#Why must my hands betray me and not let me draw him how I picture him in my head!!?!?!

[fluffychubbydragon]

I have so much brain rot for my Auberon but my hand betray me and won't let me put him in poses! Why must my drawing skill suck so much!!! 😭

[somerpmemes]

The Owl House Starters

Change as needed

“No! My only weakness! Dying!”

“That doesn’t count, right?”

“Do you have any friends? Real ones?”

“Tiny trash thief!”

“Oops, that happens sometimes.”

“I’m a squirmy little fella.”

“I like food, I like love, just let me write about it!”

“Oh, he gets so cute when he’s thirsty for power.”

“I’ve never actually broken any of your stupid laws… in front of you.”

“I hate everything you’re saying right now.”

“We’d be the strongest power couple ever.”

“Self-doubt is a prison you can never escape from.”

“Anyways, let’s bounce before any more monsters fall in love with me.”

“I am not your cutie pie!”

“No one wants an un-oiled snake.”

“Remember, never befriend a man in sandals and always measure twice, cut once.”

“Be back by nightfall or risk mortal peril!”

“I know I’ve had enough delight for one day.”

“Sorry to break it to you, ___, but no one here is that well-dressed.”

“This has been a rough day.”

“Big houses always belong to big whack jobs.”

“Today just got good.”

“Wizards are just old people with glitter in their pockets.”

“Anyways, your food is gone and we are too.”

“Never trust a man in casual drapery.”

“All that mean-spirited laughter made me sleepy.”

“I don’t like this. I really don’t like this.”

“All your food was so tiny and cute.”

“If you can think of a better plan I’d love to hear it.”

“Betrayed by my own cool accessories.”

“I didn’t have to be part of this!”

“I… don’t like this.”

“I think I’ll head home and look at pictures of animals that are still… alive.”

“Wow, you’re so unnoticeable I almost rolled into you.”

“It’s okay, the thorns only went through a few layers of skin.”

“Alright, into the darkness you go.”

“Oh my god, I haven’t eaten real food in so long please give me some.”

“You can’t just cut open a human, can you?”

“Keeping junk in my pocket saved my life!”

“Ahh, baby’s first wanted poster.”

“Even demons have inner demons.”

“This is my paying attention face.”

“Look, now we’re boo boo buddies.”

“It’s like a rainbow, but looking at it turns you inside out.”

“I respect your cunning but I also hate you for it.”

“Oh, gross. Can I keep that?”

“This is terrifying, so why do you look so happy?”

“Oh no, a twist!”

“I’m kind of over that nickname, but okay.”

“Oh, what lovely thing do we have here? It’s just so dang shiny, oh my.”

“And look, I drew flip book.”

“I will literally do anything to stop this.”

“If I’m seen, I could go to jail… again.”

“Alright, let’s see this mess.”

“That’s probably fine.”

“Time to prepare for bloodshed.”

“Welcome down to my level!”

“I know I should be repulsed but that look is fierce.”

“I’m gonna steal everything that’s not nailed down!”

“I was up all night poison tasting and, for some reason, I don’t feel great.”

“I need an extra pair of eyes looking out for pickpockets. And an extra pair of hands in case I want to pickpocket.”

“I got leaves in my pants. And I like it.”

“I was a strange child.”

“You think this can stop me? I can still bite your ankles.”

“If you’re gonna eat me, just do it now!”

“___, you’re getting all swoony again.”

“Rivals are meant to be annihilated, not befriended.”

“Witches eating babies is so 1693.”

“Ugh, you.”

“I thought we were as cool as cucumbers but we’re as sour as pickles.”

“Whoa, I almost passed out.”

“It’s been hours, how can it keep screaming!?”

“Say that again and I steal your tongue.”

“Keep going, this is fun to watch.”

“Isn’t that taking it a bit too far?”

“Just go away before things somehow get worse!”

“This never happened.”

“And who doesn’t like their name in lights?”

“That’s the incorrect reaction!”

“I smell an easy mark.”

“Well, I hate her.”

“It’s like demonic possession with the ones you love.”

“This is just like my favorite early 2000’s movie!”

“I’m so old… and pointy.”

“I’ve got some very confusing emotions right now.”

“My life’s not a joke! But yours is!”

“Novelty costumes are where I draw the line.”

“I am not above disrespecting my elders.”

“This vacation just took an alarming, back-alley turn.”

“Geez, I thought I’d like being babied. But I feel small and helpless, like some sort of baby.”

“Hey, take this, society!”

“I didn’t like her telling me what to do before, but now I love it!”

“Let’s go let out some teen angst!”

“This is how the cool kids ride. Super backwards, on purpose.”

“Your life is pretty terrible. But, hey, it’ll probably be over soon.”

“This is some of my best work, really captures the shame.”

“That’s sweet, kid. Now let’s never speak of this again.”

“Show, don’t tell, man.”

“Oh, look what you did. I’m gonna go rub it in.”

“That seems like a potential problem to me.”

“You being the razzle, I’ll bring the dazzle.”

“Do you always have confetti on you or—?”

“You’re just gonna be unhelpful, huh?”

“Okay, time to run for no particular reason!”

“Oof, I’ve had this nightmare before.”

“Like I’d actually apologize.”

“I want power, and I want drama.”

“Are you ready to give up?”

“I was afraid, I acted stupid.”

“I just wish you told me the truth.”

“You know, it didn’t taste as bad as I thought I would.”

“Impressive, still alive.”

“This is a throne worthy of a tyrant!”

“No, no, keep those sticky hands away.”

“No one wants to see that.”

“Since when are you into sports?”

“Gross, sympathy.”

“Don’t spend all night plotting revenge.”

“Oh, this is an interesting development.”

“I’ll take that weird grumble as a yes.”

“I’m feeling confident about this plan.”

“Trust must be earned.”

“If you run, you’ll just make it harder for yourself!”

“Your pride has destroyed you.”

“So tiny, so angry.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be clean again.”

“If you ever want to search for the truth, I’ll help you.”

“Aww, that’s a horrible lie.”

“Partake of my free snack samples!”

“Why isn’t anyone paying attention to me?”

“A, eww. B, I’m bored. C, I feel like pickpocketing some dork while they browse.”

“I know my good angle.”

“Ugh, what are the basement dwellers doing out in natural sunlight?’

“Hey, there’s more to life than shipping.”

“___, I know you’re trying to help, but I think you’re crossing a line.”

“Ooh, I love punching.”

“You’re ominous, and I like it.”

“And of course you would be here just to be a nuisance.”

“I wanted to compare sunglasses.”

“Fame can really box you in, you know?”

“Besides, if anyone’s putting you down it’s gonna be me.”

“If it’s disappointing in any way I’ll spend the rest of my life trashing it.”

“He scammed us. Can you believe he scammed us?”

“Good entrance. But that outfit? Hah!”

“I’ve got a new crush and her name is education!”

“Ahh, fresh garbage.”

“I have never seen such an extravagant earring.”

“Wow, a surprisingly peaceful domestic moment. When will it be ruined?”

“Weaponizing my pride, well played.”

“Sorry, whoever’s over there!”

“Well, go on. Eat the snow.”

“Huh, it’s no fun if they don’t tremble.”

“Oh, okay, alright. Yup, an idea’s happening.”

“Shh! I don’t need your validation!”

“Get back here before that thing bites you!”

“No, we’re gonna die.”

“Cool. I didn’t actually think you could do it.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Alright, your adorable banter is literally making me sick.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse.”

“Aww. I won’t be doing that, but thanks.”

“Quitting: it’s like trying, but easier.”

“You humans are filled with liquids, right?”

“I guess I have always liked pouring things into other things.”

“Time to scrounge through the trash.”

“I ain’t no desk jockey.”

“You don’t know diddly dang about squiddly squat!”

“I love secret rooms!”

“You have an aura of lies.”

“Also, you can eat trash.”

“Do the right thing, you dingus!”

“It just goes on like this for an hour.”

“Carnivals bring crowds and crowds bring suckers.”

“We’ve got scams to run.”

“I know poison when I see it.”

“You can’t scam a scammer.”

“You should really put a lock on your closet.”

“I love crimes!”

“Now this is my kind of weird.”

“That’s way safer than becoming blood brothers.”

“Beat up the man and steal his things for me.”

“This mama is ready for trauma.”

“All right. Approval!”

“Curse these stubby legs!”

“Sketchy carnival rides are not to blame this time.”

“___, you’re lucky I can’t be mad at your adorable antics.”

“Just when I thought I couldn’t respect the law any less…”

“Aww, what a supportive sign.”

“Yep, I just counted to one million.”

“Looks like we ruined his life for a second time.”

“I’ve always wanted to own a jagged piece of cheap metal.”

“Yes! Bread puns, bread puns forever!”

“Now I know what friendship tastes like.”

“I think today is a talons day.”

“It’s fun because it’s stupid.”

“I’ll admit, I was adorable.”

“Be careful with my brain.”

“Wouldn’t you rather talk about it?”

“That’s my motto after all, ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’”

“No schemes, no plots, no ruses. None.”

“I can’t believe I made him cry.”

“Are you solving a crime or about to commit one?”

“Sadly this is one problem crime can’t solve.”

“I’m supposed to choose someone interesting, accomplished, and noteworthy. People aren’t meant to be all those things!”

“Yup, her brain’s burned up real good.”

“Be still my fantasy-loving heart.”

“I’m pretty good at getting stuck inside people’s heads.”

“Hey, I found something magical.”

“I’ma put my face in it.”

“It’s like a little doghouse for angels.”

“If you’re handing out attention, I deserve it.”

“Eww, I mean, aww.”

“I really messed things up.”

“It’s eggs, it’s full of eggs.”

“No one turns down an interview with someone this pretty.”

“Me? Avoid? What? No. But let’s skip it.”

“There’s levels to me, kid. Levels I say!”

“Oh, right, I put people in there.”

“I’m gonna hug you so hard you’ll never forget me again!”

“I regret teaching you about the internet.”

“Ah, a severed hand. Perfect response.”

“Hmm, the demon at my shoulder makes a good point.”

“Always trust a shoulder demon.”

“The more I look at him, the more uncomfortable I get.”

“Man, you’ve got some quick grabbers.”

“I can’t wait to get overdressed, take awkward photos, push all the buttons!”

“We’re gonna turn this bloodbath into a fun bath.”

“Do you think I could pull off red eyeshadow?”

“Girl, you could pull off anything.”

“We’re style geniuses!”

“Ominous footsteps, creepy woods, this is no problem.”

“Dang, I look great.”

“___, you always go overboard and I end up bailing you out.”

“Now, what’s the fun in watching a kid get eaten by a monster if it’s my kid?”

“___, I don’t think you’re ready but we’re literally out of time.”

“Why so twitchy, witchy?”

“Teenagers are brutal. They’ll boo anyone and that kind of public humiliation will stick with you for life.”

“You look nice. Strange, but nice.”

“Honestly, I’m kind of amazed with how fearless you are.”

“You’ve done things I could never do.”

“Thing is, you’re sitting in my personal chitchat zone, which means you gotta talk.”

“I am a little weirdo.”

“You gotta pander.”

“Cheating a isn’t anything to brag about.”

“Well, can’t reason with crazy!”

“I’ve been talking for too long.”

“Feeling sentimental?”

“I love water.”

“I don’t know much about sports but I do know about sports movies.”

“What happens in the montage stays in the montage.”

“Not everything can be solved with a good attitude and a dope movie soundtrack.”

“Sorry, I just really love backstories.”

“You just destroyed your social life.”

“That’s such a stupid rule!”

“You’re not gonna show this to anyone, right?”

“I haven’t forgotten what you promised me.”

“Ahh, you’re a thorn in my side but you always dig your way into my heart.”

“Jeez, you’re morbid.”

“Ahh, it’s a fate much worse than death if you think about it.”

“Please don’t make me regret taking you here.”

“Love me a properly ventilated castle.”

“I spy with my little eye something coming this way!”

“I’m going away and I don’t know if I can come back this time.”

“And  ___, thank you, for being in my life.”

“I want her back as much as you do.”

“Don’t look at me like that, this is for your own good.”

“Ah farts, I got caught.”

“You understand, don’t you?”

“Please tell me that’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“To be great, you have to make sacrifices.”

“Ahh, ___, you chose the wrong side.”

“I like your spirit, but try that again and things won’t end well for you.”

“Go on, then. Go be a hero.”

“I may have lost but so have you.”

“I can teach you what I know, and what we don’t know we can learn together.”

[writethelifeyouwant]

Come On

Pairing: Cordell x Reader 

Rating: 18+

Tags: Daddy kink, dom/sub, punishment scene, age difference, secret relationship 

Word Count: 3.2k 

Created for: @walker-bingo - Spanking | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Lingerie

Dividers: @firefly-graphics 

Your phone vibrates on your desk, the sudden noise nearly making you stab yourself in the eye with your mascara wand. You glance down and see Cordell’s face flashing on the screen, and you smile, accepting the call and hitting ‘speaker’. 

“Hey there,” you chirp as you return to doing your makeup. 

“Hi,” the smile in Cordell’s voice is audible. “So, I just heard from Stella that you’re coming over soon? Why didn’t you tell me I’d get to see you today?” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you giggle. Of course, you hadn’t told Stella that you were trying to surprise her dad by showing up unannounced, so it’s not her fault that she ruined your plan. You felt bad sometimes, keeping your relationship with Cordell secret from your best friend, but how are you supposed to tell someone that you slept with their dad – and that you plan to keep doing it? Plus, Cordell had been very insistent that no one could know about your relationship, so you couldn’t betray his trust by telling his daughter what you two had been up to for the past few months. The secrecy just made it hotter most of the time anyways, so you didn’t mind the sneaking around. 

“Well, I’m glad I get to see you tonight, baby girl.” The register of Cordell’s voice drops when he says your nickname, and you shiver pleasantly. 

“I can’t wait to see you either, Daddy,” you smile, smacking your lips together as you put the finishing touches on your lipstick and smile at your reflection in the mirror. 

“Do I get a sneak peek at your dress?” Cordell asks. You’d sent him an excited text from the store when you’d finally found the perfect outfit for your graduation dance at school, but you hadn’t let him see it yet. You pick your phone up and carry it to the closet where your dress is hanging on the back of the door, and you snap a quick photo of the corner of the bodice, so he can get a look at the deep, jewel tone colour of the lace. 

“Sent you a pic,” you call down the receiver of the phone as you set it down to pull on your stockings. You fasten the stockings to your suspender belt as you wait for Cordell’s reaction, and you tug the bustier you’re wearing back into place once you have everything on and clipped together. 

“You know how much I like lace on you, baby girl.” You smirk in satisfaction-- that’s precisely why you’d chosen this dress. “I bet it will look beautiful on you.” 

“Do you want to see what else I’m wearing tonight, Daddy?” You keep your voice innocent and coy, knowing he’ll take the bait. 

“Of course I do, darlin’. You know the rules, I always get a picture if you wear one of the things I picked out for you.” You smile wickedly as you arrange yourself in the mirror to show off the new lingerie that you’d bought especially for this night. Cordell is going to love it, but he isn’t going to be pleased with you when he sees it. The two of you have rules. He gets to pick out all of the lingerie you buy, and any time you wear it you have to send him a photo of you in it. Cordell didn’t pick out the set you’re wearing now, so you know you’re going to be in trouble with him later when you get to Stella’s house – and you can’t wait. 

You pose yourself in the mirror to highlight your curves, which are wrapped in glittering lace and ribbon details, and push your hand into your hair to muss it up for the picture. You take a few and pick one you’re happy with, sending it to Cordell with the caption ‘can’t wait until you get your hands on me in this 😉’. Then you sit back on your bed and wait for Cordell to receive the text. 

“Did you get it, Daddy?” You ask when he’s silent for a few moments. 

“Is that some new underwear, baby girl?” Cordell asks measuredly. 

“Uh-huh,” you giggle. 

“I don’t remember picking that out for you, angel,” Cordell’s voice drops in pitch, growing threatening, and you smile widely. 

“It was another surprise for you, Daddy,” you answer innocently, acting like you didn’t notice the change in Cordell’s tone just then. 

“I hope you were about ready to leave, baby girl, because I expect you here in 20 minutes. If you’re late, there will be an extra punishment, do you understand?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” your voice has climbed higher in excitement. 

“Good.” Cordell ends the call without a goodbye, and you know you’re in for it now. 

You ring the old iron bell on the porch by their front door when you arrive, with just a minute and a half to spare. Cordell opens the door with a friendly smile and ushers you into the kitchen with a call behind his back of – “Stella! Y/N is here!” – before turning back to you and giving you a quick hug. 

“Hey Mr. Walker,” you smirk, knowing it drives him crazy when you call him that. He rolls his eyes at you but smiles – from how he’s acting now you’d never know that he’s about to punish you for breaking his rules. 

“Come on, do a little twirl for me darlin’,” Cordell spins his finger through the air and you whirl around on your toes, demonstrating the movement of your dress. The hem flips up as you spin, showing off the slightest hint of lace and the tops of the stockings that you’d teased him with earlier in your photos. “You look beautiful, Y/N,” his eyes soften as he looks you up and down, admiring the dress, and you in it. 

“Thanks,” you blush, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. It astonishes you that he can still make you feel butterflies like this, just by saying something so simple. The sound of a door from the hall draws your attention and you look up to see Stella running into the kitchen, still in her bathrobe. 

“Y/N, you look so awesome!” Stella squeals and gives you a big hug. “You’re early, I wasn’t expecting you for another hour,” she laughs exasperatedly. 

“Well you know me,” you shrug, “I got impatient,” you giggle, your eyes flashing to Cordell, who smirks at you behind Stella’s back. He knows just how impatient you can be sometimes.  

“I’m still doing my hair, come hang out in my room,” Stella pulls you along behind her. 

“Yeah of course, but can I use your bathroom first?” 

“August is taking a shower, but he should be done soon,” Stella says. 

“You can use the one in my room,” Cordell offers, like you knew he would. “Here, I’ll show ya.” He moves in front of you and Stella, and beckons you down the hall after him. 

“Thanks, Mr. Walker,” you smile, and follow him to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Once inside, he shuts the door quietly behind you and his demeanor instantly changes. 

“So,” Cordell gives you a tight lipped smile, his eyes darkening as they once again rake up and down your body, but this time he lets the hunger seep through. 

“Sooo,” you draw out the word, moving closer to him and swirling your skirt around your legs as you go. 

“Someone decided to break one of our rules, hmm?” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at you stonily. 

“I just thought you’d like it Daddy,” you pout up at him. “I know how much you like me in lace, and I wanted to look pretty for you.” You press your hands against his chest and flutter your lashes, but you know this innocent act isn’t going to get you any mercy. 

“You look very pretty in it, but that’s not the point baby girl. We have rules for a reason.” Cordell smiles at you sympathetically and reaches out to rub his hands up and down your arms in a comforting gesture. The heat of his skin against yours makes you shudder, and you let him draw you closer to him. “So you know I’m gonna have to punish you now, yeah?” 

“I know, Daddy,” you nod meekly. 

“But you’re gonna have to stay real quiet, so Stels and August don’t hear us. Can you do that for me?” he checks. 

“I can be quiet, Daddy.”

“Okay, good girl,” Cordell smiles and lets you go, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. “Come on,” he twirls his finger in the air and pats his knee, and you go willingly, acting penitent but secretly loving this inside. You drape yourself over his lap, your ass in the air right over his groin, and you can feel the stirrings of his arousal beneath you. He flips the hem of your dress up, revealing the offending lace panties that had gotten you into trouble in the first place. His hands run over your thighs, pinging the suspenders against your skin and making you jump a little against him. “Easy, baby,” he soothes, chuckling. “So, how many do you think you deserve for breaking the rules this time?” 

“I don’t know, Daddy,” you squirm. As much as you love to provoke Cordell, and get him to punish you, you’re never good at this part. You hate how he essentially makes you ask for what you want done to you, which is exactly why he does it. 

“Well, it is your graduation dance tonight, so maybe I can go a little easy on you. Should we say ten, baby girl?” 

“Okay, Daddy,” you nod into your arms, which are holding you up on the mattress. 

“Alright then, count them off for me baby.” And without any more preamble Cordell brings his palm down firmly against your right asscheek. You gasp at the sting, wriggling on his lap. 

“One,” you say quietly, pressing your head against your arms and bracing for the next hit. It comes swiftly, his hand smacking your left side. “Two.” You can feel yourself getting wet now, and you know Cordell must be able to see the moisture seeping through the lace between your legs. The embarrassment at that thought makes you squirm even more, turned on by the humiliation that you like your punishments this much. 

Hits three and four come hard and fast, not even giving you time to count between them. Cordell’s big hand rubs across your skin to soothe you, and he gives you a moment to breathe before he doles out hits five and six – each harder than the last. Now you can feel the slick starting to drip down the crease of your thigh, and Cordell notices too, because he reaches out and draws a finger through the trail that’s winding its way across your skin. 

“What’s this, baby girl?” he coos from above you. 

“N-nothing, Daddy,” you stutter. 

“What a little slut, getting all wet for Daddy while he’s spanking you. You really are a bad girl, aren’t you baby?”

“No,” you protest quickly. “No, Daddy, I’m good, I promise.” You have to be good during your punishments, or else you won’t get your reward after. 

“Yeah? You’re a good girl?” Cordell teases his finger below the lace between your legs, brushing his fingertip through your folds, and pushing lightly against your entrance. 

“Yes, I’m a good girl, Daddy,” you whine, pushing your hips back against his finger. “Your good girl Daddy, please.” 

“Please what, baby?” 

“Please keep punishing me, Daddy,” you push your ass towards his hand, moaning when he digs his fingers into your flesh. 

“Alright baby, just four more for me, you’re doing really good.” You smile to yourself as you count seven and eight, pushing your hips back into the harsh contact each time, relishing in the heat that blooms in the wake of each slap. 

“Spread your legs a little for me baby girl,” Cordell pushes at your thighs, moving them apart himself. You let him position you how he wants, following the pressure he puts on your lower back and sticking your hips farther back, exposing the visible wet spot between your legs to the open air. A harsh strike lands directly over your pussy and you cry out briefly before you remember to muffle your voice against your skin. 

“N-nine,” you gasp, your pussy throbbing beneath Cordell’s hand, which is rubbing between your legs to soothe the burn it had just caused. 

“Keep quiet f’me, baby,” Cordell breathes, and you can hear how worked up he’s getting just from punishing you. You’re glad that at least you’re not the only one. 

He lands one more cruel spank over your pussy and you bite on your forearm to keep from crying out, whimpering a quiet “ten” into your skin as you squirm in is his lap, trying to press your hips into his fingers, which are brushing lightly over the sopping lace covering your core. He lets you press into him, rewarding you by dragging his fingers up to your clit and running a few teasing circles over the little bundle of nerves. 

“Did so good for me, baby girl,” Cordell whispers gruffly, stroking more earnestly as he teases you through your underwear. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whimper softly, thrusting needily against his fingers, trying to get more friction against your aching core. “Please Daddy, please,” you beg, not even able to conjure the words for what you need, you’re too desperate. All your brain can think is please, need something, need more. 

“Okay baby, c’mere,” Cordell manoeuvres you off of his lap and you stand on shaky legs before you lean against the nearby dresser for support. Cordell stands and follows you, undoing his belt and zipper, and pulling his hard cock out of his boxers. Your mouth always waters when you see it, and right now is no different. If you had more time you’d drop to your knees and suck him down – you love the ache you get in your jaw every time he fucks your mouth – but right now you both have a different goal in mind. 

Cordell lifts you and sets you on top of his dresser, so he can reach your mouth easier, and kisses you deeply. You moan against his lips, letting your tongues tangle together and reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it gently and giggling when he lets out a groan and bites at your lip. He runs his hands down your back and scooches you to the edge of the dresser, grabbing his dick to rub the tip against your centre, pushing your panties to the side as he does, so he can press into your entrance. 

When he pushes in, oh so slowly, you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from moaning too loudly. He fills you so completely, it feels like every nerve between your legs is on fire, and you would happily burn in the flames. Cordell gives a few shallow thrusts, probably not wanting to move too quickly and accidentally hurt you, but the dresser thumps against the wall with each movement, and he stills again, needing to keep quiet. In a flash, he’s hooked his arms around your back and lifted you up in the air. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking him inside you as he moves the pair of you to the wall, pressing you against it for support and shifting his hands to grip your ass and hold you up. 

Slowly, he pulls out and pistons back in, testing how quiet your new position is. Satisfied that you can be sufficiently sneaky this way, he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusting, and this position has his hips dragging across your clit with every press forward. You bury your head against his shoulder and bunch your hands in his shirt. You’re just along for the ride at this point, letting him use your body to chase his own release, and you can tell he’s close when his thrusts get quicker, messier. He bends his knees a little to change angles and get a better grip on you, and on the next thrust in his cock drags right over that sweet spot inside you and you can’t hold in the whimper of “Daddy” against his neck. 

“Yeah, that’s it baby girl,” Cordell breathes against your ear, bucking his hips into you faster and faster, and you can feel your pussy start to twitch around his length, desperate to reach your peak. “I can feel how close you are baby, your little pussy feels so good squeezing around Daddy’s cock like that. C’mon and come for me baby girl, come for Daddy.” He ducks in to swallow your whines in a bruising kiss, and you let yourself come undone around him as he kisses you through it, drinking in your moans and letting them spur him on.

