook her head. “Don’t you see? It’s no longer a question of if you want to be princess or not. It is that you need to be queen. You, as our only child are next in line for the throne.” Nariel felt her world crashing in around her. She had thought, briefly, that she was finally free to do as she wanted, but now she was obligated to stay and fulfill her duties. “And if I refuse?” The queen’s eyes shot wide open. “You cannot refuse. We must always have a king and queen in this kingdom. It has been tradition for eons. You cannot break this tradition.” “What’s the worst that could happen?” “No one fully knows. I’m afraid that knowledge has been lost to time. But it is said that if ever there is not a king and queen ruling over the Golden Kingdom, great danger and misfortune shall befall us all.” Nariel could hardly believe that. Most traditions existed for an arbitrary reason that never amounted to much. She didn’t see how this could be any different. She didn’t see why an ancient doctrine should dictate her life. “I don’t believe that, mother. I’m leaving.” “No, you are not. We have already arranged a wedding for you today. You shall wed the man who shall be by your side as you rule, and you will ascend to the throne, and you will fulfill your duties to your kingdom.” Her voice rose as she spoke. By the end she was yelling. With a deep breath the queen composed herself and began to wear her smile again. “Now, get dressed so we can get you ready for your wedding.” It was hard for Nariel to confront her mother like this. She had never even seen her act like this. She was usually so calm and composed. It would probably be best not to anger her now and play along. She did not plan on going through with the wedding or ascend the throne. She would bide her time and wait for her chance to escape. She used to sneak out of the castle all the time. Surely, she could do it again. For now, she got out of bed and stood up. Her mother looked at her, wearing a smile but anger filled her eyes. “Now,” Said the queen. “Go see your father, I’m sure he will want to speak with you.” Nariel rushed out of her room and made her way through the pristine walls of the palace, making her way to the throne room. The king may be sick, but that wouldn’t stop his stubbornness. Regardless of how he felt, he would sit at the throne and rule his kingdom no matter what befell him. Nariel swung open the doors to the throne room. Guards lined the walls and a druid stood on either end of the thrones. Sitting in the middle of three thrones, was King Ionan Golden-Leaf. It was nothing like how Nariel remembered him. His eyes were sunken, his skin was ash white, and he was riddled with dark spots across his face. Upon her entrance, Ionan lifted his head slightly, mouth curved into a subtle grin as he rested his chin on his fist. “Daughter” he said slowly, drawing out each syllable. “Good to see that you have returned home.” Nariel stepped forward slowly. “Father, I-“ “I’m sure you wish to meet your groom, yes? He should be here momentarily. Very charming young man. His father owns many taverns within the city, and he has an amazing mind for finances. He will do quite well in assisting you in your queenly duties.” Nariel shook her head. “I don’t want to marr-“ “Speaking of, why aren’t you dressed yet? It is a big day. You must begin making preparations.” “Father, would you listen to m-“ Ionan slammed his hands on the armrests of the throne. “You will listen to me, daughter.” He rose and began pacing towards her as he spoke, as if stalking prey. “You don’t seem to understand. You have a responsibility to this kingdom. Without the monarch, there is no Golden Kingdom.” The distance between them was closed, now standing face to face. “And why is that the case?” Nariel said, attempting to keep her voice in control. “It is tradition, as I’m sure your mother has mentioned. There has always been a king and queen in place to serve the people. I will not allow that tradition to die with me.” “I am not giving up my life for some archaic tradition.” Ionan chuckled and walked back to his throne. “You make the mistake of thinking your life is your own. It is not. Your life is in service to the kingdom. To your people. Your life is not yours, as my life is not mine. Like it or not, we have a responsibility, and it is time you stop acting like a spoiled brat and own that responsibility.” Nariel’s face began turning red. She was at a loss for words and unable to think of a retort. At that moment, there was a knock on the door. “Enter!” the king said. The throne room doors swung open once again to reveal a young elf wearing all white leather armor, engraved with vines. He wore a rapier at the back of his waist and over his heart, he wore a glass rose. “Greetings King Ionan.” Said the stranger with a flourish of his arms. “Ah, is this my beloved bride to be?” He approached Nariel and fell to one knee, taking her hand in his. “I see she is already quite the blushing bride, no?” Nariel’s already red face, somehow, became more red. “My dear,” The man continued, “I do not think there is a single thing that I do not like about you.” He winked as he finished. Nariel shook his hand away and quickly ran to her own throne, never thinking that it would be a place she would go to for safety. “Father” She whispered. “Who is he?” “This,” Said Ionan, “Is Willow Sorber.” At the introduction, Willow bowed with a flourish. “At your service.” Nariel found him detestable. Even from the throne, she could smell the various perfumes wafting