 As you come down, and feel yourself start to loosen around him, losing the strength in your limbs to keep yourself locked in place, you feel Cordell’s movements quicken, becoming jerky and erratic, and then they still as he holds himself inside you, grunting through his own release as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. When he’s finished, he slowly drags his head away from your shoulder and pulls out of you. Immediately, you feel his release start to drip from your entrance but Cordell pulls your panties back into place to catch the cum that’s leaking out of you now. The thought of going to this dance with his cum pooling in your new panties is deliciously wrong, and you love how dirty it makes you feel. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you smile up at him, and pull him down for another kiss. “I promise I’ll be good from now on.” Cordell scoffs, good naturedly but completely disbelieving. 

“Now, we both know that’s not true, don’t we?” he smirks down at you. 

“Well…” you muse with a teasing smile. 

“Yeah,” Cordell laughs derisively and places a short kiss against your forehead. “That’s what I thought.” He swats at your ass and pushes you towards the door to the bathroom in the corner of his bedroom. “Now, go clean yourself up and get out of here. Have a good time at your dance tonight.” You smile and nod, heading for the bathroom. “And, Y/N?” You turn and look back at Cordell, leaning against the dresser and watching you with a smirk. “You know the rules – I better get a few more pictures of you in those panties while you’re out later. I wanna see what a mess I made of my baby girl.” 

You grin, squeezing your legs together and feeling his slick pressing against your core. “Of course Daddy,” you smile. “You know me, I always follow the rules.”

Tag List: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @sonofslaanesh69 @lovealways-j @delightfullykrispypeach @stoneyggirl @walkersbabygirl @austin-winchester67 @sams-sass​

[sequinsmile-x]

Bait

In which Aaron looks like the victims of the case they are on, and Emily does not like Dave's suggestion that they use her boyfriend as bait.

This was originally meant to be a mini fic for here, but in a way that is very on brand I got carried away and now its a full on one shot.

Words: 4k 

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence 

Read on AO3 via this link, or below the cut

Let me know what you think! 

Emily wakes to the sounds of a phone ringing. She groans when the arm that had been wrapped around her waist moves, leaving the chill from the air to hit her skin.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rough with the early morning, and it was clear he’d had very limited sleep. She settles down further into the bed, trying to claim the last few moments of rest before they have to leave. “Ok thanks, Garcia. Call the others and tell them to go straight to the jet.”

He hangs up and lays back down behind her. He closes the gap between them, pressing his naked chest up against her back. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer, nudging hair away from her neck with his nose so he can kiss her throat.

“Morning.” He says, nuzzling her neck. “We’ve got a case in Colorado. We’re meeting on the jet and Garcia is going to brief us in full once we’re wheels up.” He kisses the side of her head. “She’ll call you soon.”

“It’s way too early.” She grumbles, opening one eye to see it was only just 4am. She bats at him when he laughs into her neck. He grabs her hand and kisses her knuckles, laughing when she grumbles again, curse words whispered at him under her breath.

The longer they had been together, now 6 months since his fumbled attempt at asking her out on their first date, the more she felt uncomfortable that they were keeping this from the team. It was starting to feel like a dirty secret, when it was anything but. They loved each other, they’d had a serious conversation about their future. Discussions of a house, a wedding and children whilst laying in the dark together. But they still hadn’t taken that step, still hadn’t told the people they considered their family that they were a couple. Emily knows it’s because they were in too deep now, too far into this secret to claw their way out without there being some uncomfortable conversations.

She knew they’d be happy for them, but it would open their relationship that had been almost exclusively just for them up to scrutiny. The others would watch them, try to observe their behaviour around each other. Their relationship meant too much to her for it to be profiled like the criminals they chased.

She was surprised they hadn’t caught it at JJ’s wedding. Her and Aaron had danced together, his hand a little too low on her back for it to be considered friendly. How they had both disappeared into Dave’s house at the same time, gone for 30 minutes with poor excuses for their absence upon their return. She still couldn’t go into Dave’s first floor bathroom without blushing, memories of her pushed up against the door with Aaron’s hand over her mouth. His joy at her decision to stay, to turn down Clyde’s offer of a job across an ocean, was too great for them to wait until they got back to his home or hers.

Her phone rings and she sighs as she extracts herself from his embrace just enough to pick up her cell phone from the nightstand. “Hey, Pen.”

Emily tries to listen to Penelope as she gives her the same basic details she had given Aaron only moments before, but she is distracted by his lips against her neck, his hand drifting down her abdomen. She manages to catch it with her spare hand, gripping a little harder than necessary when she links their fingers, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

She hangs up the phone with a goodbye to Penelope, hoping the other woman hadn’t heard Aaron’s laugh he had attempted to press into her skin. “That was mean.”

“It’s not my fault you’re irresistible.”

Emily turns over and kisses him, anchoring her hand to the back of his head. She pulls back enough to smile at him. “Do you have a suit here?”

Aaron nods, kissing her gently. “Yes. And my go-bag is in my car.”

She smiles. “Perfect.” Another kiss. “That means we have time for a shower before you have to go.” _____________

When she steps onto the jet the only seat left is next to Aaron. He looks at her, an eyebrow raised as she sits next to him.

“You’re late, Prentiss.”

She looks at him pointedly, a subtle narrowing of her eyes that she knows he catches.

“Sorry, sir.” She says, biting back the temptation to say it was his fault she was late in the first place, their joint shower lasting twice as long as it should have done. He’d left her at her place less than half an hour ago, a kiss pressed to her lips as she was drying her hair, a promise that he would see her soon. “It won’t happen again.”

Emily fights a smirk at the brief sparkle in his eye. This had become part of their game, pushing the boundaries a little further each time, wondering when the team would catch on to what was going on between them.

They all make small talk as the jet takes off, pointless conversation over cups of coffee. Once they reach altitude Penelope calls and they start to go over the case. Emily freezes when she looks at the pictures of the victims. They are all male. Handsome. White, tall and broad with dark hair.

They all looked like Aaron.

And these men were being viciously beaten to death. She looked up and everyone was still listening to Penelope as she told them the details. It gave her a second to recover, forcing herself to tune back into the conversation around her. ____________

They were struggling to build a profile. The men who were being killed had little in common apart from how they looked and where they were being killed. The only bar in town, a dingy place that reminded Emily too much of her misspent youth.

On the second day they were in town another man was found dead in the alley behind the bar, his face beaten almost beyond recognition. Emily went and delivered the news to his widow, and desperately tried to ignore how much the man in the pictures displayed on the walls looked like Aaron.

She barely sleeps that night. They were good on cases, rarely sneaking into each other's rooms. She knew he had to have seen it too, that she wasn’t imagining how similar the victims looked to him, so she didn’t want to burden him with it. She didn’t want to make this about how it was making her feel. So she stayed in her room, and eventually drifted off to sleep in a bed she wished he was in too.

Emily wakes up gasping, images of Aaron’s dead body in that alley burned into her eyelids.

She doesn’t sleep again that night, and is grateful when he presses a coffee into her hands in the morning, his thumb discreetly skating over her knuckles. ____________

“What shall we do now?” JJ asks. There were concerns that the unsubs, because they had figured there must be more than one person given the size of the men being killed, would strike again that night. The devolution of their actions indicated that there would be an attack a night until they were caught.

“We just so happen to have someone on the team that matches the victim profile.” Dave says, acknowledging what none of them had said out loud in the three days they had been in Colorado. Everyone looks at Aaron expectantly, and Emily thinks she has never been closer to killing David Rossi. “We could plant you at the bar where the victims have gone missing from, see if we can draw the unsub in.”

“And what?” Emily says, somehow keeping her voice even. “Use Hotch as bait?”

“It’s our only option.” Aaron says, a flash of apology across his face as he briefly looks at her. “I can’t exactly wear this to a club.” He says gesturing to his suit. “I very clearly look like an FBI agent.”

Derek and Dave laugh at his attempt at humour, Emily does not.

“Hotch.” She says evenly, her voice not betraying the emotions that were tumbling around in her chest. He turns to look at her, his face neutral. “Can I have a quick word?” She tilts her head towards an empty office and he nods and follows. If the others think it's odd that she wants to speak to him alone they don’t say anything.

“I don’t like this, Aaron.” She says as soon as the door closes behind them, her voice a rushed whisper, not wanting anyone to potentially overhear if they walked past the tiny office. He opens his mouth to speak, but she talks again, cutting him off before he can even start. “We don’t know enough how the unsubs are doing this. Or why they are doing it. It’s too risky.”

“Emily.” Aaron says, his voice soft in a way he only usually used with her when they were alone, tangled up in his sheets or hers, or snuggled together on one of their couches. It makes her sigh, and she closes her eyes to briefly break eye contact with him, knowing he is about to convince her exactly why he had to do this despite her reservations. “We have no other choice. I fit the victimology and we can’t risk them killing someone else.”

“What if this was the other way around?” She asks, crossing her arms across her chest as she tries to reason with him. “Are you seriously telling me that you’d be fine with me going in there? That you’d be ok with me being used as bait after you’d spent the last few days looking at pictures of bodies of people who looked exactly like me?”

Aaron opens his mouth to disagree with her, but a simple raise of her eyebrows stops him. “No, I wouldn’t be ok. But we have no other choice.”

“I don’t like it.” She repeats, defeat making her voice shake slightly.

Aaron turns to look out of the window of the office they are in, and when the coast is still clear he grabs her hand, running his thumb back and forth over her wrist. “It will be fine, sweetheart.”

Emily nods, the protest that he doesn’t know everything would be fine dying in her throat. All she could do was sit back and watch as he put himself at risk. Her love for him stuffed into a box in her head where no one else could see it, the privilege JJ had of breaking down publicly when Will was in the bank not afforded to her. She squeezes his hand back, and wishes more than anything that she could kiss him.

“If anything happens to you, even just a scratch, I’m teaching Spencer just enough Italian to piss Dave off.”

That makes him laugh, a brief flash of his dimples settling her nerves in her stomach. “I would expect nothing less.”

“We should get back.” Emily says, extracting her hand from his. She grasps the lapels of his jacket. “And you’re right, you need to change. You look like a fed.” ____________

Emily keeps staring at the monitor, the CCTV from the bar displayed for the team to watch in the back room they were in. She keeps her eyes on Aaron, her thumbnail in between her teeth, as they waited for any sign that the unsubs were around. That someone besides them was watching him.

“You ok there, princess?” Derek asks, drawing her attention towards him. He is eyeing her curiously. “Worried about the boss?”

She can feel Dave and JJ’s eyes on her too, she pulls her thumb out of her mouth and clears her throat. “I’m just not comfortable with this idea.”

“And why is that? Hotch can hold his own.” He replies, an edge to his voice she doesn’t like.

“It’s because Emily and Hotch are sleeping together.” Spencer says without looking away from the monitors, his eyes still on Aaron.

“What?” Derek asks, snapping his head in Spencer’s direction.

“How the hell did you know, Reid?” Emily says, turning to Spencer. She always figured that it would be Dave who would have figured it out. His meddling tendencies well known.

Spencer turns to look at her, taking his attention off of the CCTV footage. “You’re both happier but trying to hide it. Jack said your name 9 times the last time we were all together, indicating that he is spending more time with you in a personal capacity, and you and Hotch both came to work this morning smelling of the same soap.” He explains, Emily’s blush deepening as he spoke. “Not to mention I saw you kissing in the parking garage last month.”

“You’ve known for a month?” JJ says, smacking his shoulder lightly. “Why didn’t you say anything?

Spencer shrugs, looking back at Emily. “I figured they weren’t telling us for a reason.”

“You are a terrible gossip.” Dave says before looking back at Emily. “So how long has this been going on?”

Emily sighs and rolls her eyes, wishing that this wasn’t happening now of all times, that she could at least have Aaron with her for back up.

“6 months.”

“6 months.”

She says at the same time as Spencer. She looks at him again, unable to cover her surprise at the fact he had apparently known all along.

“6 months?” Derek exclaims, genuine surprise on his face. “Why did you keep it from us that long?”

“Guys.” Spencer says, trying to interrupt the conversation but failing.

“We just did, ok?” She says, crossing her arms across her chest. “We were going to tell you.”

“Guys.” Spencer says again, firmer this time interrupting whatever Derek was about to say. They all look at him, varying degrees of annoyance on their faces. “Where is Hotch?”

Emily felt like ice water had been poured over her, fear flooding her veins as her head snapped back towards the screens. Her eyes flicked across each image displayed and she couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Derek.” She chokes out, her voice not quite sounding like her own.

“Shit.” Derek exclaimed, already striding out of the room, Emily and the rest of the team on his heels. ____________

They find him in the alley behind the bar, two men holding him down as they punch him, one of them managing to kick his ribs. There’s no time to figure it out, no time to wonder how the hell they got Aaron out of the bar in the two minutes they had been distracted.

“FBI.” Derek yells, his gun drawn and pointing at them, local cops right behind him with their guns raised too. The unsubs try to make a break for it, but don’t manage it. Derek being a little too hard with the takedown of one of them.

Emily doesn’t even think about what she does as soon as they are apprehended. She’s naturally drawn to Aaron’s side, helping him sit up.

“What the hell happened?” She asks, wincing as she takes in the blood on his face. His nose was bleeding, and his left eye was already bruising. She cups his face in her hands, thumbs gently moving over tender flesh.

He tries to shy away from her touch, his eyes on JJ and Spencer standing behind her. She turns to look at them and raises an eyebrow, both of them averting their gazes. She turns back to look at Aaron, a shy smile on her face.

“Everyone knows.”

He furrows his brow at her. “How?”

“That’s not important right now.” She says, cupping his face, wiping some of the blood that had gathered at the bottom of his nose away with her sleeve. “What happened? We had our eyes off of you for two minutes and you were gone.”

“I spotted them, they fit the partial profile we had.” He explains, as if it was obvious. “So I followed them.”

“What were you thinking?” She exclaims, smacking him in the shoulder, hard, before grabbing his face again and kissing him. “That was so stupid, Aaron.” She kisses him again.

Emily wraps her arms around him tightly, pulling him into a hug that makes him wince. She lets go instantly, her hands on his shoulders as she looks him over for any other obvious injuries.

“Shit, sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m ok.” He gets out, his face screwed up in pain despite his attempt at assuring her. “They just got a few good kicks to my ribs.”

She looks around, sees a paramedic standing back waiting for the scene to be cleared. “We need to get you looked at.”

“Em, I’m fine.” He protests, his breathlessness at the act of standing up giving him away as he pushes himself up off the ground.

She glares at him. “You are not fine, Aaron. You just had the shit kicked out of you by two men who wanted to kill you.” She holds his hand, links her fingers through his and gently tugs him towards where the ambulance is parked. “Let the nice paramedic look at you before I kill you myself.” ____________

He needed to get x-rays done. The paramedic was concerned that his ribs could be broken, and therefore insisted he went to the hospital to get checked out. Aaron tried to talk him out of it. He’d had broken ribs before, and claimed he knew how to handle them, but then he had looked at Emily’s face, how concerned she was, and he stopped resisting.

Emily was sitting nervously next to the gurney he was on whilst they waited for the results of the scans he had on arrival.

“Em.” Aaron says, making her look up at him from the spot she was staring at on the floor. “I’m ok.”

“You’re ok because we found you when we did.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “If we’d been only a couple minutes later…”

“But you weren’t.” He reaches out for her hand and she accepts it, fiercely holding his one hand between both of hers. “I’m ok.” He repeats, pulling their joint hands to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles.

“I love you.” She says, a sad smile on her face as she has to stop herself from looking at the dried blood on his shirt, or at how his eye was now swollen shut. She interrupts him before he can reciprocate, repeat the words back to her that they had only said out loud for the first time a few weeks ago, even though their actions had shown it long before. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger today.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Aaron.” She says, moving so she was sat on the edge of the gurney. She leans down and presses her forehead to his, not caring how ridiculous she would look to anyone who walked in. Her FBI bullet proof vest is still on over her sweater, her gun on her hip. “You can’t do that.” She pulls back to look at him. “You can’t, ok?”

“Em, our jobs are dangerous.”

“I know that.” She replies through slightly gritted teeth. “We both have scars to prove it. But today didn’t need to happen.”

“It was a measured risk.”

“A measured risk that could have cost me you.” She says, her voice finally wavering. “I can’t lose you.” He opens his mouth to talk but she presses a finger to his lips. “And you can’t say that I won’t, love. We both know you can’t promise that. But you don’t have to offer yourself up to unsubs like a lamb to slaughter, ok?”

He clearly disagrees with her, she can see it written all over his face, and on some level she knows she isn’t being reasonable. That the emotion of the day is clouding her judgement, in a way she usually wouldn’t let it. He nods though, presses a kiss to the finger still against his lips and it makes her laugh.

“Ok.” ____________

He has three fractured ribs and several bruised ones. He initially refuses painkillers but Emily convinces him to take them, memories of how painful take off on the jet had been after her beating at the hands of Cyrus all those years ago.

Aaron falls asleep against her. He is sitting slightly slumped in his seat, his head leaning on her shoulder. His breath makes her hair tickle against her neck and it calms her, reminds her that he was still there, that he was still alive.

Emily looks up from her paperwork to the sound of a throat clearing, and she sees Derek sliding into the chair opposite her, a curious look on his face. The team had met them back at the jet. Dave explained that the unsubs were brothers, finding men who reminded them of their father who had all but drank himself to death in that very bar when they were young. It seemed so banal, so stereotypical to Emily it infuriated her.

The team clearly had questions about what they had discovered about her and Aaron, but they were silent about it. Emily wondered how long that would last, if they would at least wait until Aaron could see out of his left eye again before they started asking about their relationship.

“Can the Spanish inquisition wait at least until tomorrow, Derek? I’m tired.” She asks, a quirk to her smile.

He holds his hands up, mock surrender on his face. “I’ll leave it for now, Princess. But if you think for one second that our beloved technical analyst will do the same, you are kidding yourself.”

Emily laughs at that, before groaning. “She’s going to be delighted.” She says, looking briefly at Aaron before looking back at Derek. “She’s been trying to tell me to give this a chance for years.”

“Really?” Derek asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Oh yeah.” She replies, a smile on her face. “It’s a common topic on ladies night.”

Derek smiles and looks at her curiously. “You love him?”

Emily bites her lip “Yeah.” She nods. “I love him.”

“I’m happy for you, Emily. For both of you.” He stands, heads back to where he had been trying to nap before he had walked over, but he turns back to her. “You owe us all dinner. Somewhere fancy.”

Emily barks out a laugh, briefly disturbing Aaron from his slumber on her shoulder. “Whatever you say, Morgan.” _______________

She takes him back to her place. It was too late to get Jack from Jessica’s, and she figured he’d want some time to prepare his son for his injuries anyway.

He’s pretty out of it from the pain and the medication, but she gets him into her bed, managing to get him down to just his briefs and under her covers. She quickly gets ready for bed herself, forgoing her usual skincare routine with just a swipe of a makeup wipe over her face.

She climbs into bed next to him, careful to put more distance between the two of them than she usually would. She turns the lamp off and settles into her pillows, ready to try and get some sleep.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” He asks, his words thick with sleep.

Emily rolls onto her side and reaches out for him, stroking her fingers over his shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You never could.”

Emily suppresses a smile in the darkness. His inhibitions were always lowered at night in one of their bedrooms, his affection for her blowing over her like a warm breeze. “Baby, you have broken ribs.”

“Come here.” He reaches out for her and she moves towards him, not wanting him to hurt himself any further by dragging her across the bed. He shifts, grimacing as he does, and rests his head on her shoulder. “That’s better.”

She laughs. “We can’t sleep like this. It won’t do either of our backs any good.”

“Just 5 minutes.”

“Ok, honey.” She says, kissing the top of his head. “5 minutes.”

“Love you, Emily.”

“I love you, too.”

[v-hope]

Comfort, 7:48PM — Tiger Flower

“You’re feeling better?” you wondered, placing your phone down on the couch the two of you were sitting down on. “Or did you only smile for the picture?”

Jeongguk snorted, shaking his head in amusement. After only a few minutes in your company, it was fair to say he was no longer feeling miserable like he had been the night before and a good part of that same day. It was funny, actually, how your presence alone could have such effect on him and his mood.

“I’m better”.

Staring at him for a few seconds to try and see whether he was lying or not, you finally gave it up, nodding your head as you decided to just believe him.

“May I ask what were you so upset about though?” you asked softly, afraid of bringing up a touchy topic.

And just like that, his semblance became serious once again, remaining silent and answering your question with a simple shrug before he leaned his back against the couch.

What else was he supposed to do? Open his mouth and go ‘I was just heartbroken at the idea of you and my hyung being together for real?’. Yeah, that was most definitely not happening.

“So… how did things go yesterday?” he questioned a couple of seconds later, not needing to mention Taehyung for you to understand what he was talking about.

“It was fun” you kept it simple. “Why? You wanna know the details?”

Although you had said that in a cheery, teasing tone, Jeongguk didn’t seem as eager when he shook his head no — being conflicted still between wanting to know and not wanting to at all.

“Was it a date?” he managed to ask anyway, voice barely audible and eyes fixing somewhere else.

“Huh?”

“Yesterday… with hyung” he elaborated, this time speaking louder, trying his best for his voice not to betray him and show just how scared he was of your possible answer to what he wanted to ask. “And now today as well…” his eyes focused on you. “Are you guys together?”

There it was again. That same feeling you had felt the day before when he asked about you and Taehyung going on a date. Guilt.

“N-No… we’re not” although your answer sounded nervous, it was enough for him to feel like he could breathe again. “And about the date, I mean… I don’t, I don’t know…” you lowered your head, looking to your hands on your lap as you fidgeted whilst trying to find the right words. “He would’ve called it a date if it was, right?”

“He would?” Jeongguk wondered.

“Isn’t that what people do?” you answered with another question. “When you’ve asked girls out on dates you’ve called them that, haven’t you?”

“Wouldn’t know” he shrugged.

Your eyes fixed on him attentively. “What do you mean you wouldn’t know?”

He shrugged once more, like it didn’t really matter. “I’ve never asked anyone on a date... or even been on one for that matter”.

You froze. “You’re joking, right?”

“Is it really that hard to believe?” he let out a small, breathy laugh.

“Yeah” you answered in a heartbeat — the confidence you had expressed yourself with causing his cheeks to flush.

“I haven’t” he confirmed.

“Why not?” you couldn’t help but pry, at which he just shrugged once again in response.

In all honesty, you couldn’t believe he had never gone on a date. Sure, he had never mentioned anything regarding the topic to you, but he was a quiet person to begin with, you thought he just wasn’t the type to talk about his love life. Never would it have crossed your mind that a guy as great as him had nothing really going on there.

Silence had suddenly filled the room, and although for some reason your heart felt kind of uneasy at what you were about to propose, you went on.

“There’s so many girls on campus I know for a fact would love going out with you, maybe if you—”

“I’m not interested in any of them, petal” he cut you off, fixing his eyes on yours — both of you missing the way they were begging for you to understand.

To please understand he was not interested in anyone who wasn’t you.

“Oh…” you frowned, this time feeling a small twinge in your heart at the thought that had just invaded your mind. “You’re… interested in someone else already then?”

He shrugged. “There’s kinda only one person who’s ever managed to really catch my attention, so...”

You lowered your head, nodding faintly before you, almost inaudibly, mumbled. “Mhm… Sooyeon”

“What?” his head snapped in your direction when he did not get what you had said right then.

“Sucks,” you spoke louder this time, correcting yourself and hoping he’d fall for it. “It must really suck… not having anyone else catch your eye anymore” the corners of your mouth curved slightly up in a rather weak smile. “She must’ve been really great to manage to cause such an impression”.

A breathy laugh escaped his throat, staring down to his fidgeting fingers. “Yeah… she is”.

“You could still try and throw yourself out there, though…” you shrugged. “Who knows, you could end up falling for someone else eventually”.

And it was at that exact moment, when your own advice left your mouth and you could no longer ignore that annoying uneasy feeling you got in your chest every time you brought up the idea of Guk with someone else, that you realised it might not have been only irrational guilt what you had felt the day before when you went out with Taehyung.

Unaware of what was going through your mind, Jeongguk shrugged. The problem to your proposition was, he didn’t want to fall for someone else, he just wanted you.

“Going on dates is not really my thing” he stated, looking for an excuse yet also speaking what to him was the truth. “I’m too quiet most of the time and also awkward as h—”

“Yah, stop that” you cut him off before he could even begin.

“Stop what?” he pouted out of confusion.

“Putting yourself down” you explained. “You’re always doing that and I hate it”.

“It’s true though…”

Letting out a heavy sigh, you turned to him, sitting cross-legged on the couch so you could properly look at him. “Okay, yes. You are quiet as hell most of the time, yes. You can be a little awkward sometimes, yes. So what. That only makes you so fucking endearing” your words made his face burn — eyes searching in yours for any kind of a joke being displayed on them. “Seriously, Guk,” you reassured him once you got what he was doing. “You are so amazing. Anyone would be lucky to be with you, how can you not see it?”

“You only think that because you know me too well by now...”

“Exactly! It’s exactly because I know you that I’m saying this” you pointed out rather exasperatedly, cupping his face in your hands when his eyes travelled somewhere else not to meet yours. “No, you look at me when I say this because I mean it,” that had him looking at you in a second. “Bun, you truly have it all. You are funny, sweet, smart, talented as hell, cute and hot at the same time, which is really hard to find may I add, and it fucking sucks so much to hear you put yourself down all the time, when you have literally nothing to worry about because you could really get anyone you want if you were just confident enough to go for it”.

Silence filled the room once again, for you had ran out of words and Jeongguk was too busy trying both to process all the compliments you had just given him and calm his eager heart that was beating in such a way he couldn’t recall having ever felt before in his life.

“You think I’m hot?”

That question alone coming from his pouty lips was enough to have you throwing your head back as a loud laugh escaped your throat. “Of course out of everything I said that was the only thing you heard”.

Jeongguk laughed as well, nervously, breathily, as he couldn’t help but get shy at that particular trait having been indeed the only thing his mind had apparently registered right then.

Feeling your hands loosen their hold on his face, he was quick to prevent it — his hands gently grabbing your wrists to keep them in place, earning a smile from you as his thumbs started tenderly drawing circles on your skin.

“You mean it then?” his voice came out low.

“That you’re hot?” you couldn’t help but tease, with a light laugh following right after.

He shook his head in amusement, another chuckle leaving his mouth. “Everything you said,” he clarified. “And that if I was confident enough… you know…”

You nodded in a heartbeat. “I do mean everything I said,” he smiled at the way you had ever so sweetly said those words, enjoying the way your thumbs were gently caressing the sides of his face. “You could really get anyone you want, bun”.

Then again, he only wanted you. But he wouldn’t dare to tell you that. Not right then.

However, although he didn’t find himself capable of telling you so, his instincts told him otherwise. Without even realizing, his face started leaning in —much to his surprise, right as you started leaning in as well—, until your breathings mixed and your lips faintly brushed; eyes staring at them for a couple of seconds, as a part of you both was still hesitant to close the short space between your mouths.

And although neither of you really wanted to stop yourselves, it was that brief moment of hesitation the one that ended up turning out against you.

For had you not hesitated, you would’ve managed to feel each other’s lips for at least five seconds before the front door opened.

Jeongguk and you jolted up, nervously pulling away and trying to ignore what had almost just happened, as Namjoon and Areum, the girl he had been going out with for the last month, stood there staring at you.

“Hey” Namjoon greeted quite absently, still trying to process what he had just walked in —or almost walked in— on.

“H-Hey,” you were the one to nervously greet back, standing up and rushedly looking for your phone. “I was just about to leave”.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk rushed up as well. “I’m walking her home” he announced; just like you, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Jeongguk-ah” Areum raised one of her eyebrows teasingly.

“Noona,” he greeted her with a polite bow before he went to your side. “I, I don’t. I mean, we’re not—”

A couple.

“Yeah,” you reassured her as well once you grabbed your phone. “We’re just—”

Friends.

Yet, for some reason, neither of you were able to bring yourselves to finish those sentences.

Not wanting to deal with that anymore, you just walked over the door Namjoon was still holding open, being followed by Jeongguk right after he grabbed the jacket you were forgetting on the couch.

Standing in front of them both for a second, you gave them a small smile to say goodbye. “I’ll just—”

“Here,” Jeongguk blurted out as he placed your jacket on your shoulders, keeping his warm hands on them as he helped you out. “I’ll be right back” he informed Joon.

Watching the two of you rush out of the apartment and down the hallway, Namjoon sighed, finally closing the door behind him.

“Are they sure they’re not a couple?” Areum asked in disbelief at the scene she had just presenced.

He shrugged, not really knowing what to believe at this point. “I’m not sure anymore”.

[erismerald]

𝑰 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 (Jacob Frye x reader) 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 2

Hello creed, I bring you here the second chapter of my Jacob Frye fanfic, I hope you like it and maybe I would like to remind you that my requests are always open in case someone is interested!

Without further ado, stay safe, and happy reading!

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 1

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Fluff and a bit of teasing ;)

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3953

𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝟏𝟖𝟔𝟖

Your head hurt a little, and your vision was blurred, you felt moving but you were still, you looked around, the environment you were in was different from the wet and scary street, with a little more effort, you tried to look for details that would help you identify where you were, you were on a train. ... but how? the room you were in was well decorated, you knew that style well, your nanny was doing her best to decorate every part of the house with the rustic and elegant theme of the Victorian era, so none of that had been a dream?

You sat up in bed, feeling your body weakened, you took a deep breath and gained strength to pull yourself together, the clothes you were wearing were different, it was a nightgown, made of cotton, all black with gold details on the sleeves, after all you had really traveled in time. ... but how was that possible, one moment you were with your friends and the next you were alone in the world, flash all the memories of last night had burst into your mind, the dark street, the rain... the man who tried to abuse you, and your savior, who was he? was it him that brought you here? doubts hovered empty in your consciousness, you looked at your wrists small black marks tinged your skin, you felt pain when the palm of your fingers ventured to touch them, without realizing it you let out a 'auch', you couldn't control the fear you felt, you were alone. You wanted your grandmother by your side to calm you down, you grabbed your knees and pulled them up to your chest, and laid your head down lightly letting the tears run down your face, feeling them fall on your hands, you felt small, you felt abandoned.

Suddenly the bedroom door opened revealing a woman, still quite young she must have been in her early twenties, she smiled sweetly at you, no matter how hard you tried to hide under the blanket, that smile warmed your heart and made you smile back.

"I see you're awake at last" She approached with a tray of food that she set down on top of the couch where you were lying "My name is-" she was interrupted by a man, you recognized him, he had been the one to save you, your heart pounded hard when your gaze met.

"Ahhh finally, I'll be able to sleep in my room again" he laughed sitting down in the armchair opposite you, you bowed your head in shame

"Jacob! The girl just woke up, and you're already being a real jerk, I can't believe you're my brother sometimes" The girl said turning her attention back to you " Dear ignore him, he's just a jerk, how do you feel?"

"I... I'm confused just... I feel sick and hot" your voice came out shaky, you were nervous.

"It's because of the fever the doctor said you would feel like this for a few days, but that you would be fine, what's your name?" The girl asked meekly, sitting down in front of you, your gaze shifted a little to the man sitting in front of you, he seemed asleep.

"M-my name is Y/n L/n" again your voice betrayed you, as you said your name the girl looked shocked but interested in you.

"Your family is a great help to our brotherhood, it is an honor to have you here with us!" The girl said with a gentle smile kissing her lips, a feeling of hope embraced your body, would there still be a way back home? But in a flash, you recalled what she had said.

"M-my family? how do you know them?" you asked pulling your body forward-facing the two people sitting in front of you.

"The L/N family has always been a great help in training young assassins" Assassins? What? you didn't want to believe what you heard, all the memories were joining the truth about your family, the story your grandmother told you and you preferred not to believe was really true? It wasn't possible, but why now? why now that you had decided to find out who you were? Why now that you have finally traveled to London? And who were the people in front of you? The girl stood up and stretched her hand towards you "My name is Evie Frye, and that idiot over there is my twin brother Jacob Frye" the words that came out of her lips were like glass tearing your mind, you felt dizzy as if you couldn't breathe right, was all that true? Wasn't it possible? Was it? But how did you end up in their time? Was your grandmother right, weren't they just children's stories?

"How is it possible?" you whispered, both brothers looked at you curiously, " No, it can't be real, I must be dreaming... "Your gaze was fixed on your hands resting on the thin cloth that covered your body, crystal clear tears came out of your eyes, Evie seeing your reaction to finding out who they were hugged your body and pulled you in, you hid your face to her shoulder, letting the sadness leave your heart.

A few minutes passed, but it seemed like hours, your body was still weak from crying, in 18 years of life you had never cried so much, you took a deep breath, hugging Evie's body tightly.

"I know very well who you are" you finally said, Evie knelt down beside the sofa looking puzzled at you.

"How do you know us, love?" Jacob said getting up from the armchair and staring at you, he was much taller than you, and you felt a little embarrassed to feel his gaze fixed on yours, in one small movement you looked away from Evie, you took a deep breath and gathered your courage to expose your whole story.

"My name is Y/n L/n but I am not from here... in fact until a few minutes ago I believed that you two were part of the stories my grandmother used to tell me when I was younger... "I know well who my family is, I just didn't know their true position in this brotherhood, my grandmother used to tell me stories of the Frye twins and the adventures of the assassins to free London from the grasp of the Templars, but I always believed that you were a lie, I am not from here, nor from this time and I honestly don't know how I got here," you said between sobs, raising one of your hands to your face wiping the tears that were falling "I don't even know why I came here, for one second I was in 2020 and the next I traveled back in time to here. .. BUT I DON'T KNOW WHY! I WAS JUST TRYING TO FIND OUT WHO I WAS, WHY DID I HAVE TO VISIT LONDON AND IGNORE ALL THE WARNINGS MY GRANDMOTHER GAVE ME? WHY DID SHE LET ME COME? DID SHE KNOW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?" Your crying turned into anger, you felt like your body was going to collapse, you felt dizzy, everything was becoming blurry but something broke your fall and held you tight, with the tremendous effort you looked up to see what had happened, the next thing you knew you were in Jacob's arms, he protected you from falling or passing out, you wanted to talk but all you could say was 'ahh' or 'I...'.

"Okay love I know it's a lot to process but you're not alone here, you have us now, we'll take care of you," Jacob said stroking your hair and holding you close to his body, the beating of his heart helped you calm down. "Now what do you mean 2020? We can tell you're not from here but did this happen? Evie?" Jacob called his sister's name they both looked at each other, and after a few seconds, Evie had an idea.

"Let's wait for you to recover so you can tell us everything straight so we can understand what's going on, but..." Evie stopped sighing "Until you can get back home we have to make you unnoticed, we have to make you mix with the people of our time, only then you will be safe, and since your family is a big influence here in London we can visit them and try to ask for help, what do you think?" Evie smiled at you and you smiled back, you felt your eyes grow tired, and without much effort, you fell asleep.

Your eyes opened slowly, it was hard to sleep with the storm of thoughts that rambled through your mind, occupying every neuron, it was still night, you looked at the clock on the desk, it was 4 am, still so early and you were already so awake, you couldn't deny that you felt anxious and nervous with what was happening, Your body moved from side to side on the sofa where you slept, the rain hit the glass loudly, the sound of the wheels on the rails, the wind whistled lulling your body, but you couldn't sleep anymore, the stress, the fear, the frustration of not being home, it was agonizing, you stared at the ceiling, thinking, those memories were still very fresh in your mind, it would take a while to accept.

With a little effort you pushed your body up, sitting down and crossing your legs, the window above your head was splashed with raindrops that slid with speed, the landscape was beautiful, the city lights in the background made your heart beat faster, Even in another epoch London was still London, still a beautiful, attractive city, without you realizing it, a weak smile broke out on your lips, it was ironic that you wanted to visit a place so much and when you did it was as if it vanished through your fingers.

You observed the room and noticed your bag lying on the side of the sofa, with one hand you pulled yourself towards you and took out your drawing notebook, you appreciated the picture sticked on the leather cover, it was your grandfather who had made it, he made a dozen of them just for you, every time the pages of one finished, another one came on the scene, with canvas for more adventures and emotions, since you were very young that writing and drawing were a way to represent your emotions and represent the world you lived in.

With a few gestures you let your hand flow across the white page, drawing and sketching empty emotions but full of comfort, looking on the bright side, when you return you will always have something to show your grandmother, a memory, the sound of the pencil scratching the sheet of paper, soothed your heart so full of bitterness, 'so this is what it's like to discover who I am? Is this what you wanted me to see grandma?' you thought to yourself, is this the destiny that was destined for you?

You sighed and let your hand fall on your thigh, you looked forward, and saw Jacob's coat resting on the back of the armchair in front of you, a wave of warmth and embarrassment invaded your chest, you felt strange every time you thought about him, he was mysterious but gentle and protective, when you felt his body wrap around yours it seemed that they had connected to each other, and all the negative energies and scary thoughts disappeared, your heartbeat as he did, your breath calmed down as you felt his fingers tangle in your hair to comfort you, without a second thought, you began to draw his face on that once white page, you remembered every detail of his face, the two scars, his unshaven beard, his hazel eyes, his lips. ... he was an attractive man, you would never in your life think of meeting him, but now that you know him, he was something you didn't want to forget, you put the notebook against your chest and smiled like a little child, feeling butterflies playing with your belly.

But something interrupted the moment, that moment when you were no longer present on earth, you were lost, hidden in a world of thoughts:

" Rough night?" A voice coming from behind you, scared every inch of your body, you put your hand on your chest letting the notebook fall to the floor, you recognized the owner behind that hoarse and funny voice, Jacob laughed a little "I didn't want to scare you, love, I just came to check if you were okay and since I saw you were awake I decided to come in" Jacob said sitting next to you, his gaze crossed with yours. "How are you feeling?"

"I-im okay, and don't worry you didn't scare me, I was just lost in my thoughts and didn't even see you coming...." you replied shakily, like a leaf in the middle of a storm, his smile was directed at you, you could feel your face getting warm, it was obvious you were nervous, but why?

Jacob sat in the armchair in front of you, he looked tired, but more importantly, he was completely flushed, your gaze was fixed on his body, his hair was dripping, his breathing was racing, your heart was beating unregulated as if you were in a sprint, your breathing became heavy for a few moments.

"Do you like what you see love?" Jacob teased, bending his body forward, you jumped a little when hearing his voice, and quickly looked the other way, the rain was still beating strongly on the window, but the train had stopped, maybe because of the bad weather? "I was just messing with you, I just came from a mission, and well... since you are sleeping in my room and my stuff is here, I came straight to you." He laughed a little, his laugh was wonderful.

Even not looking directly at him you could feel his smile, unbelievably you were feeling calm again, your breathing was quiet, but you felt Jacob's gaze on your body, something captivated him about you, but he still couldn't know what it was, maybe because you were exotic? Because you were new to him, his gaze was fixed on your neck, the necklace that belonged to him was now adorning your neck.

"I wanted to thank you, Mister Frye, thank you for saving me from that... you know, I wanted to thank you earlier but, I've been busy with my mind-" Suddenly you felt his fingers slip up your neck to your jawline turning your face to face his, his curious gaze was focused on the necklace, he smiled.

"How funny I have a necklace just like that hanging around my neck, matching aren't we" Again his laughter filled the room, you couldn't contain yourself, and a small giggle broke out from your lips "Oh you do laugh too, you have a very adorable laugh" Your face flared, a pink color graced your cheeks as you heard his voice, he was so close. ... his scent intoxicated you, as if you were drunk on his scent alone, you felt your eyes getting heavier, but something woke you up, a fallen drop of Jacob's hair fell on your cheek.

"Shouldn't you take off your wet clothes, or at least dry yourself? Mister Frye you might catch a cold" the words escaped from your lips, the concern was explicit on your face, Jacob found it adorable, but he laughed a little, confused you looked at him pouting, you were just trying to help and he still laughed.

"Darling, my clothes are all here and if you haven't noticed, you're here, it would be inappropriate to undress in front of such a delicate lady, besides I'm used to it, after missions I usually go to some pub to celebrate with my rooks but Evie asked me to keep an eye on you, and I didn't want to leave you alone either," Jacob said sitting back in the chair.

You blushed but nodded, he was right, it wouldn't be appropriate, but something wandered in your mind, he didn't want to leave you alone? Jacob's watchful eyes noticed your notebook lying on the floor, he reached out to pick it up, you felt a wave of embarrassment and shame hit you like a stone, no, a bunch of them.

His fingers slid across the pages looking at the drawings, especially the one you had done the day you arrived in London, he looked like a child watching a cartoon on TV, he was mesmerized.

"Ahm Mister Frye, may I ask you something?" you asked as he looked at your notebook, he nodded without saying a word. "What was this mission you went on?" his gaze was still focused on the drawings, but he took a deep breath and answered finally.

"Y/n you know what an Assassin does right?" He asked, you nodded, waiting for his answer to continue "I was assigned to kill templars and free London from the disgusting and profiteering clutches of theme, today I helped rescue some of my rooks who were taken hostage in the middle of one of their rounds when they warned me,

I ran immediately to save them, they are like a family

family, and I as their leader have to help and protect them.

His words were like melodies, he sounded just like the way your vein described, ruthless, brave, gentle and playful, fearless, you smiled, was it possible for a man like that to be true? Was it even possible that your childhood hero was right there in front of you watching your drawings? Was it really true that after many years of hearing about him, you were having a conversation with him? You felt so confident that for a few minutes you forgot that you were stuck in 1800.

"You are really brave Jacob..." Finally, you said, slowly removing the necklace from your neck and holding it between your fingers, circling it from side to side. "You know I spent years adoring you... wanting to be like you and Evie, my grandmother spent years telling me about your adventures, I remember when I was younger and climbing up on the roof, jumping from window to window pretending to be you, pretending to be with you, and well. ... years later here I am in front of you, talking to my idol, and I still don't know how to react to this situation" You laughed a little sarcastically. You were nervous but you knew you could trust him, when you looked ahead again his gaze went through every detail of the drawing you had made of him, he seemed excited.

"I thank you Y/n, for idolizing me when you were younger, it must come as a shock to you, finally meeting me hum?" He said with a tinny smirk on his lips.

"W-well it is but I think you can even exceed my expectations Mister Frye" You laughed nervously, you tried to avoid looking at him, you were afraid you wouldn't know how to react.

"How do you feel about your family belonging to the brotherhood?" He questioned you as he put your notebook down on the desk next to him, you sighed, honestly you didn't even know what to say, or what to think about it, of course, you knew for many years that your family came from a long line of assassins but, you preferred to believe that it was a lie or just another story invented by your grandmother to entertain your creative mind during the most starry nights, you never imagined that they were real, and you still thought that taking someone's life for the sake of a brotherhood or to protect others was wrong, and you didn't want to be associated with that, so you forgot that story, and went on with your life, but now that you knew that they were real, you were a little afraid to confront them.

"I... honestly I don't know how to answer you, when I was younger, I heard the stories told by my grandmother over and over again, but I never thought that they were real, and even when she talked about the brotherhood I... preferred to ignore it, in my view, it isn't right to kill someone, I thought that the assassins were cruel monsters who had no feelings, so I never really wanted to know that part of the story, but I confess that I am afraid to confront them tomorrow..." Jacob seemed to understand what you were feeling his eyes were downcast, you could hear his heavy breathing, you felt a little worried, would you said something wrong, but something surprised you when his gaze met yours you could see a little fear and sadness in his gaze.

"Do you think I'm a monster?" Jacob asked getting up and walking towards you again, you felt your body harden like a stone, your heart was beating uncontrollably, you couldn't think of anything to answer him, he knelt in front of you, still with his gaze fixed on yours, you couldn't even think, he was very close to you, his hand wrapped around yours and took the necklace you were holding between your fingers "Your grandmother gave you this didn't she? and by some fluke of life you came right to me... tell me Y/n even after I saved you, do you think I'm a monster?" His voice was husky, his touch made you sensitive, his smell made you dizzy, you are hypnotized.

"N-no, I don't think you're a monster, I... just didn't know much about.... I... and by some fluke of life you came right to me... tell me Y/n even after I saved you, do you think I'm a monster?" His voice was husky, his touch made you sensitive, his smell made you dizzy, you are hypnotized.

"N-no, I don't think you're a monster, I... just didn't know much about.... I..." Jacob's hand moved closer to your neck his fingers slid across your skin easily, you sighed deeply as you felt his skin in contact with yours, Jacob smiled, it was funny to see your submissive reaction to him, with a small gesture, he placed the necklace around your neck, caressing the back of it, but before he left, his breath-focused on your ear and with a whisper, he made your world crumble.

"Don't take this necklace off, so I'll always know why you're here"

He stood up and grabbed his coat, you were completely paralyzed, you were blushing, your breathing was heavy and panting, your gaze seemed glazed on him, he smiled and walked towards the door, but before disappearing into the darkness his voice echoed once again in the room "you better get some more rest Love tomorrow we have a long day, it was nice talking to you miss L/n". And with that he left you there alone, your heart pounding, panting, and nervous, your only thought was his voice softly caressing your ear.

You let your body fall back, staring at the window, and the rain sliding on it, you didn't realize that the train was moving again, you just let your mind wander, what would have happened if he stayed here?

Feelings and thoughts left you awake for the rest of the night, before you knew it the birds were already singing, the first rays of sunlight illuminated your smiling face.

[amusedyan]

Monthly Meetings

A Peaky Blinders commission!

Words: 2k

Once a month there was a meeting. It was something dreaded by both parties, but one that was necessary- it was neutral territory, where mutual suggestions were discussed, grievances were gone over and business settled. No one officially came armed- but that was never written into the deal. Just like it wasn’t discussed that both parties came with a small coterie of their most trusted, each eyeing the other and waiting for a twitchy trigger finger.

Tommy Shelby was never on time to any meeting.

He came early when he was the one to suggest it- to get the drop on the other person, to make an impression. You waste my time, and you have no right to ask anything of me, was the goal there. When told to meet someone, he always made it a point to arrive 5 minutes late, because you aren’t worth my time.

This meant that meeting Alfie Solomons put him in an uncomfortable position- he had to come on time. And sometimes Alfie was there already, smug, or sometimes Alfie was late and dismissive about it, but with a stack of papers and grievances to make up the difference.

Tommy was continually unimpressed with the Jewish mobster, though you could color him surprised when word got out through the grapevine that Alfie Solomon had started going steady with some bird from the local flower shop.

He’d never figure him to be one to settle down, but those same rumors claimed that he ws continually trailing after her. Considering how…temperamental his associate could be, Tommy could believe it.

When Alfie actually entered the restaurant, Tommy reflected that the rumors must be true because the man was practically glowing. More importantly though, his usual stack of gripes was noticeably absent.

“Tommy-boy!” The man grunted, taking his seat at the table. There was already whiskey poured- courtesy of Tommy, of course.

“Alfie,” Tommy greeted, watching the man settle.

It was such a waste of his time to come here, and it took active work not to lose his temper about it. He could be home now

“So, to business. Would you like to begin?” Tommy offered magnanimously.

Alfie drank from his glass and winced at the taste. “Shit, that is,” he mused, shaking his head. “How’ve you been, Tommy? How’s life treated you?”

Suspicion colored Tommy’s thoughts. What was Solomons up to? Small talk wasn’t part of the meeting, ever. As if reading his thoughts, Alfie chuckled. “Don’t be like that, Shelby. I’ve been advised to try diplomacy.”

“By your new conquest?” Tommy countered. The expression on Alfie’s face closed off, and no longer was he looking at a man blatantly in love and feeling charitable to the whole world for it. It made things much easier to deal with. But a moment later, a sly smile crept across Alfie Solomon’s face, and Tommy wasn’t much fond of that expression.

“You’d know all about conquests, wouldn’t you, Tom?” Alfie folded his hands across his midsection and leaned back against his seat, leveling Tommy with a look just as cold.

Fury unfolded, and beside that, fear. What did that mean? Who had talked?

Chuckling, Alfie waved it off. “Now, there’s no need for that look, my good man. There’s been whispers, same as there have been for me. About a pretty girl. What’s her name?”

“We aren’t here to discuss women, Alfie.” Tommy said flatly, trying not to growl. From the corner of his eye, he could see Finn watching intently. He was waiting for a signal. No, he needed to reign it in.

Alfie was just intent on pushing his buttons though, grinning broadly, damn near leering at Tommy. “Well, her name’s Margaret.” His finger drummed against the glass, the ring he was wearing clinking methodically. “I doubt her name’s in your network, yeah? Every fucking thing else, but not that.” He shook his head. “Beautiful name.” And there was that lovesick look again.

“Is that all?” Tommy asked. What would it take to get the meeting back on track? Alfie eyed him, and reached into his coat-

Finn and Isaiah were drawing their guns, Alfie’s men were responding-

“SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” Alfie boomed, stilling the room. Tommy saw that what he’d withdrawn was his wallet.

“What are you planning, Solomons?” He asked, withdrawing a cigarette from his case.

The Camden bastard rolled his eyes and withdrew a photo. “Here,” he grunted, “have a look at this.” He handed it over to Tommy.

And honestly the last thing that Tommy expected to see was the image of a young woman posing for the camera. Rather lewdly, to put it mildly. Like a whore if you wanted to be blunt.

“My Margaret,” pride dripped from Solomons’ voice, like he hadn’t just shown off the parts of a woman that only her husband would see.

Tommy weighed his answers- would Solomons light up with fury if he complimented the woman? Or would he be offended if he didn’t? The trouble was that you never knew with him. He took a contemplative drag of his cigarette.

“Lovely,” he settled on.

Alfie scowled. “Oh like yours is any better,” he taunted. “C’mon, let’s see ‘er then.”

“I don’t have pictures of my woman on me, Alfie.” Tommy said, unable to stop the slight condescension from creeping into his tone, like he was talking to a child, or else someone very simpleminded.

“Well why the fuck not? How’m I s’posed to know if this woman exists, eh?” Alfie accused, smacking the table.

This was all very confusing honestly. What the hell was he playing at? “I didn’t claim she was real.”