from him. He gave off an air of arrogance that made her sick to her stomach. And to top it all off, he was far too smothering. Before she had the opportunity to voice her concerns, the doors to the throne room opened once more to reveal Queen Lorien entering the hall. The queen’s arms were stretched out as she walked in, a smile on her face. “Ah, Nariel, I see you have met your future king. Quite the looker, isn’t he?” She nodded to Willow, who gave a suave wink in return. After the brief exchange, Nariel left her seat to speak with her mother, while Willow made his way to the throne to talk to the king, out of earshot of the queen and princess. The queen continued, “He will be a fantastic right hand for you. His knowledge of the finances of the kingdom will serve you well.” Nariel stared at her mother with wide eyes. “Mother, could it not be.” She paused for a quick glance at willow. “Anyone else?” She laughed and said, “My dear, he is a fine young man. Charismatic, smart, he even plays music. He is a fantastic candidate.” “Mother, I really don’t want to marry him.” Queen Lorien held up a hand to silence her daughter. However, her hand began to glow a faint green and she muttered a quick incantation. As soon as it started, her hand was no longer glowing. Nariel’s eyes glazed over. An air of calm was about her now. All the confusion and anger she had just been feeling suddenly left her body. She had known that her mother just cast a spell on her to calm her emotions, but the spell had made her too apathetic to even care about that. “Good.” Said the queen. “Now, let’s get you in your dress and prepare for the wedding.” Nariel softly nodded, her head barely even dipping. “Yes, mother.” Her voice sounded hollow. Like she was asleep, almost. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll end the spell before the ceremony. Even I wouldn’t go that far.” “Thank you, mother.” “Of course, dear.” The two women left the throne room together to prepare Nariel for the wedding. Back at the throne itself, Willow was conversing with king Ionan. Willow was somewhat leaning against the throne and said, “I’m sorry, my lord, I haven’t been paying very good attention to it lately. Have there been any executions at the waterfall recently?” The king looked up at Willow, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Why do you ask? You do understand that Nariel will oversee all executions, correct?” Willow paced away. “Yes, I know that. I suppose I was just hoping to learn what is at the bottom of the falls behind the castle.” Willow was of course referring to the great waterfall behind the castle that fell over a large cliff. The falls were made of two rivers that converge behind the castle. The water itself came from the walls of the city at the front gate, which were enchanted by druids to produce clean drinking water. When someone within the city committed a terrible crime, they would be thrown over the waterfall as an execution. However, since none in the golden kingdom ever leave the mountain, none had ever gone to the bottom of the cliff to discover where the water led. The king shook his head and said, “I would tell you what is at the bottom if I could. Unfortunately, I don’t know. The knowledge of who enchanted the walls to produce water and created the falls are a mystery. It happened eons ago and that knowledge has been lost to time, I’m afraid.” Willow held his chin in his hand. “Would it not be a good idea to send an expedition to discover what is down there?” “Not as wise as you may think. Whoever we send is most likely to discover the falls going into another river, and a pile of dead bodies. It is simply a waterfall. No need to overthink it.” “Perhaps you are right, sire.” Time passed as Nariel prepared for her wedding, and the king prepped Willow for his new role. At one point, Nariel had managed to break free of the spell her mother had placed on her. She took her earliest opportunity and attempted to escape again, only to find all possible exits had preemptively been closed off. She had accidentally cornered herself and her mother placed the spell on her yet again. Once all preparations had been made. The king, queen, Nariel, and Willow walked to the front door of the castle, surrounded by guards and druids. They had lined up in pairs of two and were prepared to exit the castle. From outside, they heard horns begin to play a triumphant tune, and as the doors to the castle swung open, the queen snapped her fingers to release Nariel from the spell. Nariel blinked a few times and realized where she was and what was happening. Panic quickly set in. She was surrounded by guards and no possible way to escape. She understood what her mother said now. Of course, I’ll release the spell before the ceremony. Because at that point, she wouldn’t need it. Of course her mother would pull this. There was no choice now. She began walking down the stairs of the castle to the city square, her eyes darting rapidly, her mind racing trying to think of any possible course of action. In her panic, she believed she was hallucinating. She thought she saw her new friends she met in Waterdeep, but that couldn’t be true, how could they have found her? How did they get in? She tried to blink the mirage from her eyes, but they were still there. She realized she wasn’t just seeing things, and saw that Pumpeck, the brave little knight, was riding a top a dog, waving energetically.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd #writing #amwriting #fantasy #fiction