“What man doesn’t have a picture of the woman he loves?”

“What man carries filthy pictures of his?”

“Oi mate, those are fuckin art!” Alfie argued with surprising vehemence. It was a strange hill to make a stand on, but hey, he could relate.

“Whatever you say, Alfie,” Tommy sighed and blew out another cloud of smoke.

It was raining now. Storm clouds had been gathering all of yesterday, and he’d been able to taste the moisture, along with the filth in the city air. Rain was ugly here, didn’t clean a fuckin’ thing. He found himself thinking, longingly of the estate. The Shelby Estate, a grander name than something like Arrow House. But little things like a name change kept your feet on the ground. Sylvia would be there, reading. It was raining, so she couldn’t ride today.

At first she’d hated being in the house. She’d wanted to be back in Birmingham. Always liked the action, wanted to support him. It had been charming before, but now that they were together, it couldn’t be tolerated. Too many risks.

“Are you fucking ignoring me, Tommy-boy?” Alfie’s voice was dangerous now, angry and short. Shit. He stubbed out the remains of his smoke in the ashtray.

“No, Alfie, I’m not ignoring you,” he said on the exhale. Clearly, he reflected, nothing was going to get done with this meeting. It was a shame, but at least that meant things were secure where they stood.

Either Solomons was happy or about to betray him again.

“So, I’ve told you about my Margaret, tell me about your girl.” Alfie ordered, pouring another drink.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Tom said, but at the disbelieving look on Alfie’s face, he shrugged slightly.

“I just don’t understand how a man can have a woman and not want to talk about her. Obviously you’ve heard how proud I am, but you? Are you ashamed?” It sounded like it was amusing- the idea that Tommy Shelby would be ashamed of anything in his life.

But the idea of being ashamed of Sylvia? That struck a nerve and that pissed him off properly.

“I’m not ashamed of her.” He snapped.

Alfie’s grin was positively disgusting. “So she does exist? Well, come now, what’s her name?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he spoke begrudgingly, “Sylvia.”

“Sylvia, aye.” He nodded, turning it over. “She a gypsy like you?”

“No. She is not a gypsy.” Eye contact was key. “It wouldn’t matter either way.”

“So why don’t you talk about her? I could talk all day about mine, as I’m sure that you’ve noticed,” of course he had. “You move her in yet?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Tommy mocked, making Alfie roll his eyes.

“Neither of us are gentlemen, Tom, no matter how you fuckin’ pretend. I moved Margaret in almost right away, you know? We just, we just had this connection- I saw her and I wanted her. Sent her gifts every day, came into the store when I could- her smiles, they lit up my fuckin’ life.”

“I’ve never known you to be so open about your business, Alfie. Aren’t you worried that someone might overhear?” It wasn’t a threat, not at all, not for once. This hit a little too close to home for it to be anything more than idle curiosity, and luckily Solomons knew it.

“No, mate. I need her to know how much I love her. And I need other people to know. Because if someone thinks that they can hurt her? I will…” he laughed, and it didn’t sound sane at all, but it didn’t bother Tommy, “well fuck, I think I’d burn the fuckin’ city down. But,” and he looked at Tommy, and that affable, unstable mask came off for a moment, and Tommy was looking at the emptiness that came from the war, the same emptiness in every soldier who’d been in the field, “but I think you know that, don’t you Tom?” He sighed and shook his head. “I figured, hell, if anyone on this Earth knew what I felt- how far I’d go- it’d be you.. And you do, don’t you?”

Tommy thought about Sylvia. He always thought about Sylvia.

He did horrible things on a daily basis. What would he do if something happened to her?

And the thing was, Tommy didn’t even need to ask himself that question. He’d known the moment that he’d seen her what he’d do for her, what he’d already done. She was safe, that was what he told himself, she was under constant watch, by men he trusted, where he didn’t need to worry about someone running off with her, or an accident, or any of the things that could take her away.

“And you just keep her in an apartment?” He muttered.

“How else would I see her?” Alfie countered evenly. “I take it you don’t?”

Tommy didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to, not in the context of the question.

“No, no, the way I see it, it’s better that I can keep an eye on ‘er. I get to come home to a nice meal, lovely company, and everyone knows what’ll happen if they fuck with her. You keep yours,” and he pointed at his business associate, “in some isolated fuckin’ kingdom and what happens? People get curious. You can’t see her as often. She goes missing. There’s no fuckin’ neighbors to pay to keep watch.” And hell, that was actually a very good point, but he didn’t want to hear that from Solomons.

“Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Oh I fuckin’ disagree, mate. You don’t get that shit in hand-“

“And what might happen, Solomons?” Tommy asked calmly. He knew what this was- this was Solomons trying to knock him off his game, disturb him. And why? What the hell did Solomons have up his sleeve? “What are you planning?”

“Well I dunno mate.” The glass in Solomons’ hand was empty now, “what do you think I’m planning?”

“I think you’re just being a prick.” The other man barked out a laugh.

“Fair enough, so- grievances.”

And there it was.

When it was over, Tommy went over the meeting- all of it, bullshit included- in his head, thinking it over.

Alfie Solomons was a two faced bastard.

But Tommy found himself making plans to go visit Sylvia as a surprise, nonetheless.

[awkwardspontaneity]

Battle for the Sky

Link x GN!Sheikah!Reader

Part 4 of Memories of You

Prev | Next

Summary: Link and Y/n are called to Rito Village when a dark beast has taken over Vah Medoh and Y/n’s biggest fear finally comes to light.

AN: I finally finished this part. May have gone a touch overboard with this one it’s like 2500 words. I just had a lot of fun writing the battle and the characters. Its got a lot of fighting and mayybe a teensy bit of angst. I rlly like Revali so I had to feature him. bit of gore so just a warning

regular= present    italic= memory

Link stood atop Revali’s Landing, eyes closed as he enjoyed the cool breeze. There was so much to do before he could save Zelda, but after having to sneak through the Yiga hideout and his fight to free Vah Nabooris he relished this quiet moment. Even if it was only a few minutes under the light of the moon, he would take the time to think.

So many memories were coming back in a jumbled mess. Like pouring the pieces of a puzzle out of the box. But he hadn’t been given the full picture yet. So much of who he was was in those few precious moments he had with his friends, all he wanted was to have that back. At the very least he wished to remember those he had lost 100 years ago when calamity struck.

And yet, a part of him almost didn’t want to remember. The more he recalled his friends, the more he was reminded that because of his failures they had been lost. Trapped within their Divine Beasts with no escape for 100 years. Forced to watch as the very things they were supposed to use for protection wreaked havoc across their beloved homes. Maybe Revali had been right about him not being up to the task.

Revali.

The last time he had come to the Rito Village had been for a monster attack on Vah Medoh too hadn’t it.

“Impressive, I know.” 

Revali hovered softly before landing on the railing. A smirk stretched across his beak as he looked down at Link. Although this level of bravado was normal for the Rito warrior, Link suspected he was playing up his capabilities in response to their presence.

“Very few can achieve mastery of the sky.” So this was how the trip would be then. “Yet I have made an art of creating an updraft that allows me to soar. It’s considered to be quite the masterpiece of aerial techniques, even among the Rito”

At this point Link was discreetly looking for Y/n. They had said something about asking the village chief for the key to Medoh before running off and leaving him alone. He was sure that they had done this to avoid Revali’s complaints. Still, Link wished they would hurry and save him. Revali responded better when they were present. Or at least, he was more capable of tolerating Link with Y/n around to deflect conflicts.

“Now then,” Revali hopped down from his perch, drawing Link’s attention back to him, “my ability to explore the firmament is certainly of note, but let’s not- pardon me for being so blunt- let’s not forget that I am the most skilled archer of all the Rito. Yet despite these truths, it seems that I have been tapped to merely assist you. All because you happen to have that little darkness- sealing sword on your back.”

Link looked down with a clenched jaw. Hylia he wished Y/n would come save him. 

“There you are!” He felt a breath escape him at Y/n’s call. There was only so much of the Rito warrior’s ego one could put up with. 

Y/n skipped over to stand beside Link and gave the two Champions a grin, “I got Medoh’s key from the chief so if the two of you are ready, we should head up.”

Recali scoffed at the smaller Sheikah, waving his wing in a dismissive manner, “There’s no such need for the two of you to board Medoh. As a matter of fact your presence here is quite redundant, so why don’t you run along back to the princess like the good little hero’s you are.”

Link stepped forward to stop Revali from taking off but was stopped by Y/n placing a hand on his arm. “If you’re flying off to the archery range to get in more practice you can meet us back here. We’re fully prepared to wait until you feel ready.”

“Excuse me?”

“The chief told me you haven’t been able to enter Medoh for nearly a week due to this monster.”

“I assure you I can kill it on my own.”

Y/n sighed, reaching out to carefully lay a hand on Revali’s wing. “We only want to help. There’s no shame in working alongside your comrades. Besides, consider it a favour from us for your future help in defeating Ganon.”

“I suppose, I have no choice.” The Rito warrior hardly looked pleased with them forcing his hand, er, wing. The feathers on his neck were ruffled up as the trio looked tensely at the flying beast above. “I’m sure that even if I were to fly off at this moment, the two of you would still go on up to Vah Medoh and end up getting thrown over the sides.”

Y/n let out a nervous laugh at his snide remark and Link found himself wondering if the tightness in their voice was due to Revali being correct in his assumptions… or maybe something else.

------

Link and Y/n appeared on top of Vah Medoh in a swirl of blue light. They were swiftly met by Revali pushing them to stay hidden. He was quick to explain the winged beast, how it crawled across Medoh with sprawling legs. Y/n had mused about winged octopi only to be flicked on the head by Revali. 

As the trio emerged from their hiding spot the two Hylians found Revali had not given nearly enough detail on the horrific creature. It was as large as he had described, with muscled legs sprawling across the wings of the Divine Beast. Its body resembled a Lynel, thick arms ending in sharp claws. Possibly the most terrifying thing were the wings sprouting from its back. They were dark and feathered, each one dripping with malice that ran down its body before piling across the ground like muddy footprints. 

Link heard Y/n draw in a sharp breath as they crept along the edge in their approach. He reached out to place a hand between their shoulder blades, a simple motion they had developed in their journeys to signal they were with the other. Whether in physical danger or an uncomfortable situation, they would handle things together. He wasn’t sure how much comfort he could offer at this moment, but he’d make due with the promise to be by their side. Even if he was worried about the feeling of their shallow breaths against his hand.

After carefully making their way to the center terminal of the Divine Beast, Revali gave a quick signal before crouching to take off. As the wind picked up around the Rito, Y/n took in a breath before squeezing Link’s wrist and darting out from their hiding spot. 

“HEY SLIMEBALL!!”

Apparently that was extremely offensive to the beast because as soon as it located the small Sheikah it tore off after them. Y/n sprinted away sending a wink as they passed the terminal and Link. Y/n reached the first pillar and slid to a stop behind it right in time to take cover from the bomb arrows exploding against the creature's torso. Mangled wings came up to protect the beast from further blasts giving Link the opportunity to lunge forward and strike down its legs. He managed to slash through two of the muscular appendages before the creature let out a screech and spread its wings, and with them, an attack of razor sharp feathers. 

Y/n had come out from their spot behind the pillar, luckily just in time to slash a feather in half before it could hit Link. The duo exchanged grins before taking off to continue their plan. Y/n would lead the beast away with their faster speeds while Revali would circle above, waiting for the moment when the Sheikah would twist the monster around pillars where he could strike it with a volley of bomb arrows. Then while it wrapped itself in its wings for protection, Link would unleash a flurry rush, slashing away at its legs until they disappeared in a haze of dark smoke.

They pulled off their barrage of attacks until the final leg dissipated giving it one option. 

To fly.

Fortunately, they had planned for this, and Revali struck the creature before it could get far. It crashed to the ground with such a force, it shook the entire Divine Beast in the sky. Y/n let out a scream as they lost their balance, reaching out to grab the pillar they stood beside. He knew he had a goal to complete but, as he slashed away at the fallen creature, all Link could think about was how he wanted to rush to his friend's side. 

The creature seemed to sense Link’s hesitation because it began to spasm, forcing Link to jump back. It seized the moment and took off into the skies screeching as Revali circled too close.

“We must finish this quickly!” Revali dove closer to the two champions, being mindful of the writhing beast in the skies. “That thing is getting desperate, and I only have so many arrows left.”

Link gave him a terse nod as he rushed over to Y/n who was still pressed against the pillar. 

“Y/n.” Only a small hum escaped them, although there was a comfort in the way they leaned into his touch. “Y/n, I don't know what’s going on in your head right now, but we need you. Revali’s almost out of arrows and I don’t think I can take it down alone.”

Their hand curled around his, shaky but tight. “I’m okay.” He was sure neither of them believed the grin that pulled at their lips. “Its wings are the only thing it has left to attack with, right? Keep its attention and I’ll take them out.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have to be.”

He nodded, although his expression betrayed his concern, something Y/n took note of. They smiled softly, albeit weakly, and out their forehead against his. “Relax Hero, we can do this.”

Link sighed softly, pressing his head against theirs with a little more force. They pulled away sharing nervous grins before Link took off. 

Fortunately, the beast had been distracted by launching feathers at Revali, who had been swooping around it with practised expertise. Link gave a shout to signal he was ready for Revali to shoot down the monster and, with an audible scoff, the Rito notched his arrows.

With a thunderous crash the beast landed on Medoh once again and, fighting the urge to look back at Y/n, Link rushed forward with his sword drawn. Link slashed and chopped away at the creature's muscular arms, trying to force it to spread its wings. It took longer than he had hoped for with far too many close calls before wings spread, throwing sludge along with it. If it weren’t for the glint off Y/n’s twin blades, Link almost wouldn’t have seen the young Sheikah sprint past. Before the monster could register their presence, Y/n had hopped from its arm, up to the shoulder, and flipped over to land on its back. 

What came next was a flurry of silver blades and the tearing of malice dripping flesh. The monster attempted to rear back and reach Y/n with its arms but it was stopped by Revali and Link each attacking an arm, preventing it from being able to knock off their partner. 

With a final flourish, Y/n thrust both blades between the beast's wings. A harrowing shriek escaped the beast as it trembled from the blow. The malice surrounding it began to bubble and swell up. With a grunt, Y/n placed a foot against its back and tore their blades free. They looked up at Link with a grin but, just as they opened their mouth to shout, the monster exploded.

The moment Link uncovered his face, he was met with the sight of Y/n sliding off the edge of Vah Medoh. Link took off as fast as he could, watching as they scrambled for a grip along the edges but came up with nothing. Link hit the ground, sliding towards them with an outstretched hand. The two made eye contact and Link’s heart twisted at the terror within their ruby eyes. He felt their fingertips touch before Y/n was gone, their desperate cry as they slid over the edge carrying across the wind.

Link stared at his empty hand. He would have thrown himself over the edge after Y/n had he not seen the flash of blue following Revali as he shot after the Sheikah like an arrow from his bow.

The moments Link lay there waiting for Revali to return were spent forcing himself to breath while his lungs were crushed under the weight of guilt. He could still feel his fingertips brushing against Y/n’s. See the expression of fear that had torn the grin from their face as they cried out.

Wind swirled around Link, forcing him to sit up as Revali soared past him. The Rito landed on Medoh and, in a surprisingly tender moment, laid a wing upon the Sheikah warrior clinging to him like a koala.

Link was quick to approach the two, getting a glimpse of the way Y/n’s brow furrowed as they hid their face in Revali’s feathered chest. Noticing the way Link watched the two, Revali scoffed before grabbing at Y/n’s arms. “You’re not falling anymore, you can stop tugging at my feathers.”

Y/n mumbled an apology as they shakily detached themselves and stepped to the ground. They managed a wobbly grin that was interrupted by Link crashing into them. Y/n let out the faintest sob as they buried themselves deeper into his arms. Link tightened his grip, carefully pressing his nose into their hair. The two heroes held each other tightly, hoping to ground themselves in the other. To remind themselves that they were together still.

“Ahem.” The bubble popped around the two heroes as Revali looked on in barely hidden irritation. He tapped his talons against Medoh, sighing as the two looked at him with wide eyes. “As wonderful as it is that we are all, in fact, alive. I would appreciate it if you could use whatever it is you brought to seal away that creature.”

“Right.” Y/n stepped towards the terminal, Link’s hand still held tightly in their own. They pulled a seal from one of their pouches before mumbling a few phrases. Deep violet tendrils of malice swirled around, collecting in front of Y/n. The seal they held began to glow blue, spreading its own tendrils of light outwards. The lights seemed to dance through the air around them. Gathering together until they spiraled into the paper seal in Y/n’s hands.

“That should be it. Now can we please get off this bird?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

[bloomingnono]

meant it.

pairing: jeno x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: ~ 1.3k

warnings: none

intro l part 1 l part 2

a/n: this is my first “real” writing and i’m honestly terrified that it’s just outright bad,,, so please spare me if this is pure garbage in word form🥲

but anyways, thanks again to my wonderful anonie that requested this♡

taglist of my loves: @luvlyjaemin @vera-liscious @lenaluvs

Struggling to let sleep consume your body, you lie in your bed and watch as the digital numbers of your alarm clock shine “3:12 a.m.”

With the room illuminated by the warm hue of your bedside lamp, you turn to lay on your left side. You promptly come face-to-face with the love of your life, and the corners of your mouth instinctively curl up into a smile.

You fondly take in his sleeping features; from his fluffy brown hair to his rosy lips; he seemed undoubtedly flawless.

You couldn’t help yourself as you reach your hand over to gently cup the side of his face, faintly brushing your thumb over his beauty mark.

The cold touch of your fingertips provokes the dark eyelashes to flutter open, allowing for a moment of direct eye contact.

Lee Jeno’s eyes. Whenever those dark brown spheres look at you, they never seem to lose their glimmer. They could dissolve you in a matter of minutes. And without fail, that’s exactly what they managed to do.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Jeno says, his orbs disappearing to be replaced with the familiar arcs.

“Watch it. Just because I invited you to stay the night, does not mean I can’t kick you out.”

The tease laced in your voice elicits a warm chuckle out of your boyfriend. You feel his arm drape around your waist as he pulls you closer into his embrace.

His eyebrow raises, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “Oh really? Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe letting you stay the night was a mistake.” The giggle that leaves your mouth is effortless, as you push his chest gently. “Go back to sleep. It’s late.”

“You can’t just tell me to go back to sleep, when you were the one that put your cold ass hands on my face, and then proceeded to stare at me as if I was some mythical creature.” He slowly inches his face closer, your lips nearly grazing each other. “You awakened the beast, and now you have to take responsibility.” His eyes now held a mischievous glint, egging you on for a response.

“Beast? What beast? All I see is a helpless little puppy.” Your hands find their way to his face yet again; this time, squishing his cheeks together in an endearing way.

“Oh, you’ve done it now!” His hands find their way to your sides as they begin to attack you with an unbearable tickling sensation.

You shriek in response, vigorously squirming your body to get away from the sudden onslaught. You laugh uncontrollably, tears starting to form at the corner of your eyes.

“Say that you take it back! Say it!!” Jeno declares, a smile of his own placed upon his face.

“OKAY!! OKAY!!! I TAKE IT BACK! I TAKE IT BACK!!!!” The tickling stops, allowing you to catch your breath.

“That’s what I thought.” The sly smirk returns to his face, painting it with a sense of triumph.

You send him a glare without much heat behind it, unable to find the energy to stay annoyed at him. “Oh wipe that look off your face before I push you off the bed.”

“You know you love me~”

You find yourself looking directly into his eyes for the second time that night. And once again, you found yourself melting.

“I do. I love you.” And you meant it. The words that were just spoken, barely above a whisper, were not spoken in vain. You loved him.

You watch as Jeno physically softens at your words, his mischievous demeanor gone.

“I love you too, Y/N. I love you.”

And he meant it too.

But all good things must come to an end.

It didn’t happen all at once. It happened gradually.

His words slowly became more and more hollow. His eyes steadily lost their glimmer for you. His teasing demeanor appeared less and less.

.

And suddenly, he didn’t mean it anymore.

.

The love he had for you was seeping out of him, right in front of your eyes. You could only stand and watch, as the love of your life slowly fell out of love with you.

The spark was gone.

Frustration consistently decorated his sharp features. And no matter how much he tried to hide it, the irritation became evident in his actions.

However, this behavior was never geared towards you. It was geared towards himself. He hated himself. He hated how the feelings that were once so strong, suddenly vanished. He hated how he didn’t know the reason why. And he hated how he couldn’t control it.

But as much as he hated it, he just couldn’t find it in himself to truly mean the three simple words of “I love you,” anymore.

In spite of this fact, you still worried whether he arrived home safely. You still nagged about him eating three proper meals a day. You still hoped that he got enough sleep the night before.

.

You still meant it.

“Y/N, I love you.” There’s a sense of clear desperation laced in Jeno’s soothing tone, evoking a sharp ache deep within you.

But you don’t reply.

You glance into your favorite pair of dark orbs, only to find them dull and barren.

This was his final attempt to try and rekindle all that had been lost. But, you both knew it was hopeless.

At your boyfriend’s efforts, the corners of your mouth twitch into a small smile; yet your eyes betray you as unshed tears begin to gather at the corner. Without a word, you quietly approach him. You swallow back a sob and feel it slide down your throat as you draw near.

When you stand before him, you shakily raise your right hand to hold the side of his face. You use the pad of your thumb to wipe away the tears that were now cascading down Jeno’s cheek.

You feel him lean into your touch, futilely seeking for that spark again. To feel something. Anything.

You gingerly raise your left hand to hold his other cheek, carefully cradling his face between both your tepid hands. You slightly tilt his head down, making sure his eyes bore into your own. With tears pooling in your eyes and lips still curved up into a quiet smile; you give your reply.

.

“No. You don’t.”

.

A soft silence falls upon the room as you whisper those words. There wasn’t a single sense of malice in your voice. Not a single drop of hatred or resentment. Just pure truth.

Silent tears begin to soak your hands at a quicker rate, sliding down your palms and drenching the cuff of your sleeves. You watch as he diverts his eyes from your view, struggling to find the right words.

“Y/N... for some reason… my feelings for you have changed…. And… and I wish I could tell you why. I really, really do. But… I just can’t.” The crack in his voice nearly shatters you.

Yet again, you don’t reply.

You simply wrap your arms around him, burying yourself within the crook of his neck. You finally allow your own tears to leak out of your eyes, each one burning as it coursed down your face.

You absorb his scent. His warmth. His presence. Him.

You feel his arms eagerly wrap around your frame, craving to feel your body within his hold one last time.

.

You still meant it.

But your words didn’t belong to him anymore.

part 2

[startanewdream]

Come fly with me

Summary:  In which Ginny can't help but follow her stupidest ideas and Harry is just happy to spend some time with her. Fluffy moment, set during Half-Blood Prince.

Read on AO3 if you prefer or below the cut:

________________

That's one of the stupidest ideas Ginny has ever had, but like all of her stupid ideas, she is too stubborn to withdraw.

Harry is walking at her side, throwing glances at her that mix challenge and exasperation with just a touch of concern. For someone that she knows has a bit of a saving-people thing, he seems to be enjoying this situation too much.

Of course he does. He has already done it - twice - and survived.

Sometimes it's not easy when your boyfriend has a hero-complex that got him into too many adventures. Especially if you are someone who also loves taking risks.

'Do you know how to do this?', Harry asks, and she loves that the worry in his voice is directed at helping her, not stopping her.

'I've done it before', she says nonchalantly, hoping her voice doesn't betray any fear. 'Part of it at least'.

Well, she is telling the truth. She had already met Buckbeak - or Witherwings, if she must -, but then it had been on a room with the door opened behind her and with Sirius holding the hippogriff, so she never felt in danger then.

Of course, now the situation is completely different.

They reach Hagrid's hut and the hippogriff is there, quietly patting the grass, looking even a little bit bored. He looks like he will enjoy some flying, but still, looking at his sharp talons, she thinks of how Fred and George will laugh themselves to death when they hear she died trying to tame a hippogriff.

No, they will laugh when they hear she died because she couldn't resist proving herself to Romilda Vane, of all people.

'Just be respectful', Harry is reminding her, and she nods in concentration. She remembers Sirius telling her to bow down politely and wait for the hippogriff to do the next move. She takes a deep breath and starts walking forward; but then a thought comes to her mind and she turns back sharply.

Without hesitation, she takes the three steps that separate her from Harry and kisses him fully in the mouth.

If he is surprised, Harry doesn't show - he seems always available for a good snog, more at ease with public displays of affection than she ever thought he could, as if all he thinks all the time is of kissing her too.

It was supposed to be her kissing him, but Harry easily gets the upper hand; his hands hold her face gently, his fingers caressing her cheek as his lips move over hers softly and demandingly and Ginny is out of breath when she breaks apart.

Nothing unusual. Kissing Harry always draws away all breath and worries from her body.

'Wow', she sighs, smiling happily, for the first time that afternoon less worried about facing a hippogriff.

'Wow', he repeats dazedly, as if he wasn't the one to kiss spectacularly his girlfriend. 'What was that for?'

For a moment she thinks of saying it was like a last kiss - one for if things went wrong - but then Harry might take that too serious.

'Good luck', she says instead, winking at him, and then marching resolutely to the hippogriff.

Buckbeak still looks menacing, but kissing Harry always brings light and an added touch of his bravery to her, so Ginny breathes slowly and bows to the hippogriff, keeping eye contact with the beast's yellow eyes. Looking at him causes a sudden wave of longing for Sirius, who had been so nice to her - he too understood having some darkness stuck on your head sometimes.

Perhaps Buckbeak remembers meeting her before or perhaps she is able to pass on her respect because after a few seconds he bows down to her and she advances with a smile to caress his feathery head, until she touches his back.

Her heart beats faster, but it's adrenaline, more than fear, and she thinks of the first time she ever flew when she was seven. She could do it then, she can do it now.

'We could ask a saddle for Hagrid', Harry says coming at her side, after just bowing to Buckbeak.

'Did you need one?'

'No, but I was smaller'.

Ginny scoffs.

'I am not that bigger than you were at thirteen, Harry. If you did it I can do too'.

Harry throws her an amused look, but he just nods. He is probably thinking that in the list of every crazy thing he ever did, at least she is asking to repeat one of the less dangerous.

It's not because he has already done it that she wants to do too. Well, it kind of is, but not really. It's all Romilda Bloody Vane's fault.

Ever since Romilda asked her about the tattoo on Harry's chest and Ginny told her it was a dragon, Romilda had been annoying her, insisting she was wrong. Apparently Witch Weekly has an article describing a hippogriff, and despite the fact that Ginny already saw Harry's chest - and is very much in a position to deny any tattoo -, Romilda didn't believe her.

'I bet you never even saw a hippogriff before. You could never fly one into sunset like Harry did, so dreamy -'

McGonagall had appeared then, stopping Ginny from hexing Romilda - she couldn't afford detention, not when it would lessen the time she had with Harry - and Ginny was left fuming for the rest of her classes, unable to even say Harry had flown during morning daylight.

And that was why she had dragged her boyfriend to Hagrid's hut right before dinner, explaining quickly what she intended to do. Harry had agreed quite easily with her - he always enjoyed good mischief and even more if it involved some time alone with her.

'Hey, Buckbeak', she says reassuringly to the hippogriff. 'We will just go for a flight, ok? No biting or making me fall, what kind of a Quidditch player I would look like then?'

She is not sure if he understood her, but the hippogriff nods slightly, his head inclined to her. She touches his head again, with fondness, before sitting on his back. It's not very comfortable and she looks helpless at the feathery head, wondering where is supposed to hold; before she can decide it, however, Buckbeak takes flight and she grabs his neck hurriedly.

After the first three seconds of panic, she lets out an exhilarating cry. Buckbeak has gone up faster than she could on her broom, and there is something beautiful in the way his wings are spread, in the balance of the flight. It's not like how she feels on a broom - she likes to be in control - but it has some freedom too. She had never flown outside the Quidditch field on Hogwarts before and now they are gliding over the Forbidden Forest.

She looks down and she thinks she sees the small dot that is Harry looking in her direction. A sudden thought comes to her and she smirks.

'Hey, Buckbeak', she says, bending down to talk to him. 'What do you say we take Harry on this flight with us?'

Buckbeak makes a sound that looks like agreement before he slides toward the ground, with Ginny trying to hold on to his neck and not fall over his head. It's exciting, though, so she is laughing uncontrollably when they land softly.

'Ginny! That was -'

'Come on!', she says grinning, offering him her hand. 'Come fly with me'.

'You know we could do it on a broomstick, right?'

Buckbeak makes an indignant sound.

'Look, you are offending him', she says playfully, stroking Buckbeak's neck. 'He is just playing, Buckbeak, you are much more friendly than any broom'.

The hippogriff makes a happy sound now.

Harry raises his brows at her.

'Making friends?'

'We and Buckbeak get along very well. Now come on, it's a beautiful sunset out there'.

There is the slightest hesitation in Harry, that seems to disappear the minute he sits behind her, and his hands close over her waist instead of holding on to the hippogriff. Ginny lays her back against his chest and Harry breathes in slowly - she knows he is feeling her perfume, as he likes to do. She can hear his heart beating faster even before the hippogriff takes flight with them.

It's different being well above ground with Harry, feeling his body close to her, his lips occasionally pressing a soft kiss on her neck that cause goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cold air. Even Buckbeak seems to know this flight is supposed to be softer. He soars slowly, taking them towards the lake, where they have a gorgeous vision of the sun setting behind the mountains, bathing the sky in pink and orange and red, while the lake reflects the Hogwarts castle.

'How did you know about hippogriffs?', he asks her in a low voice. She bits her lips before answering.

'Sirius taught me', says Ginny, glancing at him for his reaction. Harry smiles with just a little touch of sadness.

'Of course'.

She hesitates, wondering if she should say more, but she thinks Harry would like to hear.

'Sirius always told me that he wished Buckbeak could be out there flying again'.

'He would be glad then… he escaped Hogwarts once on Buckbeak's back, did you know?' She nods and Harry chuckles easily. 'I think it's the kind of adventure he and my dad would have approved'.

She takes his hand, entwining their fingers, and Harry raises their hands to press a soft kiss on hers.

'At least Buckbeak is free now'. There is a short pause. 'Luna once told me that people we love are just waiting for us - like behind a veil, and we will see them again. Do you think it's true?'

She never thought about it, but then again death isn't always threatening her as it seems to happen with Harry. Still, when she thinks of Harry, she is always amazed at the way his eyes are flashing and shining and so obviously impressed by the fact he is alive. She cannot picture a world in which his heart isn't beating, in which his eyes aren't sparkling with the possibilities.

But since none of them is immortal, one day - in the distant future, she hopes - they will all be gone. And then… it cannot be just this. There's got to be more.

'Luna is usually right. She is of the smartest people I've known'.

He nods solemnly, and she feels another wave of affection for him, for the way Harry obviously cares for Luna too.

'I hope wherever he is, Sirius is seeing this too', Harry whispers. 'It's amazing'

Harry sighs, and Ginny wonders when was the last time he stopped to see the sunset - if he ever did it at all.

She glances back at him. There is a wondrous expression on his face as he takes the view, as if he is surprised he gets to see such a spectacle of nature; he looks so pure and endearing.

And then Harry looks at her, their eyes meeting, and the wonder in his face doesn't change. He looks at her softly and - if she dares to think of it - in love.

He opens his mouth, his eyes not leaving her, but no sound comes out. His hand raises to touch her face, putting behind her ear all the strands of hair that escaped her ponytail, with such tenderness that she thinks she doesn't really need him to say what he is feeling.

It's written on his eyes and it's a reflection of what she feels.

She doesn't know who moves first - at this point, after weeks of dating, she and Harry's thoughts are usually in synchrony - but then they are kissing, fifty feet above the ground, the cool wind blowing around them, soaring in the air on the wings of a hippogriff.

Her hands cup his face and Harry's hands are buried in her hair, holding her neck to keep her close to him and a part of Ginny thinks it's risky what they are doing, none of them holding on to the hippogriff. Any change in the wind, any movement, and they might fall.

But Ginny thinks she has already fallen.

The sky is already purple and greyish blue when they return to the ground. She strokes Buckbeak's head once more, thanking him for the ride, and she turns to Harry with a grin that he matches without even thinking about it as if he cannot resist her joyfulness.

'So', she begins, taking his hand and looking mischievously at him. 'How do you feel about flying on a Hungarian Horntail now?'

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.35

Sacrifices to Save the World

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 9,582

Warnings: smut, LOTS of fluff, angst

A/N: (THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! One more to go!) Here it is everyone! The moment I have been waiting for. I can’t really say much and I don’t want to give anything away so, I’ll just let the chapter speak for itself. I also want to say that I’m sorry that I haven’t been as diligent about responding to comments. Trust me when I say that I read and reread them often! I appreciate your thoughts and reactions so much. As always, if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work!

Tags are closed!

Please DO NOT repost my stories. Reblogs are MOST welcome!

You bustle around the cottage sweeping cat hair and dust, mixing the white of the chalk dust with the crimson blood of Grandmother’s sacrificial cat.

Your attempts to tidy the space is wasted as you’re only making it worse, but rather than focus on her words you prefer to clean.

She watches you from the seat at her table where you placed her. A cup of water gripped in her withered hand, still trembling slightly.

“Stop cleaning, girl!” Grandmother chides, watching you with annoyance as you stop amongst the mess on her floor and throw your hands out to your sides in a clear indication of not understanding.

“What would you have me do?” You ask her, voice tight with distress. “You tell me that my husband will fight to his death and I am supposed to what? Dance?”

“Just sit down.” She points at the seat across from her, her finger crooked and weak.

You drop the broom where you stand and plop yourself down on the indicated seat while ignoring the creak of the weathered wood. The old woman would resist new furnishings though you’d managed to sneak in a new bed and kitchenware.

“You killed your cat.” You tell her, as if she doesn’t know.

“Yes.” She agrees and lifts the small cup to her lips to take a drink.

“Why?”

“I had to see.” She explains. “Something was…was there.”

“When I found you outside Steve’s office?” You check, though you know her answer.

“Yes.” With a sigh she captures your gaze and does not release it. “I have sensed a darkness growing in the world. Something elusive. Hidden. It has kept its face secret, behind that of puppets. It uses others to do its bidding and until today I had no idea what that bidding was.

“He is gathering six relics. Stones. Rich in magic properties. Richer than any other relics I have ever come across. Each of them with powers more terrifying than the last.”

“What kind of powers?” You ask her, voice feeble and wispy.

“Powers to control time. Power to manipulate the mind and the very fabric of space and reality.” She warns. “Powers to rule the world…or wipe it from existence.”

Your heart grows cold, slipping into the pit of your stomach as you picture Steve in his armor standing before such massive power. What could your warrior husband do in the face of such might?

“Who is he?” You ask her, eager to put a face to the threat.

“I don’t know.” She says, looking down at the necklace that always rests around your neck. The locket that is Steve’s insignia, with his picture along with your parents. “I cannot see his face. I can only feel him. He is stronger than the king. Stronger than many of those who fight here. Together they may defeat him, but I did not see them together. I saw only your husband, the bodies of those you love surrounded him, and he fell too.”

You get up, unwilling to let her convince you despite you having already accepted her words. “I cannot listen to this.”

“You must, girl. You must take heed of what I tell you and prepare yourself for what is to come. Take your daughter and go as far away from here as possible but even that may not save you.” She adds as an afterthought. “I feel this evil plans for more than death. He has such a will.”

Turning to her you consider her thoughtful expression and the way she seems lost to her vision. She believes it with every fiber of her being and your own heart is swayed into panic as you throw yourself onto your knees at her feet.

Gripping the hand she has resting on her lap, you raise it to your breast and hold it there to where your heart is pounding.

“There must be something you can do. Something that will save him.” You reason, pleading for her to see reason as if she held the very fate of Steve within her old hands. “Won’t you try?”

“I cannot.” She shakes her head. “Such magics are forbidden. I am no dark witch.”

Her insistence is fractured, her own eyes betray her as she eyes you up and then turns away.

Her fondness is clear. You know that she loves you despite the way she speaks to you at times. She has fought hard for your happiness. If you would beg for her life, you think she might give it up.

“Is there no way? Nothing? Surely there is a chance to change things without resorting to dark magics? Please, Grandmother…” Before you know what’s happening, you’re crying.

Tears flow freely across your cheeks but your voice is strong in the only way that it can be when you’re pleading for your husband’s life.

“I cannot live in a world where my husband is not alive. Please…help me. Help me save him. There must be a way. There must be…please. We just had our daughter…” You lay your head in her lap, overcome with fear at this future she’s seen. “Please.”

Her silence is heavy. You can feel her thinking, can feel her mind searching for a way to give you what you want.

You have always loved this old woman but until today, you had not considered how much she might truly love you as one would a true granddaughter.

“Give me time.” She sighs.

“You’ll try?!” You gasp, your heart soaring.

With an elated sob you drop your head onto her lap and with gentle, feeble hands, she strokes the back of your head.

“I will think on it. I will try. I cannot make any promises.” She warns you, reaching under your chin to draw your gaze up. “What you ask for will not be easy. Is he worth it?”

You blink, confused by her question because in your mind there is absolutely no doubt.

“He’s worth more. He’s worth everything.” You nod. “I love him.”

Grandmother’s gaze withers and she releases you, nudging you away.

“Go. Be with your husband and child. Let me ponder.” She orders and slowly you rise.

You’re so stunned you have to keep a hand on the table as you rise to keep your knees buckling.

“When will you know?” You ask her, sniffling from the tears you shed.

“Go.” She orders again, staring at the hem of your dress. “And change your dress. You’re covered in blood.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Standing still, you hold tight to the lower left post of your bed as your corset is laced again.

The copper tub by the roaring fire in your bedroom sits lukewarm, full pink and wine-colored peony blooms floating within its oiled surface.

“Why was there blood on your dress?” Natasha wonders, tugging tight on your laces making you gasp.

“It’s not important.” You tell her, then think better of keeping her completely in the dark. “There was a dead cat on the way to Grandmother’s and I didn’t realize it until I came upon it.”

Fuck, was that believable? Does she trust you enough to accept your words without doubt?

“You’re keeping something from me.” She counters, frowning as she ties the corset closed.

Apparently not.

“I’m not.” You argue, but after her silence pierces your soul, you sigh. “I’m worried.”

“About Hydra?” She asks, supplying you with an appropriate alternative to the truth.

“Of course.” You grasp onto this straw and lean your stress onto this very real threat. “The last time I was within their vicinity someone tried to kill me and Maggie.”

“That won’t happen again.” Natasha assures you, moving towards you with a long ivory gown. The slightly yellowish tinge to the flowing fabric is pretty, though you note this in the back of your head. You’re too preoccupied with the threats looming overhead to notice how pretty the dress is. “I should have stayed with you.”

“It wasn’t your fault Nat. Pierce knew what he was doing. He’d been to father’s many times and he knew that I’d be in that part of the castle. He knew that you’d all be focused elsewhere. He was going to find a way to me one way or another.” You reason, but you know that if Peter or Nat had been there with you, there would have been a better chance of getting away with greater speed.

“I will never leave your side again.” Nat declares passionately but you huff a laugh and turn to look at her as she gathers up the skirt of your dress, hooking her arms through it to make ready for you to wear.

“Nat,” You smile. “I love you, and maybe you’re right and things would have been better if you or someone else had been by my side that night. But you cannot be beside me always. You’re a wife now. And even if you cannot be a mother naturally, there are many other ways to have children.”

Nat drops her arms, watching you with a concerned and furrowed brow. She’s clearly focused on you and not herself. You want to remedy that quickly. You love her, how can you allow her to only ever let you be her concern?

“You two must have discussed it?” You prompt, knowing that Bucky would not give up on giving Nat what she most desperately desires. “I know you want to be a mother. You love children.”

She seems to realize that you are not about to let this drop, so she sighs, relaxing a bit.

“I have thought about it.” She nods. “And yes, I do love children but I’m not sure if it’s right for me with the life that Bucky and I lead.”

Your heart aches suddenly, a renewal of Grandmother’s words reminding you that your daughter could lose her father. She so damn right about that.

“I don’t blame you.” You nod, sitting yourself on the end of the bed. “This life that all of you have chosen is one most unwelcome to the traditional family. But it is possible. Father and Mother have Morgana, Lord and Lady Lang have their daughter. Steve and I now have Margaret.

“It may not be ideal, certainly. But possible.” You offer in encouragement.

You don’t want her to give up. You want her to be happy.

Nat looks down at your stocking covered feet and nods.

“You don’t have to. Of course, it is entirely your choice and Bucky’s. I’m not trying to say that you should have children. But if you should you choose to have them, it is possible to live both lives.” You really hope that you’re not putting any pressure on her to raise a child when she might not want to.

Natasha’s inability to have children naturally should not be a hindrance on her desire to be a mother if she should decide to try. There are thousands of children in orphanages across the Kingdoms that would benefit greatly from a loving home that you know Bucky and Nat would provide effortlessly.

At the end of the day however, you know it is their choice.

“I appreciate your support.” Nat admits, gathering your skirts again and then holding them open for you to put your head through. “Truly. It means so much to me that you think I could do a good job. As a mother.”

You stand and stick your head through the dress and begin to pull your arms through the large puffed sleeves as Natasha straightens your skirt.

The neckline is ruffled, heart shaped, and low. The sleeves are also ruffled, small cinches that wrap around your arm mid-bicep leaving your shoulders and neckline exposed. Nat turns you and quickly laces up the back of the dress. She pulls it tight so that there is no chance of it slipping down.

“Isn’t this a little-?”

“You look beautiful.” Natasha smiles, fixing a long pink sash around your waist that she ties into a long loose bow above the curve of your bum. “Shall I braid your hair again?”

Natasha’s hands work fast, her fingers nimble and familiar with your hair’s texture and flow. The skirt is so long and flowing that you wonder if something special has been planned for you to attend as you feel that despite the somewhat casual look of the dress, it also doubles as pretty in that formal sense.

Your fingers find the embroidered pink and white peonies on the bodice that decorate your breast.

“Am I seeing someone special today?” You ask.

“No.” Natasha smiles. “Just us. Lunch is being served in the garden for you, Margaret, and Steve. Bucky and I shall be nearby. Peter will be close too. No one special.”

You huff a laugh as she lists all of the most precious people in your life. “So, only those special to me then?”

Nat chuckles and finishing tying off your hair.

“Lunch is for you, Steve, and Maggie. Steve expressed a wish to spend some quiet time alone with the two of you. He knows he’s been busy the past few weeks racing about chasing leads on this new Hydra weapon. He wants to make it up to you and I know he’d appreciate you in this dress.”

Her explanation makes sense but you’re successfully distracted from the dress by the mention of Hydra.

“How was the search?” You suddenly wonder, remembering Steve’s orders for her and Bucky.

“We’ve spread the word and will go out again tonight to search. I’ll tell you if anyone is found.”

“I’d like to know what’s happening with this.” You turn to her, adjusting within her grip as she reaches down to fuss with your dress. “I need to know, Nat. I can’t be kept in the dark again.”

Natasha drops her hands, placing them on her hips as she considers the look in your eyes.

“You’re not saying something.” She realizes. “What’s troubling you?”

“Nothing.” You say quickly, a shrug thrown her way just to brush off the concern. “I just don’t want any surprises. Not like before. This threat seems insignificant but what if there’s more to this mysterious weapon? I want to know what you’re all walking into.”

“Steve has promised to keep you appraised.” Nat promises you. “I will hold him to his word.”

Slowly, as the truth of her words shines through her eyes, a small smile stretches your lips.