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 7 years ago

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I got a les mis prompt for you! Enjolras is sick and doesn't want to tell his friends worried of being a burden to them. He tries to hide all his symptoms till he collapses during a meeting or rally and everyone is worried thinking he is dying or something. Turns out the illness isn't serious but he collapsed from dehydration mixed with exhaustion so he needs medicine, fluids and rest they have a group movie night/sleepover at his apartment to make sure he is okay and following instructions

(I love writing Enjolras so much!!! Have some more of my golden sun..who I also hurt a lot sorry lol..this got real angsty reaaal quick.)

Enjolras couldn’t always be their fierce, indestructible leader.

In fact, he thought himself as anything but that. He wasn’t their perfect, glowing icon, as much as he wished he could be. He wanted to be that for everyone, wanted to be this beacon of hope for his friends but he just wasn’t. Sometimes his friends forgot that pristine marble statues could break.

He had his down days. He had days where he just felt blue.

There were days Enjolras couldn’t find the heart to speak to anyone and withdrew away from everyone. He’d feel so exhausted and down for no particular reason. He’d just feel sad and dull and grey.

Sometimes Enjolras just felt so blue he’d feel detached from himself. He’d walk around in a derealised, abstract like world in a feverish like haze and let the world go by and he couldn’t even process anything. Nothing felt real. He’d forgot about himself, neglect himself and try to stay up later and keep working to try and feel, try and force himself to feel alive.

He wouldn’t go to bed, and when he did he would lay awake for a long period of time lost in his own thoughts and feeling anxious. He’d forget to drink and eat, feeling so lost and distracted that he just forgot.

At some point during all the late, sleepless nights and his lack of self care, the weird faux feverish haze he’d be experiencing actually became a feverish haze.

When he woke up with a splitting headache he knew he had taken ill, but there was no way Enjolras was going to tell anyone that he had.

They were only days before their rally, and they were truly hectic days. Everyone was busy and stressed trying to organise things and making sure everything was okay. Enjolras beyond proud of his amazing friends, and could not find the heart to burden their shoulders any more. It was a fever, he was going to be okay.

Enjolras dug through his closet, searching desperately for his winter clothing. It was nearing the end of the summer, but it was still pretty warm and hot. At least according to the weather app. But Enjolras was shaking furiously, and it was unbelievably hard to get out of his blankets that morning. Enjolras yanked an article of clothing out of his closet, pulled on his signature red sweater that hadn’t been taken out since the early spring.

Enjolras pulled on his thicker jeans and shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to keep himself warmer. He lets out a scratchy, rough cough against the crook of his arm and winces as his body is racked at the sheer force.