“Thanks, Nat.”

~~~~~~~~~~

As you approach your renovated pavilion, peony blossoms blooming all around in varying shades of pink, you adjust Maggie in your arms.

You’re careful with your own dress. Double-checking the top of your bodice to make sure for the tenth time that you are covered after feeding your daughter. Nat made sure it was tight again but you’re fretting is ceaseless as a mother now.

The corset you’re wearing made especially for you since you are nursing, makes it easy for you to feed her without much fuss. Steve seems to favor it too though you’ve told him to be gentle and he’s avoided enjoying your breasts while you’re focused on raising your little one.

Aside from a loving caress and gentle butterfly kisses when the two of you make love, he’s avoided touching them.

Reaching the stairs, you fix your daughter’s dress—changed to match yours with endless ruffles but the same peony embroidery pattern on her little chest and pink sash around her little waist.

Steve rises quickly, rushing towards you with his arms extended.

Maggie coos excitedly, her little high-pitched squeaks and goos nearly make you swoon as she kicks her little legs excitedly. She’s not exactly screaming yet, but her noises are long and eager.

“There’s my princess.” Steve says proudly, his eyes flooding with love as he takes her into his large arms and kisses her chubby cheek.

He turns her to sit with her little back pressed against his chest and smiles at you while your own eyes are glued to your daughter.

“And my beautiful Queen.” He gushes, pulling your attention away from Maggie as he leans down slowly until he meets your lips with a long slow peck. “How are you?”

His voice is soft and deep. “I’m very well.”

It’s almost a lie.

In this moment, here with Steve and Maggie, you are most definitely well. You’re happy and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Your heart still weighs a ton with Grandmother’s news.

For a terrible moment as Steve walks away from you to sit down with Maggie on his lap, you remember her words and your knees almost buckle.

With him focused on the little one, you manage to sit yourself down before he can notice.

Rapid footsteps climb the stairs behind you. You turn to find Peter moving in to stand beside you both. He smiles excitedly as he watches Maggie. He, like everyone else in the castle, is head over heels for her.

No one draws a smile quicker than Maggie, even from the gentry that had so readily spread rumors about you.

This makes you happy. Your daughter accepted.

“Cook will be out with your meals shortly, your Majesties.” He informs you both.

“Won’t you join us?” You ask him, but Peter meets Steve’s eyes for a moment then reaches up to scratch behind his head, his cheeks flushing pink.

Clearly Steve had made it clear that he wanted to spend time with you and Maggie alone to more than just Nat. However, there’s something else in that rosy tint in Peter’s cheeks.

“I…I’m actually meeting Morgana in the libraries to help her with her studies. I will cancel with her if you wish me to stay?” He offers, though you see the disappointment in his eyes.

“No.” You hurry to assure him. “No, we’re fine. I just wanted to be sure you ate.”

“Thank you, your Majesty. I believe Cook is sending sandwiches to the library for us.” Peter bows and with an excitement in his step you watch him until he’s out of sight.

“They make a good match.” You smile, turning to take a sip of water from the silver goblet before you.

“Who?” Steve asks, confused. He bounces his leg to keep Maggie occupied while allowing her to hold his finger in her tight tiny fist. She drags it to her mouth and bites it with her gums, yet Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

“Peter and Morgana.”

“Peter and your sister?” Steve asks in shock. “But…she’s so young.”

“She’s fifteen, going on sixteen.” You remind him. “If they are engaged this year that will still leave them with two years of courtship before they’re married. That is the custom in Malibia.

She’ll be eighteen by then and Peter will be twenty-four. Some people would say those are two ages perfect for marrying.”

Despite the pleasant picture you paint, Steve’s frown only grows.

“What?” You chuckle, reaching into your skirts to find the pocket where you’d placed a few small towels for Maggie’s constant drooling.

You offer Steve the towel but he’s still frowning? No…he’s pouting! You get up and move around to wipe her chin before placing the towel in Steve’s hand.

“Why are you pouting?”

“I’m not pouting.” Steve grumbles.

It makes you laugh again. “Steve…”

“Maggie will not be getting engaged until she’s at least twenty.” He suddenly declares. “I’ll lock her up in the West tower until she’s that age and only then will I allow her to entertain the idea of a suitor.”

“Are you worried that you’ll only have her for sixteen years?” You chuckle, watching the worry in his eyes as he cradles Maggie closer, stroking her rounded cheeks with gentle thumbs.

“She’s mine right now.” Steve laments, looking down at her as she continues to chew on his finger. “I don’t want to part with her. I’ve waited so long for her for some boy to come take her from me.”

“Oh, my darling.” You chuckle but this time with full sympathy for his heartbreak. “We will have lots of time with her. And even after she marries, she will always be our daughter.”

Steve’s eyes are glued to her little face and he completely doesn’t notice Cook come up to serve your meal. A few roast chickens with potatoes and carrots.

You eat in silence but quickly. Enjoying the sight of him growing more and more enamored with your daughter. Steve doesn’t seem to notice the time slip by as he distracts her with the towel you’d handed him.

She chatters about nothing in her baby speak, drawing smiles and chuckles from your husband.

Finally, you eat your last carrot and slide your chair back.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, rising to your feet knowing you have no reason to be sorry. He’s so in love with her. Luckily, you’ve still managed to eat fast enough that the food is still warm for him. “I should hire a maid to watch her when we eat.”

It’s true that you’ll eventually need to hire someone to take care of her when you must deal with kingdom affairs too. You’re so reluctant to let someone else care for her. Just as Steve claims her passionately, you feel just as he does. She’s yours.

“Not yet.” Steve counters, letting you take her from him. He adjusts in his chair, wipes his hand then proceeds to eat, stealing glances at both of you as you move towards the benches that line the inner edge of the pavilion.

Everything is so perfect. So lovely.

You’re almost content in this moment, with your little girl in your arms and Steve sharing a meal with you. You’re very nearly happy until you look at him and like a raging storm Grandmother’s words destroy your fragile peace once more.

Steve is going to die.

He turns to you and smiles. He smiles at Maggie. He confesses his love for you both with it pouring from his eyes and while your heart aches, you vow to do anything to stop this new threat from taking him away.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come to bed.” Steve pleads.

You glance at him through your looking glass, a hazy image because of the distance from your small table to the bed. The silver is in need of polishing or perhaps replacing. You don’t dare speak this thought aloud though.

Knowing Steve, he’d simply buy you a wall full of mirrors and you can’t have that.

Even blurry he’s a vision, an absolute fucking sight to behold with your daughter at the center of your bed his fingers tickling her tummy as she kicks her little legs excitedly. Her little hands absentmindedly stroking his arm.

He’s on his side, shirtless. His lower body hidden beneath the sheets of your bed as he lays naked underneath.

Despite that delectable fact, your eyes are glued to his gentle smile as he takes his hand and gently strokes the length of Maggie’s little nose. He’s noticed how that lulls her to sleep and does it to her every night to send her off when he’s not busy in meetings.

You finish tending to your hair, braiding it back once again to keep out of the way for your little one. When you turn in your seat to look at them, you find Maggie’s movements slowed. Her eyes are closing, little rosebud lips left open slightly.

She’s already fed and content. Your happy baby, so protected and cherished.

Despite his attentions to your daughter that you’ve spent the last ten minutes watching, when you look at him you find Steve’s eyes on you.

“Come to bed.” He urges you, a small twinkle of desire hidden in the tranquility of these moments he spends with Maggie but stares at you.

“Are you trying for a second?” You ask him, teasing as you rise and move to the bed. You know that look well by now.

Steve’s expression suddenly shift, concern etched across his face.

“Am I rushing you?” He asks, reaching for you as you kneel on the bed and gather your nightdress up so as not to trip on it. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s thinking of this morning, already having had you in his den.

Since you’d given birth, he’s been so careful with you. Even when you’d assured him you were ready to be intimate with him again, he’d hesitated. Worried about hurting you or rushing your body into doing things you should not be doing.

Your smile only grows, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you settle in on Maggie’s right. She doesn’t even stir. Steve’s hand remains around your forearm, fingers gently caressing your skin.

“Why do you laugh?” He asks, his mouth perking at the corners despite his worry.

“You are not like any man I’ve ever met or heard of.” You confess. “Some of the women in Bright Rise, when they still spoke with me, would tell me about their husbands. They were like you were at the beginning of our marriage. Worse, as they took without care for their wives’ wishes. Some of them were always pregnant now that I think about it. Always trailed by a line of toddlers and children.

“The men didn’t care about their wives’ bodies or how their need to satiate their hungers affected the other.” You shake your head. “Some of the women even confessed to me that they took on lovers to find the enjoyment in fucking again.”

“Something you would have been forced to do had I continued in my foolish ways.” Steve suggests, unphased by your still somewhat rural tongue.

“Maybe…in the future. It would have taken me years of neglect to get to that point.” You nod, “Even with Thor, his touch was…unwelcome. He didn’t force me, but I did not feel right accepting his affections. I’m married. Even unhappy that wasn’t something I took lightly.”

Steve’s hand moves up to the top of your arm then slowly he drags it down to your wrist.

“Were you always this considerate? I mean, before me?” You wonder, looking deep into his storm blue eyes. “Say with Margaret? Or, perhaps the other women you were with before we married?”

Steve turns, laying himself on his back.

He releases your arm and gently strokes the length of his chest, fingers dancing across the tuft of blonde hair that rails all the way down below where the blanket ends at his waist. His other hand he shoves underneath his head as he thinks.

You wait patiently for him to be ready to speak. You’ve never asked him about his habits with other women in bed.

He steals several quick looks your way which tells you he’s nervous about answering you. Wary, in case it should prompt a fight. You can see the moment he decides to give in. His lips part a little, they stutter, then he speaks.

“Margaret was strong.” He states plainly, as if that explains it all.

You wait.

“Not that you aren’t!” He rushes to say, sitting up as gently as he can to keep from waking your daughter.

Maggie still stirs and whimpers. You place your hand on her chest and soothe her until she stills again.

“Can you put her in her bed?” You begin to sit up too, ready to do it yourself but Steve is faster, rushing so that you won’t have to.

“Of course! I’ll get her.” He gently scoops her up into his arms then quickly moves around to your side of the bed as you follow them with your eyes, turning your body as they go.

Gently he places her in her crib and tucks her in, shushing and soothing her as she complains then goes silent once more.

She isn’t too close, but you can still see her from your spot on the bed. Steve double checks by looking at you to see if you can still see her.

When he’s satisfied that you can, he moves back to you, crawling over you and stopping to give the tip of your nose a kiss as he goes before plopping himself down on his side once again. This time he reaches for you, grabby hands tracing the shape of your curves as he pulls you a little closer.

“What I meant, is that Margaret was willful. She knew what she wanted, and she made certain that everyone else knew so too.” He clears his throat, suddenly nervous again. “In bed, she was just as certain of herself.

“Even though I made the first move, she was the one who took charge in our physical relationship. I knew that if something were to go wrong or if she was tired or too ill to be with me intimately, she would tell me.”

You listen without judgement and try to keep your face clear of all emotions other than the love you have for him. Even through this conversation, your heart pounds with dread as it repeats Grandmother’s words over and over, reminding you that every moment with Steve is precious.

“I never had to worry about Margaret’s body because she never had to compromise it for me. I did worry for her, but not in the same way.” Steve says, probably thinking about the risks that Margaret would have taken as part of the Avengers.

“And the other women?” You wonder.

“There weren’t many.” Steve assures you, looking down at your chest in embarrassment. “Only two.”

“You were grieving Margaret.” You nod, understanding. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t a man.”

Steve is silent for a moment, resting his head in his hand as he uses his elbow to prop himself up. With his other hand he traces nervous circles in the blanket between you.

“They were visiting ladies. Ladies who, like Margaret, knew what they wanted.” Steve sighs the lunges softly towards you, pushing you onto your back so suddenly it makes you gasp and then laugh.

As he settles his body halfway over yours, he smiles down at you.

His hands caress the sides of your face before he trails one hand along your sides, grabbing you with intent. You can feel the desire in his touch.

“Court ladies are all playing a game. It’s a language they speak that you don’t know.” Steve sighs heavily. “A set of rules that I’m glad you do not understand. You are nothing like them and I love you for it.”

“They had husbands?” You realize.

“Yes.” Steve nods. “Men who are too distracted by their own infidelities or too busy grasping at power to pay their wives any mind. With both of them it was only one night. It came and went so quickly I can barely remember them. I don’t even think I could tell you their names.”

His face grows solemn, sad as if remembering a painful memory that has since lost its sting but not the emotion of sorrow. “I didn’t enjoy myself. I was driven by lust, but I didn’t even…I made sure they were satisfied and left it at that.”

“Mm. You felt guilty.” You nod, understanding as you watch his full lips. The lower is so much bigger than the upper. You reach up and trace it, loving the soft plumpness of it.

“Does it not make you jealous?” He wonders, relaxing more of his weight onto you. “Does it not upset you?”

You meet his eyes again, a smile stretched across your face. You can see that he wants to know you’re jealous. He wants to know that you want him as much as he wants you.

So much progress…is this truly the man you married?

“Only as much as it would upset any wife to hear her beloved husband talk about his past adventures in fucking other women.”

Steve groans and buries his face into the side of your neck, wrapping his arms around you as you also wrap yours around his shoulders. You chuckle, caressing the back of his head.

“So, the concern is not normal?” You realize, feeling better but also worried that you’re not seeing the real Steve. That maybe he’s acting this way with you while acting a completely different way with everyone else.

Is this not who he is?

“No, the concern is normal.” Steve says, muffled against your skin, making you feel almost instantly better.

He pulls back to look down at you again.

“What I’m saying is that every woman that I have been with until you has never given me cause to be concerned. I didn’t hurt them the way I hurt you.” He frowns. “I didn’t take what they weren’t willing to give.”

You look away this time, the solemnity coming from you now. The shift of conversation making your heart ache. When you speak, your voice is quiet, subdued with the reminder of your wedding night.

“I wasn’t unwilling.” You correct him because you hadn’t been. Not that first night or any night after.

Your line was not one clearly drawn, certainly. You’d slept with him out of duty but that hadn’t meant you didn’t want to. He’s the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life. Of course, you’d wanted him.

You hadn’t told him no. You’d only told him to slow down. You know that for him, for Nat, for everyone who found out—that slow down had been enough. It should have been enough to stop him.

“You know what I mean.” Steve says, placing both his hands on the sides of your face to tilt your head back until you look at him. “I wounded you. I took something that was not mine to take.”

“But it was yours to take.” You correct him again, and he growls in his throat at you before shaking his head, the pain leaving his eyes to be replaced by admiration.

“I can still feel you, trembling and sobbing in my arms. I was disgusted with myself. I couldn’t believe that I could do that to anyone. And you were so…so kind and gentle. So eager to please and I took advantage of that.” Steve confesses. All of his thoughts spilling out of him like water. “I had turned this beautiful, sweet princess into a sobbing, fearful, and wounded creature. I was so consumed by my grief over Margaret and my anger at having to marry again when I wasn’t ready to do so that I wanted it over. In that moment, I didn’t care about the sweet woman beneath me.

“And even after I hurt you, when I came to see you, despite your fear your only concern was for the tears I shed.”

It takes a moment to find your voice, but you do. You swallow hard.

“I’d never seen a man cry.” You confess. “Much less a king.”

“I meant every tear.” Steve insists. “If I could take that night back, I would. If I could redo every night since, I would. I am concerned for you above anyone else, because in you I saw my darkest self and I never want to be that man for you again. I never want to hurt you.”

The two of you lapse into emotional but pleasant silence. Both hearts beating strongly against each other as his chest is pressed firmly against your own.

At last, you smile, a chuckle spilling from your lips as you reach up and tuck his hair behind his ear. It’s getting long again.

“Have you always made these long speeches? Or is that reserved for me as well?” You check, mostly just teasing.

Steve’s lips curl up, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I make sure to give every pretty woman I see a lengthy speech. Whether they’re enjoyable is a different matter.”

You bite your lip, glaring at him but only in jest. Quickly he dips down to kiss your lips, letting it linger for a moment before he pulls back only a bit so that when he speaks, his lips are fluttering against your own.

“My declarations of love, however, are entirely yours alone.” He whispers. “Tell me to stop and I will obey, my Queen.”

His right hand moves down, searching until it finds the hem of your nightdress which he begins to tug up until he finds the top of your leg. He traces the dip of flesh there, tickling your skin in search of your already yearning core.

As his fingers make contact, you gasp into his slightly open mouth and it draws his attention back up to your face. He licks your lips, just a gentle flick of the tip of his tongue before he kisses you, sinking it into your depths where you meet his eager kiss with your own.

You moan quietly, a whimper of yearning as his fingers spread your folds and begin to explore you. The noises his hand makes absolutely sinful.

Eager for his touch, you bring your knees up. You spread your legs for him, and he pulls out of the kiss to slide down along your body. He does down, down, down until he’s settled between your legs.

He grabs one and throws it over his left shoulder, then the other over his right. He kisses your thighs, trailing his tongue in small circles before every gentle pucker. The anticipation curls your toes as he moves closer and closer to your cunt.

“Steve…” You whisper, aware of the baby asleep in her crib and your need to keep quiet so that she can sleep.

He dives in, his tongue making one long swipe of your dripping core.

You gasp, curling up towards him as your body is sent into shivers.

He grabs hold of your thighs roughly, pulling you hard against his face. Opening his mouth, he suckles on your clit, the gentle sound of his sucking filling your limbs with fire.

As much as you enjoy his mouth where it is, there’s an impatience that wages war within you.

After months of waiting to enjoy sleeping with him, now that you do, it makes you eager to have him within you.

“Steve, please…” You beg, reaching down and tugging on his hair.

He likes that, growling a little at the lusty whisper that is your plea.

Pressing kisses along the length of your body while he shoves your nightdress up higher and higher, he finally helps you pull it off before taking your breasts within his mouth.

His lips are soft against them, gentle in their suckling as he knows how painful you can find it now.

When you whimper from the soreness, he steals a quick look at you to make sure you aren’t in too much pain before he simply kisses them around the nipple.

You run your hand over his hair, a promise that someday he’ll be able to enjoy your breasts again. He reads your reassurance but dismisses it as he rushes to meet your lips in a demanding kiss.

Without warning he pushes into you. He stretches you, filling you up so pleasantly that you throw your head back but swallow the moan you’d normally release.

Fuck…Your mind supplies, nails raking along the scarred flesh of his shoulders.

“Fuck…” Steve groans into your ear, stopping once he’s buried within you. Great minds think alike, you guess.

“Don’t stop.” You beg and wrap your left arm around his shoulders while the other reaches down as far as it can to grab as much of his bum as possible and pull him close.

He starts slowly, letting you both relish in the silky way his cock slides out of you then back in.

“Kiss me.” You tell him, needing his mouth to silence the moans you feel bound to make.

He obliges, roughly meeting your lips with a frenzied and lustful kiss as he loses himself within you.

He doesn’t pound into you the way he did at the cottage. He knows he shouldn’t, so he doesn’t. Even though you want it, you’re grateful for his forethought and instead focus on the way he seems to know which angles to adjust so that his cock not only pierces you but presses against the most sensitive spots inside of you.

He moves faster, reaching down to massage your clit as he kisses his way down your neck.

The moment is sudden, and it surprises you when your body goes tense for a moment as your climax washes over you.

You pull Steve down against you, gripping him hard as you hold him tight while your body is overcome.

Steve continues to push into you. Faster as he realizes that you’ve reached your limit. He grunts as he picks up speed, tracing the shape of your back down to your ass where he takes hold of it, fingers digging into the muscle.

He pulls up a little, searching for your lips with his own, tongue delving into your mouth as you give him what he wants. Both of you moan into each other, muffled and needy until Steve’s body stutters and his heat spills into you over and over.

He thrusts with each burst of ecstasy that overtakes him. His groans grow lazy. His body loose. Your own is already numb and you go still beneath him as he trails lazy kisses along the misty skin of your neck and shoulders.

He sighs, laying his head against your clavicle where he relaxes on top of you, your hands gently stroking his back.

You steal a glance at Maggie in her crib, but she’s sound asleep. It relaxes you to know she’s unbothered and without meaning to, you and Steve both fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

A loud thumping makes you twitch. It sounds distant but it startles you anyway.

In your arms, something large moves.

Your sleepy mind reminds you that it’s Steve and you sigh in your semi-sleep as your hands enjoy the feel of his hot body still resting on top of your own.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The thumping returns, this time louder and clearer.

A quiet whine to your right wakes you more quickly than the thumping and like you’ve been stunned with Thor’s lightning, you spring up from the bed, quickly sliding out from beneath Steve who also whines at your moving but peeks up at you as you rise.

“Whereyewgoin?” He asks, still mostly asleep.

“Go back to sleep.” You whisper to him from beside Maggie’s crib.

BOOM! BOOM-BOOM!

The thumping, which is actually a knocking on your door you realize, repeats.

Maggie whines again and you frown.

“Who’s there?” Steve asks towards the door, his voice more annoyed then upset.

“It’s Agatha, your Majesty.” One of the guards outside speaks.

“Don’t speak for me.” Grandmother’s voice grumbles.

“I’m sorry, your Majesty.” The guard says nervously, probably worried about the knocking, which means that was Grandmother and not the guard.

You look at Steve as Maggie begins to wake, her cries soft but rising as you continue to try and soothe her but now only halfheartedly.

Fear grips you, stealing you of your voice as you stare at your husband. Your little girl’s cries grow louder as she wakes but you’re frozen in place, terrified of what Grandmother could not wait until the morning to tell you.

“What, my flower?” Steve suddenly asks, sliding to the edge of the bed towards you.

“I…I should see what she wants.” You whisper, afraid to speak any louder despite your daughter already being awake.

“Go.” Steve urges you, grabbing your nightdress and moving towards you. He offers it to you as he reaches you. “I’ll put Maggie back to sleep.”

You take the nightdress with trembling hands. If Steve notices he doesn’t say so, but you don’t think he does as he’s already lifting Maggie from the crib, moving back towards the bed.

You dress in a hurry, then move to grab Steve’s robe as it’s closer and pull it over your body.

You’re tying it closed as the door opens upon your approach and find Grandmother pacing the hallway behind the two guards assigned to keep you and Maggie safe.

After what happened with Pierce, Steve is taking no chances.

“Grandmother?” You check, voice stronger but still just as terrified.

“We must speak.” She tells you, her voice strong and her eyes full of severity.

With a tentative nod you have her follow you into Steve’s den next door, shutting the door securely before you move into the room and offer her a seat in front of Steve’s desk.

“No.” She waves your offer off, pacing as you take a seat because your legs are weak again. “I have found a solution.”

“So quickly?” You gasp, hands balled into tight fists on your lap as you watch her pace.

“The sooner the better I would think in this situation. This is nothing like I have ever done before.” She admits. “It will take all of my power to do it.”

“It…will it hurt you?” You wonder, worried for her withered body.

“Probably not.” She shakes her head. “No way to know for sure. But it’s something I’m willing to die for.”

“What?” You gasp, suddenly terrified of losing her.

Finally, Grandmother stops her pacing and moves to stand before you.

“This threat is greater than I first thought.” She admits, slowly sitting herself down in the seat beside yours, turning it so that she can face you. “We cannot allow this power to grow. We can either stop it here, right now. Or we can let your husband stop it later. If we allow him to do it, it will take his life. There is no doubt in my mind of that. There will be others. He will not be the only to perish.

“Stopping this threat now is for everyone’s benefit and if I must pay with my life to save many others, I will do so willingly.” She declares.

“I can’t ask you to do that.” You shake your head, your emotions already raw.

“You’re not asking me, girl. I’m telling you that I must do it. I have already made my choice, now the only choice left to make is your own.” She fixes her gaze on you and you find you cannot look away.

“My own choice?”

“You asked me to save him. To ensure that he will live, a great sacrifice must be made. Separate from my own. I will provide the power, the strength for the incantation. Something else must be given for it to succeed.” Grandmother explains.

Your mind springs into action, thinking of the one thing you have of worth to give. Your life.

“So, I’ll…I’ll die?” You whisper, already in sorrow for leaving your husband and child.

“No.” Grandmother says. “No, I’m certain you will live.”

“Then what?”

“The price is impossible to know. It could be anything.” Grandmother gestures at you, looking you over from head to toe. “It could be your sight. Your ability to hear. Your voice. Your ability to walk. Whatever it is, it will be a great price to pay. Only you can choose to pay it but unless you do, I cannot go forward with the spell.”

“C-can I choose? Can I decide what it is that I sacrifice?” You hope, but what would you choose? What do you possibly have that could be worth your husband’s life?

“No. The magics will choose what to take. It will be equal to what it is you ask for, but only the magics can choose what that value is.” Grandmother explains.

This is impossible. This is unbelievable. This is torture.

You have to pay a price without knowing what it will be?

You know that your answer is yes. You’ll pay it. Whatever the price, you will give it willingly if it will save Steve’s life.

“I will pay it.” You nod. “Of course, I will. Yes.”

Grandmother takes your hand and squeezes it, a knowing look in her eyes. “I knew you would.”

She rises and you follow. Your hands feel weak but with the decision now made, you now it’s right and feel settled that you know this will soon be resolved.

Before the old woman can make it to the door, you reach out and grab her wrist, stopping her before she can leave.

“Grandmother…” You begin, waiting for her to turn.

She doesn’t. “Don’t get sentimental.” She says, voice strong though you’re sure that you can hear a small sadness in her tone.

“I want to thank you…for taking care of me. For loving me. I know that you could not always be there when I was young but you’re here now. Thank you.” You whisper, scared to speak louder in case you begin to cry. “I-I just wanted you to know. In case I cannot say it later or if you-”

You can’t even speak the words. She won’t die. She can’t.

With one withered hand, she reaches down and places it over your own. She gives you a squeeze, her hands trembling but reassuring.

“I don’t know when the spell will take effect. Go. Sleep soundly. Hold them close.” Grandmother advises then pushes your hand off her arm and disappears into the sleeping castle.

The very short walk back to your bedroom feels as if it takes forever. The guard make no comment as they open your door for you and you wander in, eyes searching for the loves of your life.

You find Steve snuggled up close to Maggie, his head pressed against the side of her own, his hand on her tummy and his eyes closed.

Maggie is not sleeping. She’s staring up at the ceiling with her little legs kicking gently as she coos and babbles her baby speak. One of her little hands is closed tightly around Steve’s finger, holding tight. As you move towards them, you notice how her hand doesn’t even close around his finger completely. She’s so small still. So fragile.

What if you can’t hold her after paying the price? What if you can’t hear her babble? What if you can’t see her little face or the way her eyes light up and her toothless smile spreads across her face as she spots you?

Just as she does now, she lets out a louder “Goo…” as she spots you and her legs go into a frenzy as she flails her limbs frantically.

You don’t want to cry but you feel the rush of sorrow overwhelm you. Quickly, before Steve can see, you drop onto the bed still wearing his robe and pull Maggie towards you. You hug her and turn her towards you, burying your face against her tiny chest.

Her little hands grab at you, whatever part of your head they can, and she pulls your ears, tugs your hair, scratches against your cheek but you don’t care. You inhale her scent, memorizing it just in case you lose the ability to smell.

After you’re sure you could never forget it, you tickle her sides until she’s giggling lightly, small bubbles and whines of amusement. It’s not a full laugh. She hasn’t done that for you yet. What if you never get to hear it?

You memorize this one anyway, put it away and lock it up within your heart where you know you will always be able to recall the pure sound of her innocence.

It takes every ounce of will power within you to stifle your desire to sob. Still, you manage it and when you’re certain you can face him, you pull back a bit to look at your daughter’s beautiful face.

She’s all Steve. You hardly recognize anything in her looks of you. She’s gorgeous. Pretty blonde hair, just like Steve’s only slightly darker in shade.

Her eyes are a piercing blue. Lighter than Steve’s but just as observant. She watches you, reaches out for your face where she places a small hand on your nose then slides it down to your lips which she casually grabs and releases before her eyes find her hand and she brings it to her mouth to taste.

You watch her for so long, you’re sure that it must nearly be morning, but the sky continues to be dark outside the windows of your room.

You sing to your little one. A quit lullaby that you hope she’ll remember if you can never speak to her again. You tell her you love her and sing some more.

She drifts off eventually, her little mouth open as she sleeps.

Finally, you turn your eyes on Steve, yearning to see him almost to an unnatural amount. You have never doubted it but in this moment as your eyes find him staring right back at you, you realize how much you truly love him. How much he’s changed your life.

Your world has grown since you met him. He’s changed you forever.

Will the sacrifice be your life? Will you be leaving them behind? Will you be wounding him again, just as Margaret had?

Even though Grandmother said it wouldn’t be, you can’t help but wonder and worry that you might very well be spending the last moments you’ll ever have with him and Maggie now.

What if you close your eyes and they should never open again?

At least she would have him. Maggie wouldn’t be alone. She would have her father. And he would have her.

If by some chance her father should also leave her behind, she’d have Nat and Bucky. She’d have Sam and Peter. She’d have the entire team to care for her. Father and Mother would probably try and take her to Malibia.

She would never need to worry about her meals or whether she could survive frigid winter temperatures. She would be protected and loved even if you aren��t around to make sure she is.

Steve blinks slowly. He’s sleepy but he’s trying to stay awake because you’re awake.

You’re not sure if he can tell that something is wrong, but you push yourself up towards him. You’re careful as you hover over Maggie, reaching to hook your hand behind his neck as he also pushes himself up and towards you.

You kiss him, slow and smooth until your heart begins to ache and your hand squeezes around his neck.

You kiss him with a bit more fervor and though he returns it, when you pull away, his brow is narrowed in confusion. Subtle concern.

“I love you.” You whisper to him, reaching down to trace the shape of his bottom lip with your thumb. You kiss him again. “I love you, forever.”

It’s a promise you have every intention of honoring. Will he love you even if you can’t talk? Will he love you if you can’t hear? Will he still love you if you are not the woman you are now?

You know that you can overcome anything. You can embrace a new way of living so long as it means that Steve and Maggie are safe. But will he see it that way? Will he love you for the woman you will become?

“You’re my entire world, Y/N.” He whispers back almost as if he can hear your thoughts and he wants to put you at ease.

His lips curl up at the corns softly as he blinks even slower than before as sleep begins to pull him under. “You and Maggie are my life.”

Your lip trembles as his eyes shut and do not open again, his head falling to his pillow.

“I love you…so…” He trails off, his words lost to dreams.

You stare at him and then Maggie. All night you stare at them, memorizing the way they breathe and smell. If you’re going to be changed forever, you’re going to remember this moment and cherish it until the day you die.

You will never forget it.

~~~~~~~~~~

1 Year & 3 Months Later

The sun is beaming. It’s strong. July is hot, even more so than normal. You groan as you look up to the sky and shield your eyes from the blinding light.

For a moment your mind goes hazy, full of fog. Something changes as it always does. Something shifts.

Something tugs at the corners of your mind. Something blurry and demanding. You get this way every single time you come here.

Every time you fill the wooden bucket, there’s a flash of something familiar.

You focus on the tug, allowing it to unearth the secret that eludes you.

There’s a quick flash that you don’t quite see. A golden hue. A storm blue circle.

Then your bucket overflows and the water splashes your feet, drenching your newly mended shoes.

They’re too small for your feet but it’s all you have.

“Damn.” You sigh, grunting as you lift the bucket and place it on the damp bank of the river.

Across the barren field, your little hut just at the opposite edge nestled into a grove of forest trees, Bright Rise begins to wake.

Another day, another scramble to find a way to keep your belly full.

“Time to check the traps.” You sigh, groaning as you lift the bucket and begin the trek back to your little hovel in the only village you’ve ever known.

The place you were born, but most definitely not home.

Your heart tells you that somewhere out there…somewhere else, your true home waits.

(THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! One more to go!)

[maxineswritingcenter]

The Ghost of Winter - Bucky Barnes x fem!reader part 4

Legacy agent, (Y/N), has been trained her entire life by a mystery man. When they learn that HYDRA has infiltrated SHIELD, she must fight to stop them. But could she betray the trust of her friends for her teacher?

--------

Making their way through the crowd was nerve-wracking. With all of SHIELD's secrets revealed, they could be recognized. If she was recognized, maybe no big deal. Well... Maybe now it would be a big deal since she was technically on the run with a war criminal. The war criminal was the reason why she was nervous. In a matter of hours, everyone in the world knew who the Winter Soldier was. They knew he was a trained assassin sleeper agent who murdered countless people.

Thankfully, Fury had been prepared for everyone to go underground. Seeing that they made it out alive, he had made new identities for each of the squad. Not that she was going to be using this new identity much. Only using the credit card to buy a thing here and there. The first purchase was bandages and clothes for both of them.

The next stop was the Smithsonian. Their current location. The soldier glanced around, his jaw tight.

"Why did you bring me here?" He whispered in her ear as they walked.

"Because I'm gonna show you who you are." She said back, smiling genuinely to keep up appearances that they were having a normal conversation, "And trust me, you'll prefer this over my constant babbling and the scrapbook I made when I was twelve."

His stormy blue eyes glanced down at her with an almost unimpressed look, "You smile too much." He turned and started following the signs that would lead them to the Captain America exhibit. She followed close behind.

Was she smiling too much? How could she not? She was standing next to her hero and was given the opportunity to show off all her knowledge about him. But this was about baby steps.

"Maybe you should smile more, sourpuss." She caught up to him, "We're trying to blend in-"

"I don't need to blend in."

"Okay, cool, Mr. American Enemy number one as of twenty-two hours ago. Your face is a Google search away. So just..." She sighed, hesitantly slipping her hand under his arm to rest at his elbow, “Play the part.” He stared at her hand, then back in her eyes. She thought for a moment that he was going to grab her wrist and break it, but he just stared at her.

“Fine.” He kept his hands in his pockets, while he had taken the leather gloves, he figured that it would draw less attention if he just had his hands in the pockets of his dark green jacket. The way he looked now, he looked normal. A black Henley under a flannel under a jacket. She had bought the items separately for him to choose from. She had heard somewhere that multiple layers had the same effect as a weighted blanket, it was a security thing. 

As they walked through, they saw something that had once been a place of wonder. She remembered walking hand and hand with her father through the exhibit, standing on her tiptoes to read the plaques, her father practically holding her back from getting too close to the costumes on display. 

Barnes was staring past all of this and staring directly at a display. This display pictures him shortly after the formation of the Howling Commandos. It gave a short - too short- description of his life before the war, his enlistment, and of his work in the Commandos as a marksman. At the bottom of the display was the text: Bucky Barnes 1917 - 1944. His birth to his death. Or at least when he fell from the train.

(Y/N) glanced up at the man. While his hair covered most of his features, she could see his mouth. His full lips formed a tight line.

"Barnes-"

"Tell me about them." He said, "My family."

"That might require a little trip."

Well. Her time to shine.

-

Barnes sat in the passenger seat, his head down, and arms crossed over his chest. He seemed to have some trust in her to let her drive; if she were a different agent (maybe a better agent), she would have brought him in. But that would probably be his death sentence. They would lock him in a jail cell or kill him before trying to help him.

They pulled up outside of the storage unit, walking towards the lockers. He watched intently as she looked through her keyring, checking their surroundings in case anyone appeared.

"There we go." She smiled, unlocking the padlock, then bending down to lift the door open. Inside the unit were stacks of boxes, black marker labeling them. It was bitter sweet, seeing her dad's handwriting again.

Looking up and down, she searched for the correct time period.

"Alright, here we are." She said, her voice faltering slightly when she noticed how high it was. A shadow moved past her, and the box was presented to her in Barnes' arms.

With a mumbled thanks, she opened the box and lifted out a stack of papers stapled together. Barnes narrowed his eyes at the paper, seeing a sticker stuck to the top next to her name.

(Y/N) Coulson, Mrs. Hopewell, grade 6.

"You were eleven when you wrote this?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

She smiled weakly, "If it makes you feel better, the page requirement was only one. I wrote seven, and I have pictures. Spent my allowance getting them printed at the library."

Barnes

Before setting the box down, the soldier glanced inside, seeing a picture of a man with a younger (Y/N), both smiling brightly. This man looked kind, harmless, and so much pride in his daughter. He was probably just happy that she was back from her torture.

The Soldier had just come out of cryostasis when he was made aware of HYDRA's experiments with the children. Even under their control, he knew that what they were doing was wrong. He was a part of a task force meant to... Get rid of the evidence. His mission was (Y/N) Coulson. They wanted him because he could get in and get out without being seen. He had been watching the little girl for weeks beforehand, never getting a clear shot since her father was always close by.

So when the opportunity came, he found her. In the dark of night, she was all alone, training.

The gun held tightly in his metal hand; he approached her. She was on the ground, crying into her bloody knees. That was when he stopped, not hesitated, stopped. This was a child trying to learn to protect herself. She had a chance to live without the influence of HYDRA. He could never escape, not while they had the red book.

His shadow made her look up, seeing him. He could hear her small heart beating rapidly. He barked at her to stand in Russian.

“Please...” Her small voice said through tears, “I just want to see my daddy.”

He had to make the choice then. Did he carry out his mission, or would he spare this child's life? The choice was difficult. When the handlers found out he had failed, his punishments would be great. But if he was right about her, that with the right training, his training, she could take down HYDRA. Pain now would be payment enough for freedom later.

(Y/N)

"Alright." (Y/N) flipped through the pages to get to the pictures in the back. She handed him the papers, too embarrassed to say that she had the whole speech memorized.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You were born on March tenth nineteen-seventeen in Shelbyville, Indiana. Your father was George Barnes, and your mother's name was Winifred. You have three siblings: Rebecca, Frances, and Mary. You moved to Brooklyn shortly after your mother died. It was there you met Steve Rogers." She glanced at him, seeing him deep in thought, staring down at the pictures of his family, "Ringing any bells?"

"Keep going."

"Your dad was in the military; all his buddies on the base loved you, and you became their unofficial mascot at the barracks. Apparently, you were really good at smuggling stuff in that they couldn't get."

"Where did you get all this information?" He tilted his head in confusion.

She chuckled nervously. "So, my dad worked in government. Top secret government. So, he may have given me a file." He nodded, so she continued.

"You enlisted in the 107th after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and you were sent into Italy. Then..." She swallowed thickly. "Then you were captured by HYDRA and tortured, experimented on." She took a deep, shaky breath. "Maybe this is irrelevant, but I think they chose you for a reason."

"What's the reason?"

"Steve was... Is your best friend. You were the only person he had left after his folks died. I believe their understanding was that if it ever came down to him versus you? He would die. Because he would never kill you. And they were right." She leaned against the cinder block wall. The full gravity of her own words setting in. Steve had been shot three times. And according to the news she had been seeing, Insights hellicarriers had crashed. No one survived who was inside could have possibly survived. Steve was-

“He’s alive.” Barnes said, “I pulled you both from the river. He was alive when I left him.” 

“Barnes-”

“Bucky.” He corrected her. It seemed like ever since he had been out of their control, he wanted to be called the name that Steve called him the day they had found out who the Winter Soldier was. 

“Bucky, why did you take me? Why wouldn’t you take him? He’s your friend, he would be able to help you more than I ever could.”

He scoffed, “Right, because kidnapping old stars and stripes seemed like a great idea.” 

“You still kidnapped a government agent.”

“Right, a government agent for SHIELD that no longer exists.” He sat up straight at the same time she did; the faint sound of tires screeching sent them both into high alert.

"Let's go." She said, setting the paper back into the box. They rushed out, slamming the storage door shut and adding a new lock, one that could only be opened with a laser. The fact was that Stark had too much respect for her father to give the feds the tech to open it.

They ran to the car, pulling out of the storage park before the black vans were able to find them.

-

Steve

The serum that had given Steve his power had also given him accelerated healing capabilities. So the busted lip he had that morning was nothing more than a raised bump, and by the end of the day, it would be nothing but a memory.

He stood in front of the CTV cameras that had caught glimpses of Bucky and (Y/N) at the Smithsonian, and then a tip had led them to a storage unit in up town Manhattan.

"Well, that's them." Sam said, arms crossed as he stood beside the Captain, "Do you think she really got brainwashed by HYDRA?"

Steve stared at the screen, seeing (Y/N) holding Bucky's arm as they walked through the exhibit that had been created for him.

"No." His eyes widened, "No, she's trying to jog his memory. And if anyone could besides me? It would be her." According to intel, (Y/N) owned a storage locker which probably held both hers and her father's collection of Howling Commando propaganda.

"Then why wouldn't she bring him here?" Sam asked, "Can't Stark and Dr. Banner make some sort of memory serum?"

Steve shook his head, the corner of his lips pulling up slightly, "Not that I know is possible. I think for right now, we have to wait until they pop up again. Give her a chance to get him back."

Sam nodded, "Right... Well, I gotta get a couple things done at the VA. But I'll see you at Stark's party tonight." He patted Steve on the arm. He gave him a curt nod and then went back to staring at the screens. He tapped on the control panel in front of him and spread his fingers to zoom in on (Y/N)'s face.

Once everything had come to an end, Steve walked through the halls of Stark Tower, searching for one person. One person he knew could use some saving right now. When he found (Y/N), she was sitting against a wall, the paneling above her head looked like it had taken some strong punches. He took her in, seeing that her breathing was shaky at best, her eyes were red and her knuckles were bloody. He kneeled down in front of her, trying to meet her eyes. While they were looking forward, it almost seemed like she was looking through him. 

“(Y/N)? You still with us?” His voice was cautious. 

“Loki killed my dad.” She said, her voice sounding like she had gargled nails. 

“I know. Thor has taken him to Asgard to answer for his crimes.” 

“He killed my dad.” She said louder this time, “Loki killed my dad.” 

“(Y/N)-”

“H-he killed my dad. He killed my dad!” Her voice rose, her eyes glossy. He knew this feeling, total and soul-crushing loss. He lost his parents, he lost his best friend, and when he woke up after decades under the ice, almost everyone he had ever known was dead. 

“I know.” He held her shoulders, trying to steady her shaking, “I’m sorry.” That’s when she finally broke down, sobbing. He had never heard such a heart breaking sound. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight, trying to ground her to reality. No matter how much that reality pained her. She sat limply there for a while, sobbing into his shoulder. But after a while, her bloody and bruised hands found their way to his back, clinging to him for dear life.

-------

Read part 5 here!

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[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Here’s a pet tax!! This times he’s nuzzling against my arm!

Btw here’s your excuse to talk more about Dice. Or,,,any of Fling Posse! Have fun!

Oh, you enabler, you. Thank you for this opportunity and for the bunny picture.

A collection of thoughts on Dice and why he may very well be the most important character to Ramuda. Put under a cut for some slight TDD spoilers.

Dice’s Personality Traits

Compared to the other two nosy Nancies that make up Fling Posse, Dice himself is the king of minding his own business. While he does display definite interest in his friend’s lives - see asking Riou about his favorite food in the ARB event “Riou’s Kitchen” or discussing Gentarou’s latest story in FP/M chapter 7 - he tends to avoid discussing topics that make others feel uncomfortable.

This can make Dice appear oblivious, but Dice is much more emotionally observant than most characters give him credit for. Let’s take chapter 14 of FP/M for a great example of this. I’ll link it here, and I encourage you to read through it again paying careful attention to his facial expressions.

Dice begins the chapter deep in thought and adopts a solemn facial expression for the next few pages. Something is clearly preoccupying him.

However, the moment Ramuda appears, Dice begins acting much more animated and begins playing along with Ramuda in an attempt to cheer him up. Note that Dice observed Ramuda acting out of sorts for the entire battle in the previous chapters and hasn’t seen Ramuda awake since (according to chapter 15). He’s likely greatly concerned. It is arguable that his reactions are entirely food motivated...

... except for the fact that he returns to his previously somber state the moment Ramuda is no longer looking at him. Dice also doesn’t immediately accept Gentarou’s suggestion that Ramuda is trying to keep up appearances for their sake.

At the restaurant, Dice begins to play up the cheerful glutton again and attempts to directly cheer up Ramuda by operating under the assumption that Ramuda is disappointed by their loss.

When Ramuda goes to leave, the art emphasizes Gentarou’s concern, but the silhouette of Dice (and the lack of any bulging cheeks or cups carried up to his mouth) in the final panel indicates that he has once again returned to his more serious state. In this scene, Dice recognizes that something has gone terribly wrong.

Each member of Fling Posse is a performer putting on an act, and as noted by Ramuda’s reaction to Gentarou invading his privacy, Ramuda feels most comfortable when each actor plays his part. Dice is aware of this and thus acts the cheerful idiot for Ramuda in these scenes because he recognizes that Ramuda needs that stability.

If I may demonstrate another quick example, take a look at the scene from FP/M chapter 12 and compare how Dice acts without (first image) and with a visibly distressed Ramuda (other images) in the room.

The FP/M mangaka also says (in the afterword of volume 3), “I think [Dice] might have a good poker face and be able to control his facial expressions even when he’s flat out broke. But his posse doesn’t seem to understand that.“ Dice’s poker face is a boon here when he can use it to help the ones he cares about.

For Dice does care very greatly. Dice minds his own business and doesn’t make any overt actions as long as his friends are capable of handling situations on their own. However, the moment he recognizes that they are in over their heads, he takes swift and decisive action (which, in turn, can be harmful to others).

Take this scene in FP/M chapter 10 as a great example. Prior to Gentarou grabbing Hifumi, Dice was firmly a bystander, but he immediately leaps in when the situation escalates. Notice that he removes Hifumi from harm’s way but also serves a shield for Gentarou and focuses his attention on Gentarou’s wellbeing.

He then offers Gentarou physical reassurance with a hand on the shoulder and an out to the situation, which would have allowed Gentarou to move on as if his mask had never slipped if it were not for Hifumi’s next comment. Dice also shuts down Hifumi before it can escalate any further.

Although Hifumi is attempting to justify himself because he doesn’t understand Gentarou’s reaction and doesn’t see what he did wong, Dice recognizes that this statement also denies Gentarou the right to express his feelings on something which is clearly an enormous deal to him.

By labeling Hifumi’s comments as “disrespect” and “hurting people” while simultaneously stressing that this topic is “important”, he allows Gentarou the right to feel upset at Hifumi’s comments. He also continues to use defensive posture in order to keep Gentarou physically safe (which must be an intentional choice on the artist’s part, as Hifumi mirrors this pose a few pages later as he begins to defend Doppo). Even though Dice’s reaction crosses the line when he, in turn, begins to hurt someone else, removing Gentarou from the situation, validating his feelings, and making Hifumi stop is exactly what Gentarou needed but was unable to provide for himself.

Dice is a damn good friend and an exceptional person. If you ever find a friend like Dice, don’t let them get away from you.

Saving Ramuda’s Life

Let’s switch gears for a moment to take a look at what goes on in Ramuda’s mind. As a disposable pawn for the Party of Words, Ramuda has an atypical view of the world. He genuinely enjoys the company of others and can form real bonds, but his primary motivation in life is fully self-centered: keep himself alive. Every order he receives comes with the caveat of, “Failure brings death.” The fear of death is enough to drive him to betray his closest friends in TDD, even Jakurai, who clearly means a lot to him.

^ TDD chapter 13. Ramuda receives an order from Ichijiku to handle the Jakurai side of things in the TDD breakup and reflects on the time that Jakurai saw who his true personality and not only accepted it but welcomed it.

Bear with me if you’ve seen me talk about this before, but Ramuda’s ability to feel emotions is considered a fluke. Ichijiku describes it as a “malfunction” and a “nuisance” for his job. She also describes Ramuda himself as a “failure” and “worthless”, sometimes to Ramuda’s face.

Ramuda internalizes this. Notice’s Ramuda’s reactions to slipping up and having an emotional outburst in TDD chapter 9 and FP/M chapter 8.

The former of these features Ramuda looking frightened (either due to concern of losing his life for revealing more than he should have done or fear that Jakurai will consider him as “worthless” as everyone else does), insulting himself, and self-harming. While the insults and self-harm are as stereotypically cute as the rest of Ramuda’s facade, the core idea remains that he believes showing his true personality is as idiotic and worth of punishment as everyone else believes. The lack of self-worth is ingrained in him.

The slightly more grown-up Ramuda in FP/M does not react as dramatically, but I really want to draw your attention to the question, “Was I spooky?” It’s worded in a deliberately silly manner because of Ramuda’s speech style, but he is asking his supposed friends if the real version of himself is frightening. Tell me, Dice. Does seeing me scare you? Do you want to run away now before it’s too late? It’s an innocent question on the surface level, but considering the about face his last friend turned after learning more about Ramuda’s real life and job, this question demonstrates that Ramuda’s view of himself has hardly changed for the positive since then.

(Also please observe Dice’s reaction. The pause is him getting into character in order to cheer up Ramuda after a clear emotional upset.)

Therefore Ramuda is a person running entirely on self-preservation but with no sense of self-worth. He sees himself largely the same way Chuuouku does and expects everyone else to do the same. This greatly limits his worldview and prevents him from considering possible other options besides, “Do or die”.

If most of the other cast members found themselves in Ramuda’s shoes, they would have the knowledge and ability to consider other options such as running away, asking for help, or fighting back. Yet Ramuda never considers any of these. He does not have the life experiences the other cast members have to consider making any of these options. He has never observed them or had an outside source present them as options to him. Once the order comes down the pipeline from Ichijiku, it is set in stone. He can hate the order - take a look at another illustration from TDD chapter 13 - but he considers its execution inevitable.

This is why the order to hypnotize Jakurai in FP/M chapter 11 hits him so hard. Now “do or die” has become “die or die”, and his only decision comes down to the nature of his death.

Yes, this situation could have been avoided by talking to Jakurai. Jakurai gives him multiple opportunities to speak up before and during the battle, but Ramuda doesn’t have the ability to recognize those as options for help. In Ramuda’s book, people don’t help him. “Help” doesn’t exist.

In fact, the entire TDD situation could have been avoided as well if Ramuda had trusted his friends, spoken up, and explained the situation. Jakurai (not to mention Ichirou and Samatoki after a fashion) would almost certainly have helped, and that seems to be what Jakurai was waiting for. Once he pushed Ramuda too hard by accident and caused an outburst, he stepped back and waited for Ramuda to come forward on his own terms. But that’s utterly foolish, because Ramuda doesn’t operate on his own terms either. Ramuda doesn’t have his own terms. He lives and thinks the way the Party of Words wants him to think, and if the Party of Words does not want him to speak up and ask for help, then he will never, ever be able to.

The beauty is that Dice is not Jakurai. As mentioned above, Dice minds his own business up until the point a friend of his is over their head, and it’s when Ramuda starts to pull out the True Hypnosis Mic in order to kill himself for Chuuouku that Dice finally acts.

As is the case with Gentarou up above, Dice acknowledges that he doesn’t fully understand the situation but offers physical reassurance, advice, and the implicit argument that Ramuda’s real strength is something of value. Dice writes the word “help” into Ramuda’s dictionary with genuine love and affection.

While Ramuda still can’t consider any option other than “do or die”, it is Dice and Gentarou’s intervention that imbues him with enough self-worth to even consider placing his own wants and needs above Chuuouku’s.

It is this that lays the groundwork for The Loneliness, Tears, and Hope of a Puppet and gives Ramuda the basic agency to even consider acting for himself and, contrarily, acting in line with consideration for other people. It’s this that allows him to avoid ruining Jakurai’s life a second time and this that allows him to accept Gentarou and Dice’s promise of friendship. In the drama track itself, once again it is Dice and Gentarou intervening and challenging Ramuda’s preconceived notions in order to save his life.

Gentarou absolutely plays a vital role in this as well, but it is Dice that chooses to make the first move. Had he not said anything, Ramuda would have used the True Hypnosis Mic and died onstage in front of the audience.

It is sometimes the tiniest of actions and the smallest pieces of support that make all the difference. Sometimes all it takes is someone being unafraid to reach out and flip a die over so it lands on a different number.

[lilflowerpot]

Soulmate AU where the marks on one person's skin show up on the other, but obviously they can't understand each other's writing, so Keith mostly just tries to express himself through art instead. So naturally, when he starts investigating the Blue Lion he starts drawing THAT too. Which is why, when Voltron shows up, Lotor is Dead Certain that the blue paladin is his soulmate, and he desperately tries to force himself to fall in love with Lance even while he's like "... Really? THIS guy?"

Lotor’s soulmate is not illiterate, but they may as well be. He’s compared their careless scrawl against every language in the Imperial data banks - thrice! - and it’s simply... not there.

“They’re a primitive,” Ezor nods sagely from where she’s half draped over his shoulder, eyeing the illegible lettering on his wrist with an entertained curl to her lips, “must be. Guess the universe wanted to counterbalance all your insufferable braininess.”

When Lotor shrugs her off with a snarl, she has the audacity to laugh.

Acxa’s kinder, or she tries to be, comforting him with the notion that if his soulmate is a primitive, they’re at the very least an educated one, or better yet of a more evolved society wherein knowledge of scripture is commonplace, so... they’re not feral.

Zethrid seems to half wish that they were, if only for the thrill of it.

“And the sex,” Ezor tacks on with an evil little grin, “the sex would have been fantastic.”

Her soulmate’s raucous glee drowns out any further discussion of the topic.

-

So they can’t communicate, not with words, but if Lotor’s soulmate is anything it’s tenacious (and the Prince can’t help but admire that). They come to the conclusion that pictures are the way to go, painting Lotor’s forearms with a veritable rainbow of quadrilaterals, each containing varying stripes and symbols, and then a series of dotted squiggles that Lotor is beginning to recognise as their approximation of a question.

The problem being he doesn’t actually know what it is that they’re asking.

There’s one rectangle - the majority of which is striped red and white, with a one contrasting quarter of stars in a blue sky - that his soulmate keeps coming back to, and Lotor realises it must be a clan symbol of a sort, indicative of their own people and culture, but... once again scouring Imperial logs turns up nothing of import. Frustrated, Lotor practically carves the hateful Imperial emblem into his palm with jagged lines of ink - Vrepit Sa - and turns in for the night.

In the morning, his arms are wiped clean.

They stay that way for a quintent.

Two.

On the third, he hears back, and it rocks his entire world view.

Kraliept Sa.

The lines are careful, deliberate, as if someone unfamiliar with the old scripture had taken great pains to transcribe that singular character, and Lotor quite simply can’t believe his eyes, because that would mean... that would mean that the only two things he knows of his soulmate are in direct contrast with one another: the first being that they are completely isolated from the Empire, and the second more impossible yet, that they have ties to the Blade of Marmora.

-

They continue this way for almost a decaphoeb, and it’s not perfect, but it’s something.

Lotor sends renderings of the stars, his ship, Kova, and in return his soulmate replies with sketches of the animals and sunsets and vast expanses of desert on an alien world.

One evening, they blur blues and greens into a perfect little marble on the inside of Lotor’s knee, an arrow pointing to one of the green patches labeled with a sequence of characters that the galra Prince is beginning to recognise as his soulmate’s name - though he can’t so much as begin to guess at how they might be pronounced - and so on the opposite knee Lotor paints Daibazaal, and then, because that feels inadequate, smears his thumb through the centre of the planet he no longer calls home, doodling a battalion of ships leaving the wreckage in a mass exodus, the children of an orphaned world.

And once more, his soulmate falls quiet.

-

It’s almost a full phoeb until they reach out again, and when they do Lotor finds them franctic, frightened, their little blue-green marble only the beginning; an entire solar system follows, complete with details such as what Lotor assumes must be an accurate number of moons on each planet for how deliberately they’re marked out, and then-

A ship.

It’s small and unassuming and positively archaic in design, but it’s a ship nonetheless, and as Lotor watches, his soulmate draws and erases and re-draws that same design until it’s traveled the length of his leg - thigh to ankle - and ‘lands’ on an unassuming moon of the most distant planet. They circle it with agitation, jabbing whatever implement they’re using to mark their own skin so violently that Lotor’s quite sure they must bleed under the force of it, but he doesn’t know what to say, let alone know how to say it if he did.

The next morning, his soulmate’s mural has gone.

The phantom ache of it remains.

-

They call him Champion.

Lotor only takes interest because of the timing, because of the circumstance, because it’s Sendak’s fleet that located these new lifeforms on a desolate moon in some distant corner of the universe, and of all Zarkon’s commanders he most of all has something of a reputation for toeing the line between cruelty and outright sadism.

The odds are one in a million, but that’s not a risk Lotor is willing to take.

He paints an obnoxious criss-cross of colour onto his own face that will be impossible to hide or mistake for anything other than what it is, and sends his generals to ascertain whether the Champion or either of the two lifeforms that accompanied him - soon to be subject to the work camps - share the mark.

They don’t, not one of them, and so Lotor chalks it up to coincidence and moves on.

Finding what could almost be mistaken for the legendary Blue Lion on the back of his hand only for Voltron proper to re-emerge into the universe after thousands of decaphoebs with the Champion himself allegedly at the helm, is not so easily written off.