Once Enjolras finished, he sniffles weakly and splutters for a little. He wipes his nose tiredly on his jumper sleeve, his nose squishing against the material roughly. He looked up to see himself in the little mirror on the wall and cringed at his own appearance. He’s white as snow, besides his cheeks which are saturated a deep red. He’s got dark circles, and he looks like shit.

Suddenly there was a soft knock at the door of his apartment, causing Enjolras to jump slightly. He cleared his throat, quickly trying to tame his messy, golden curls as he rushed over to his door. He opened it to reveal Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac was beaming, glowing with energy and looked about the epitome of health. A vast contrast to how Enjolras looking. He was radiating with sunshine, smile so wide and in black shorts and a bright yellow, thin t-shirt. The sight of him in such thin clothing made Enjolras shudder.

“You ready, mon ami?” He beamed.

Enjolras opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off by a sharp, congested little cough he had to swiftly cover with his wrist, whipping his head away. He grinned sheepishly, “I am. Lets go?”

Courfeyrac seemed unfazed by it all and was more than willing to leave, but was quickly stopped by Combeferre who had an eyebrow raised. He clearly wasn’t very thrilled with the gruff edge to Enjolras’s voice, and the look of his face.

“Enj..what’s wrong? You look..you don’t look great,” Combeferre frowned.

Enjolras shook his head, chuckling lightheartedly.

“I-I’m okay, I promise, just a little jittery. We’ve..got a huge number turning up, bigger than we’ve had in a while,” Enjolras reassured, flashing then his winning, charming smile although it is a little flat. He felt way too sick and empty to be his usual, radiant self.

Combeferre took it for now, sighing fondly and tossing Enjolras’s hair about, “You’re going to be alright, E. It’s going to be okay. Lets go, now.”

Enjolras gave him a half hearted grin, trying to ignore how heavy and miserable he felt. He felt like he was about to collapse, and he couldn’t walk in a straight line. He wobbled hopelessly, desperately wishing that he could just see the world straight. He didn’t even feel at one with his own body. How was he supposed to make people feel whole and alive, when he couldn’t even feel alive at all?

The next hour went by in a daze.

It didn’t even feel real, like he was trapped in some abstract impressionist painting. He didn’t feel connected to his own body and just watched the world as it went by. He watched an empty clearing suddenly pile in with people, and then there was hundreds. It so much, and Enjolras felt both a weird culmination of overwhelmed and nothing at all.

Enjolras watched as people yelled with passion, hope and energy. It was exhilarating, and it was amazing, but it drained Enjolras to the very bone. He felt like there was a heavy weight hanging over his shoulders, and he was slumping and he felt so sick. He was shivering hard, desperately wishing he was in bed, and he loathed himself for it.

The Cause was so much bigger than some fever. It was so much bigger than his illness. He was such an awful person for this. There were so many people out there who needed to be enlightened, and yet he couldn’t just make himself cop on a little bit and feel less empty. He needed to be their fierce, passionate leader, but he was nothing, and Enjolras felt like such a horrible burden.

Enjolras blinked blearily, smothering a harsh, rugged cough against the crook of his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut as a pang of pain stabbed at his lungs as he coughed, balling his fists as his body convulsed with the intensity of his coughing. He was taken out of it by a warm hand on his shoulder, and it felt amazing against his freezing frame.

Enjolras turned around, and when his blue eyes met green he instantly felt a little better. For a moment he felt a little less empty, and somewhere inside of him a little spark ignited and it was a little warmer. Grantaire had this weird little magical ability to ground him and hold him steady when he seemed to be floating away.

Grantaire’s smile was soft, and his eyes were sparkling with the kindest eyes Enjolras had ever seen, it was melting him, “Hey, good luck out there.”

Enjolras couldn’t help the fond smile that wiped across his face, and the pink dusting his cheeks took as he looked away shyly. “..T-thanks..”

Grantaire only smiled, and hesitated for a moment, looking a little shaky and unsure, but then he was firm and so sure.

“..I just..wanted to let you know that..I believe in you.”

Enjolras froze up, and suddenly he felt a lot less empty and more something. He felt alive, the spark igniting into a burning fire.

“..You’ve given me something to believe in, Enjolras..and uh..I’m not really sure if you believe in yourself..I’ve noticed you’ve been a little distant the past week and not quite yourself. Not our usual, strong, invincible leader. I hope you’re okay.”

Enjolras laughed awkwardly, giving him a sad little smile, “Thank you for the concern..but uh..you’re slightly wrong there, I’ve been more myself this past week than I’ve ever been. I’m not really your strong invincible leader…u-uh i..”

Tears pricked his eyes as he tried to wipe them away and he chuckled nervously, “Im just not. Not really that. I-I’m really sorry.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened, laced with a mixture of sadness, concern, guilt and a lot more that Enjolras couldn’t really read in his fevered state. Then a moment of clarity washed over his eyes.

“..I never said I believed in this strong, invincible leader.”

Enjolras looked up to see his loving smile.

“..I said I believed in you. So get out there, tiger. You can do it.”

A tear spilled from his eyes, which he quickly wiped away as he let out a shaky laugh and smile. He nodded, turning away from him and facing the curtain. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and thought of Grantaire, shutting out all the parts of himself that told him he couldn’t. All he could hear was Grantaire telling him he could and he felt so alive.

He stepped out onto the stage and he shone.

Everything went by in a weird blur, all he can really remember was passionate screaming, a fire blazing in his heart as people cheered him on. He felt exhilarated, this hopeful, euphoric buzz spreading and dancing within his veins as this energy burst into flame inside of him.

His illness would come back and bite him to remind himself of its sickened state, he would have to turn away to cough for a while. Sometimes he’d have to grip tight onto the podium as a wave of nausea hit him once his headache intensified. Waves of coldness would hit him and he would shake violently, and heat waves would wash over him, so scorching hot he was close to toppling over and fainting.

But none of this mattered.

What mattered was the hundreds of people with hope, hope for a better tomorrow. A better world, a kinder world. He could see the hope and enlightenment in their eyes, ablaze with determination. They were being inspired by his words, but more than anything he was being inspired by them. He felt amazing.

Then it was over, and the crowd was roaring and clapping. There was so much happening. He took a small, humble bow before he made his way back stage, to where his friends awaited.

Their faces were lit with happiness, they were all glowing. Their eyes twinkled, smiles wide and bright, arms open. They looked so loving Enjolras wondered why he ever thought he was a burden.

He could faintly hear his friends congratulating him and saying other positive things, but they were all being drowned out by a loud ringing in his ears. His headache intensified, as he tried to inch closer to them but his body felt so weak and exhausted that every step he took leeched his energy.

Grantaire’s arms were open wide for him, and as much as Enjolras wanted to melt into his embrace and fall into him he couldn’t go much closer because his knees were buckling and his vision was dotting and darkening.

Then he was free falling and the last thing he heard was the horrified screams of his friends.

It’s chaos.

Their sun and moon, collapsed on the floor. Weakened and sick, Grantaire’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

In these hectic, horrifying moments he’s suddenly realising how much a world without Enjolras would pain him. How empty that world would be. And right now his beautiful world with Enjolras in it is teetering on the edge to becoming a world he does not want to live in.

Everyone is panicking, but Combeferre is running and checking for a pulse. Enjolras is alive.

Grantaire doesn’t even know much time has passed because he’s just standing there with his heart racing scared that he’s lost him. That’s a thought Grantaire’s heart cannot bear.

Combeferre tells them he’s alright, that he’s just fevered and sick, and that he needs to go home, all will be fine.

But until Enjolras is awake and he can see those beautiful blue eyes shining with its charming sparkle nothing is fine.

When Enjolras wakes up he’s snuggled up in his favourite blanket on his couch, and he can faintly hear the beginning of the Breakfast Club in the background. Someone is softly caressing and playing with his curls, and it feels so nice. His head is lying on a soft little pillow taken from his bed, on top of someone’s lap. He looks down and sees his feet plopped onto Courfeyrac’s lap, who is happily munching away at some popcorn.

Enjolras looks a little further to see Combeferre sitting on the arm rest next to Courfeyrac and is sharing his popcorn, one hand placed firmly on his shoulder. He stirs and looks down and sees the sleeping bags and blowup mattresses scattered across his floor. Cosette is lying her head on Marius’s shoulder, who’s cuddling her and resting his chin on the top of her hair. Eponine is sitting near them, with Feuilly next to her as they share a packet of gummy bears. Jehan and Bahorel are sharing a bag of crisps, Joly is drinking a glass of water, Bossuet is wiping up some spilled soda on the floor, and Musichetta is coming back from the entrance holding a few boxes of pizza.

The person who is stroking his hair accidentally strokes against his nose, and Enjolras’s breath hitched twice before he shifts to cover his sneeze with the crook of his arm.

Grantaire chuckles softly, “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Enjolras looked up to see him and he blushed hard, the rush of emotions suddenly making him aware of his headache. He shook his head.

“No, I woke up a minute before that,” His voice was hoarse and croaky. He sounds awful.

Combeferre frowned and felt Enjolras’s forehead, gets up and returned shortly afterwards with a glass of water, medicine, and a damp towel. He passed the glass of water and medicine for him to consume. Enjolras obliged.

“You had a pretty dangerous fever earlier, E, and you were extremely dehydrated so you passed out. Why didn’t you say anything?” Combeferre scolds worriedly.

Enjolras laid back against Grantaire and snuggled against him, curling up as Grantaire draped the damp cloth over his forehead.

“..I don’t really know,” Enjolras said shyly.

He could feel everyone’s worried gazes.

“Enjolras, you know you can speak to us about anything,” Cosette cooed gently.

“It’s nothing, I just didn’t realise,” Enjolras brushed off quickly.

Grantaire sighed, “E, you know it isn’t that.”

Enjolras looks around wildly, and realised he can’t win, and pushed himself off of Grantaire to sit up. He’s a bit awkward, uncomfortable from being so vulnerable and feeling overwhelmed by everyone pausing the movie and turning around to look at him softly.

Before Enjolras even opens his mouth tears are already pricking his eyes, “I-I..just..had such a bad week..I-I felt so..so alone..which is really stupid because you’re all here for me and I just..felt so sad. I forgot to take care of myself and I-it’s..b-been tough..”

Enjolras’s voice cracked and he swallows, sniffling and looking away, “U-uh..I just felt like such a burden, you know? Y-you all see me as this amazing leader b-but the truth is, you guys, I’m just not. I’m so fucking weak. I-I’m so sorry I’m not but I’m just a stupid fucking boy who w-wants a better world.”

“Enj..you should’ve said so..” Courfeyrac said sadly.

“..You’re always telling us to reach out and you’re always here to listen to us, but you need to realise that it also applies to you, okay? We’re all here for you,” Combeferre said kindly.

Marius offers him a soft smile, "And you are not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know.“

"But you also have to start telling us these things, all of us would’ve been more than willing to be there for you. You really scared us, earlier, Enj..we thought you had died,” Bahorel says softly.

Grantaire wraps his arms around him and brings him close, embracing him with so much love and care, “Enjolras..we don’t need you to be fucking superman. You being just a guy, is so much more inspiring that way. A human can change the world, a human with flaws, it shows me there is still hope. You’ve given me hope again, Enjolras.”

Grantaire presses a shy, soft kiss against his cheek, “..We are right here, right by your side.”

Enjolras lets out a shaky laugh, and lets himself melt into Grantaire’s loving embrace and right here in his arms the world feels a lot lighter.

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