And this time, when his soulmate abandons him to cold silence, it feels final.

-

Thayserix was very much a spur of the moment decision, but Lotor has never been so glad of such impulsivity as he is now, with the blue Lion of Voltron having been stolen from the thick mists and safely in his grasp.

Though, it’s not the lion that interests him.

Yes she’s a beautiful beast of considerable power, but in this case it is quite literally what’s on the inside that counts, that being of course Lotor’s soulmate... or so he’d thought.

Princess Allura of Altea cannot be them.

At least he certainly hopes not.

She’s lovely, in theory, but they’ve been in a stalemate for the past varga with her sullenly refusing to so much as consider entertaining Lotor’s attempts at hospitality, let alone conversation, and instead quite stubbornly standing with both her guard and weapon raised.

“I really would simply like to speak with-”

“Release me.”

Her end of things has consisted solely of those two words, and the monotony of it all really is growing rather tiresome.

Narti saves him from another repetitive bout, slinking into his mind and whispering that the rest of Voltron have located them far more quickly than Lotor would have thought possible.

The worst part is he’s almost grateful.

“Very well,” he growls, temper wearing thin, “your friends are here to collect you Princess, perhaps they will be more amenable to a little tête-à-tête, hm?”

They are not.

“Release Allura,” is the first thing to pass the dark-haired Paladin’s lips, teeth bared and tongue sharp, and it takes everything Lotor is not to simply concede on the spot.

“Frankly, I would love to,” he spits, gratified by how completely this blindsides the lot of them, every face on the holoscreen struck blank by his immediate compliance. “I do not believe she is the individual I am looking for, nor does she seem inclined to assist me in locating whosoever is. Answer my questions, and you are welcome to her and the blue Lion both.”

“We... We are?” It’s an older gentleman who speaks up, the only other altean among them.

“Absolutely,” Lotor hisses, and then graciously concedes: “the mistake was mine. I simply wished to open a dialogue with who I had assumed to be the blue Paladin, but as she is of a background that would doubtless have allowed us to communicate in galra script, that no longer seems the case.”

Their group look like they’re going to ask him to further explain what must sound to the lot of them nonsense... all except the black Paladin whose eyes have gone wide on some personal revelation, whispering “you,” as if he can’t believe his ears, only to spit out an obscenity before repeating himself with all the fury of an imploding star. “You!”

There are several exclamations of “Keith-!” as those violet eyes narrow to slits, the man smacking his hand down and cutting their com-line dead.

Ezor, helpful as ever, mumbles: “Well that went well,” quiet enough that it’s almost as if she doesn’t mean for everyone in the otherwise silent cockpit to hear her.

-

For the first time in ten thousand decaphoebs, the black Lion is - technically - in Imperial hands.

Lotor couldn’t care less.

The man who strides out of her is a veritable firestorm, all dark brows and snarling lips, and in a heartbeat Lotor knows, he just knows, who he is.

What he is.

Galra, for one, almost certainly a hybrid like Lotor - it’s the eyes that betray him, half luminescent with rage - and there’s a gorgeous poeticism to that.

Reckless for another, and behind him from where she’s been brought to stand witness, Princess Allura is clearly horrified to see her companion step from Voltron’s keystone and leave it completely unprotected, but the Paladin doesn’t seem to care, and neither does Lotor.

“Release Allura,” he growls again, voice like thunder and just as electrifying as he storms across the landing bay without hesitation, not even stopping to glance in his fellow Paladin’s direction and affirm that Zethrid has, in fact, released her as instructed.

No, Lotor’s soulmate simply fists pale fingers into paler hair and hisses, “fuck you,” into his mouth before kissing the Prince senseless.

-

Later - much, much later - Lotor is pleased to report back to Ezor that the sex is, in fact, fantastic.

[beewolfwrites]

The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Four: Guessing Games

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @serenzippity

I’m sorry if there’s any typos or mistakes in this. Some chapters are just harder to write, and I end up repeating words over and over haha. If you spot any, do let me know! 

As always, I’ll leave the AO3 link here. And I hope you like it! 

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

The Latin alphabet.

The message could be written in any language from English to Spanish, Czech or even Latin itself.

It could mean anything.

Unlike An, Headband or Pigtails, I had the advantage, and I could still save us. Except I had no idea where to start, and the steady pressure of the game was already settling on my shoulders like a thick fog.  

The Queen was smiling at me from the other gallows. I understood now, the way her eyes had lingered on me back in the reception. She probably hadn’t accounted for a foreigner to be here – after all, her game was intrinsically designed for native Japanese speakers. And yet that smile, the way the corners of her eyes crinkled ever so slightly; she was still confident.

And she should be. She already knows I can’t read morse code.

‘I don’t mean to rush you,’ said Pigtails, ‘but do you think you’ll be able to decode some of it?’ Her previous hope had wilted away, and she was now watching me with apprehension.

The message glared at me from the screen, nonsensical and confusing. The dots and dashes were swarming, melting into one dotted mass that darkened the room. My arms and legs felt detached, swinging from this noose like a doll. So many people had died. The teenage girl, the business man, Pink Scrunchie, countless players accused of being witches... I wasn’t able to save any of them.

And now, four more lives would be added to the list.

‘Stop panicking.’

I jumped at the sharpness of An’s voice. The dots and dashes returned to their screen. My hands and legs were still intact, still moving.

‘Take a deep breath and focus,’ she instructed.

Swallowing, I breathed in and out shakily. My chest felt hollow, and at the same time, it was crawling with jitters. ‘How can you be so calm? 何を知っている分からない.’ I don’t know what I’m doing.

‘Yes, you do. Chishiya brought you to the Beach for a reason.’

Chishiya?

That was why she trusted me?

I couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh; no matter how much I loved him, what he did at the Beach, the way he had almost betrayed me, it was still painful to think about.

‘違う.’ You’re wrong. I didn’t exactly have the vocabulary to explain properly, but I was sure they’d get the gist. ‘苣屋は私を使ってトランプの盗むしていた. それが唯一の理由だった.’ Chishiya was using me to steal the cards. That was the only reason.

An’s lips parted in surprise. Headband and Pigtails were whispering in low voices. I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but from their tones it was clear they didn’t think too highly of Chishiya.

‘So that’s what really happened,’ An muttered, filling in the rest of the blanks herself. ‘It was hard to believe Arisu could be capable of doing something like that.’ She shook her head slowly, processing the new information. ‘I suppose it no longer matters, since the Beach is gone now. But Chishiya still made a good decision bringing you to us. I’ve heard about your games, and I believe you’re more capable than you think.’

I remembered my conversation with Chishiya the day before the second stage, when he told me I would be good at Diamonds. Back then, he was wrong. Just looking at the dots and dashes on the screen, I knew this game was beyond me. And yet, it would be nothing more than a simple brainteaser for someone like him.

I wonder, what would he do? How would he approach this game?

I tried to picture his response to a morse code message. I tried to imagine his methods of breaking it down logically. But even so, it was impossible to understand how his brain worked. He was totally different to me. He was rational and analytical, able to uncover a solution to even the most complex situations. All I could do was notice things. I wasn’t Chishiya, nor would I ever be. And right now, was he wandering the streets looking for me? Probably not. Knowing him, he might have even gone straight to the Jack of Diamonds venue.  

No. That can’t be true.

He cared. I knew that. I’d felt his fingers playing with my hair whenever I drifted in and out of sleep during the night. I’d witnessed that unreadable expression of his when he first saw the bruises Niragi left. I’d felt his hands tearing me away from the balcony edge when...

‘If we were in a game together, and say, someone pointed a gun at me, would you do that? As in, would you stand back and watch?’

‘I don’t know.’

My vision glassed over at the memory. Chishiya, you...

You liar.

I rubbed away the tears and tried to hold my chin up higher. ‘みんな、ごめんね. 今大丈夫.’ I’m sorry everyone. It’s okay now.

There were only fifty-two minutes left. The Queen, who had remained silent this whole time, was watching on with a vague, academic intrigue. Despite the pristine neatness of her olive suit and her black shoes, she was relaxed, raising her delicate eyebrows as I looked at her squarely.

‘You said before that you might be able to answer some of our questions, so I want to make a deal.’

‘What kind of deal?’ Her eyes glinted as if I’d just proposed a new game – as if I’d made this even more fun for her.

The drawing of the gallows was still waiting, empty, on the second screen. ‘If we figure out this message and clear the game, you have to answer my questions.’

She took the time to consider it. ‘I suppose that’s fair,’ she said. ‘One of us will die here, so it hardly matters anymore. It’s a deal.’

I’d said those same words to Chishiya, and I had no intention of breaking our promise here in this library. With a little more confidence now, I analysed the coded message closely. Normally in a game of Hangman, vowels were a first choice because of how often they were used. But we could only pick two.

What’s the most used vowel in the Latin alphabet?

Most people would assume it was A, but if I had to make a guess, I’d probably say E. Lots of languages with a Latin alphabet, like French, Spanish and Italian, used words like el, es, e, and est. But if E was the most common vowel, would that make it too obvious a choice?

I chanced a look at the Queen. She was smiling, not in a manipulative or secretive way, but as if she was quietly supporting us from the sidelines. It was peculiar. There was a chance she had purposely avoided E because of how often it was used, and I wouldn’t put it past her – she was still alive for a reason.

So what’s the second most common?

U was a no-go. Out of all the vowels it was definitely the least popular. A would be far too obvious as well. It would have to be a gamble between I and O. There were just forty-eight minutes left, and there was no time to waste hesitating between them.

Pick one, pick one.

‘If it’s okay with everyone,’ I said, ‘I’m going to choose O.’

Pigtails and Headbands looked unsure, most likely because I kept switching languages accidentally. On the other hand, An was open to the idea, replying only with, ‘I trust you.’

I held my breath, transfixed by the dots and dashes before us.

A number of Os appeared, scattered throughout the message; two in the first line, three in the second, four in the third, and one in the fourth. The drawing of the empty gallows remained unchanged.

We did it!

Beside me, Headband exhaled a sigh of relief and murmured a subdued thank you. Much to my surprise, however, the Queen didn’t seem disheartened by our small victory. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she looked pleased for us.

‘A good choice to start with, I must say.’ She clasped her hands together, resting them against her blazer. ‘Unfortunately, you’ve used up one of your vowels, but you seem like smart girls. I’m sure you’ll do well.’

How could she be so happy?

‘Isn’t this a bad thing for you?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t you worried?’

‘Should I be? There’s no good or bad,’ she countered, ‘just two perspectives.’

She’s a gamemaster, isn’t she? She set up these games, and she’ll die here if we win.

‘But we’re your enemy...’

She smiled warmly once more. ‘I think you’ll find we’re on the same side.’

On the same side? I didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense at all. ‘What do y—’

‘Don’t bother.’ An took off her sunglasses, openly assessing the Queen. ‘She’s intentionally wasting our time.’

She was right. The clock was now on forty-seven minutes, and the Queen seemed to be particularly skilled at raising more questions than she answered. I could interrogate her about all of this once we’d cleared the game – some things took priority. I focused my concentration on the code, trying to find some kind of hint or pattern there.

.-.   ..   -.   --. / .- / .-.   ..   -.   --. / O / .-.   o   ...   .   ...

.- / .--.   o   -.-.   -.-   .   - / ..-.   ..-   .-..   .-.. / o   ..-. / .--.   o   ...   ..   .   ...

.- / -   ..   ...   ....   o   o / .- / -   ..   ...   ....   o   o

.--   . / .-   .-..   .-.. / ..-.   .-   .-..   .-.. / -..   o   .--   -.

From what I could see, the O in the first line was capitalised. It was a standalone word – usually that would mean the word was either archaic, or it was in another language. But the Os in the third line were even more curious. The morse symbols repeated themselves twice, with the Os hinting at what could only be either onomatopoeia, or again, archaic terminology.

‘What do you think?’ Pigtails asked.

My eyes scanned the repetitions in the third line. There was something off about it. Words didn’t usually repeat themselves twice in a row like that... unless they were poetic. It would certainly explain why the O was alone in the top line, and why this message was carefully constructed with line breaks in the first place.

If it’s poetry, I might have heard it before.

Headband perked up suddenly. ‘What about going with the most common characters?’

By characters, she must’ve meant letters. I still didn’t know what language the message was in, so I could only use the letters I knew rather than those with accents. Although, playing Hangman as a child, there were always certain letters that wielded the best chance of success.

‘Let’s go with M,’ I said at last. There was usually at least one hiding somewhere. The four of us looked at the screen in anticipation. My fists clenched at my sides as I willed for an M to appear in the mix.

The screen changed.

The wrong screen. A circle appeared below the noose in the drawing. The hangman now had a head.

I could feel the others looking at me, aware that they had put their trusted me and I had let them down. ‘I’m sorry...’ I told them. ‘I’m sorry. ごめん.’

A hand lightly squeezed my shoulder. ‘It’s okay,’ Headband said. ‘We’ve still got more tries.’

Pigtails stepped as close as the noose would allow. ‘This was going to happen at some point. And at least now we know which characters aren’t there. It narrows down the possible words.’

There was silence from An. Perhaps she was disappointed in me, or even regretting her decision to let me captain this game. I wouldn’t blame her if that was the case. I felt the same way, only my regret was stained with guilt too. If I couldn’t save the three of them, at least I would die too. At least I would get what I deserved.

I glanced up at the timer. Forty-five minutes until someone gets sent to the gallows. I couldn’t let it be them.

I can’t lose control of myself like this.

‘You’ve used up one of your ten consonants,’ the Queen reminded us, steady and composed as always. ‘As a word of advice, relying on an age-old strategy doesn’t necessarily work.’

Every time the Queen opened her mouth, she only confused me more. And judging from An’s response, I wasn’t the only one to feel that way. ‘Why should we listen to your advice? Our failure is your win.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ the Queen replied. ‘But I’ll leave it up to you to decide.’

She didn’t sound like she was purposely trying to mislead us, but that in itself could be what made it so misleading. Most people tend to gravitate towards common letters when playing Hangman – is that what she meant by an ‘age-old-strategy’?

In that case...

I took a deep breath. Maybe this was worth the risk. ‘I think we should try doing the opposite,’ I stated. ‘I think we should choose an uncommon letter.’ Realising I’d slipped between languages yet again, I tried to remember the words in Japanese. ‘逆が試みよう.’ Let’s try the opposite. ‘レアの文字.’ An uncommon letter.

The Queen could have purposely avoided using popular ones to throw us off. But if I was wrong, was it worth losing a turn? The bodiless head dangled from its noose on the other screen.

Only six chances left.

‘It’s worth a shot,’ said An.

Pigtails peered at us from the end of the platform. ‘Are you sure? We don’t have that many chances of guessing.’

I understood her hesitation. It felt like we were gambling with our lives, and I was the one calling the shots. And it was even worse for her as she was placing her life in someone else’s hands. ‘I know, わかてる,’ I tried to reassure her. ‘If it doesn’t work, we can try a different approach.’

Headband was twiddling her fingers again, although there was a hardness in her posture. A resolve to win. ‘It won’t be a waste, because we’ll know then that it’s the wrong strategy. I trust you two.’

It felt good to know they had my back, even if my previous attempt at guessing hadn’t worked. Maybe things would take a turn for the better? I exhaled slowly, trying to assemble the most unlikely letters. Q was definitely a contender. Z was again, too obvious, but X was hardly ever used because there were fewer words you could make with it. It was probably the most unlikely letter to appear in a game of Hangman.

Forty-three minutes ticked down to forty-two.

‘X.’

We waited with bated breath. Headband played with her fingers. Pigtails chewed on her lip. An clutched her sunglasses in both hands, her eyes locked on the message before us.

Please... please.

‘Relying on an age-old strategy doesn’t necessarily work.’

A black line appeared beneath the hangman’s head, his new body dangling from the noose.  

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Waterfall Memories by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 6/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapters titles are based on the lyrics from “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers

Chapter 6: And I Don’t Blame You Dear for Running Like You Did

She finished the last of the dishes from breakfast, putting the plates away in the cabinet and turning toward the dog beside her feet on the floor. “What shall we do today?” The dogs barked, standing, and running in circles around her legs.

She looked around the cabin, books littering every surface. She grabbed one nearest to her, flipping through the pages to find them blank, empty, and begging to be filled. Looking around she found a pencil and blanket and gathered her items, opening the door and letting the dog outside. She followed him to the bench on the front porch.

There was water all around the cabin, some of it threatening to flow under the structure. Killian was standing on the side of the cabin, knee deep in the brown liquid, a shovel in his hands, his shirt tied to his side in a knot. She bit her lip as her eyes trailed his upper body, sun kissed from days he must have spent standing in the hot sun before the weather had turned cold.

She sat down on the bench, drawing her knees up to tuck her feet under her, wrapping the blanket around her as the dog curled up below her. She looked at the empty page and the pencil in her hand started to scratch at the white surface. She had no idea if she could draw, couldn’t remember ever trying, but the way the images took shape she thought maybe this was something she was good at in her other life. The one that was just out of reach of her memories.

She drew the forest, the water lying motionless in front of her, a dog splashing through the muddy sludge as a man stood, staring at the horizon. When she looked down at it minutes later, the shape of a swan in the distance was floating away from the cabin on the page before her. She sighed, looking up to watch Killian, now covered with beads of sweat, dripping deliciously down the crevice in his back, and she bit her lip. The man was the picture of sexy and mysterious. She wanted to know more about him, the story of how he got here, why he was alone. Yet she could tell that he was holding back from her, keeping pieces of himself hidden from her sight. What she wouldn’t give to tear back the layers and have him invite her in.

She turned the page of the book to start a new drawing but was surprised to see writing on the page, handwritten in a beautiful script. She should close the book, put it back where she found it and yet she found herself reading it.

Dearest Milah,

My love, I am in darkness without your light, I curse the sun for trying to replace the warmth that you no longer provide. I am in misery, these bars are not my affliction, my prison is of my own making. Even as I am released tomorrow, I will never escape the prison I created for myself. I have failed you. I failed Alice. There is blood on my hands, hate in my heart, revenge destroyed me. Destroyed our life. Our beautiful home. My perfect Alice. I am cursed. I fear that my heart will always be. I will never be at peace knowing the hell I brought upon my family. Your last moments knowing that I destroyed us. My life is forfeit, doomed to walk this earth with the knowledge that I am a monster. Undeserving of love. My fate is sealed. Hope is lost.

Killian

She ran her fingers across the lettering of his name, looking up at the man facing away from her, tearing at the soil beneath his feet. She needed to know more, yearned to understand how anyone could feel so tormented, so worthless. She ached for him.

Closing the book, she stood, watching from the corner of the house, observing his labor. She couldn’t exactly leave him this way. A few extra days to try and solve the mystery that was Killian Jones wouldn’t hurt her. Her life could wait if it meant helping the man who had so selflessly helped her.

She went back into the house, burying the book beneath a larger one, not wanting him to know that she had invaded his thoughts, his privacy. Looking around the cabin she decided she would do something nice for him. She began by picking up the items from the corner, dusting off the surfaces she could. She folded blankets, organized his books, placed the logs evenly beside the hearth and gathered the clothing to be washed in the bucket he kept by the back door.

When she had finished she looked around at the result of her work and smiled. Maybe she was married in her other life, she was pretty good at this house cleaning thing. She frowned, touching her ringless finger. Maybe she was just a maid in her other life. Was she hoping for that instead of having a husband who was lovingly looking for her? A man she had thus betrayed by her night with Killian.

The door opened abruptly, and Killian stepped into the tiny cabin. Tossing his boots into the corner by the door he turned and met her eyes. He seemed surprised to see her standing there, holding a broom, and sweeping the floors. It was so ridiculously domestic that she cursed herself for being found this way.

“I cleaned up.” She announced and his eyes roamed the room and to her surprise the corners of his mouth ticked upward.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.” She finished her task, setting the broom back behind the door and walking closer to him, reaching out to take the dirty shirt from his hands. “I was doing the wash.” She smiled shyly. He didn’t react, probably from the shock she imaged when she ran her fingers across his chest, dirt and grime slipping through her fingers. “You should do the same.” She added with a flirty grin. “Take a hot bath.” She turned away from him, her smile growing on her face, pleased with the reaction she elicited from him a moment before.

“Uh, yeah I’ll do that.” He stammered, walking toward the bedroom. “Thanks, Swan. For um, for tidying up. I’ve never had a guest before.”

She bowed her head. “Go bathe.” She returned her gaze to his eyes. “I’ll make some dinner.” He left the room, and she swore her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She had half a mind to follow him right into the bathroom and have her way with the man. But instead, she walked the few steps away to the kitchen to start the meal she promised she would make. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she thought. She had no idea why she knew that, but she was determined to find out if it was true.

~*~

Killian retreated from the room, trying to create as much distance as he could between him and the beautiful Swan who was currently domesticating his home. Seeing his place so neatly put together, the blonde woman putting such care and attention into something she had no investment in both confounded him and stirred emotions in him that he had buried, burned, destroyed years ago.

He shut the door to the bathroom, filling the buckets with water to put on the stove to heat but instead tossed the cool water into the tub, perhaps a hot bath was not what he needed right now unless he intended to do something completely stupid and reckless like ask the woman to join him.

He sunk down into the cold water, breathing slowly, erasing all the thoughts he had of how she had felt the night before. The taste of her skin, her intoxicating aroma as he plunged his tongue into her center.

Fuck.

Sinking below the water, he lay there, holding his breath, counting to ten before breaching the surface and gulping in air. He scraped at his skin, letting the soap cleanse the dirt and grime he had accumulated from his earlier work. The trench he had dug would allow the water to escape in a few days. The roads would be clear, and he would be able to drive back to town. This would be over, and he could return to his solitude.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, wandering into the bedroom to dress and pull a comb through his hair. If he was going to play house, he should at least look presentable to the woman who was sharing his fairytale. He rolled his eyes at the mirror, admonishing himself for playing along with this fantasy. Could it really hurt him to have a few nights of pretend? None of it was real. They both knew that. Perhaps it was a reprieve from the devil, or yet another way to torture him. Either way, he would take it.

He stepped from the room quietly as she flitted around the kitchen, humming a song to herself as she worked. She was a marvel to observe, a beautiful treasure in every way. When she caught him staring, she blushed, quieted, and turned back to the stove.

“It was lovely, don’t stop on my account.”

“I don’t know where it came from, it just sort of formed in my head. I guess I must have heard it in my other life” She mused, humming the notes again to You are my Sunshine.

She seemed almost angelic, standing in his kitchen with the sun shining across her golden locks. Before he could stop himself he realized he was singing the words to her melody. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey…”

She turned toward him, their eyes meeting. “That’s lovely.” She smiled. “Is that what I’m humming?”

“Aye.” She continued humming. “You’ll never know dear; how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” He finished softly, standing in front of her with her back against the counter. Neither one of them moved and he was afraid to take a breath for fear she would disappear right in front of him. He wasn’t ready for her to dissolve, to leave his life. He cursed even admitting it. He liked having her here.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“I used to sing that to Alice before she went to bed.” He said with a sad smile. “It was her favorite.”

He expected her to go back to her food preparations, to break the spell he was in, but instead she surprised him, reaching up to brush the wet hair from his forehead. A smile sweeter than any he could remember fell across her face as she stepped into his embrace, her lips grazing his jaw before touching his lips. It was over before it began, short yet sweet and full of emotion. He squeezed his lids tighter together to keep his emotions from spilling out. She stepped from his arms and his lids flittered open. “Food will be ready in a minute.”

No one had taken the kind of care she had. Cleaning his house, preparing a meal, comforting him. These were not things that were afforded to him. Yet here she was, a stranger, a woman who was within her rights to demand to be released and taken home immediately and yet she instead opted to care for him. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to. Because it would be gone before he had the ability to embrace it. Taken from him like everything else in his life.

“Smells good.” He announced suddenly, sitting down at the table.

“I wasn’t really sure what to make but you have such great vegetables.”

“Aye, I’m sure my garden is flooded now. But at least it’s watered.” He chuckled.

She sat the food in front of him and then made her own plate, taking the seat beside him. They ate in silence, but it was comfortable in the way she would smile at him between bites, or blush when he caught her eye.

After the food was consumed, they each took to the mundane task of cleaning up, side by side, working together. It required no forethought or communication, like they had been doing this their whole lives. “I don’t wish to upset you, Swan, but I think we make quite the team.” He teased, an expression that must have come from a moment of weakness pushing through his hardened exterior. “The place hasn’t looked this bright and cheerful in…” He scrunched his nose, “well, ever, I suppose.” Ending with a laugh that started low in his belly, but he felt through to his toes.

“Then I have completed the task I set out for myself this morning.” She smiled.

“What task was that love?”

“Getting you to do that.” She chuckled before continuing her thought. “Trying to ease some of that burden you seem to carry.”

He swallowed. “I suppose I can bury some of it for a few rare moments.” He pursed his lips. “Thank you.” He added sincerely.

“Can I ask you something?”

He shrugged, “I suppose.”

“What are you punishing yourself for?”

He exhaled, “Why do you assume I’m punishing myself?”

She shrugged, “You live alone, cut off from the world, as if you are condemning yourself to loneliness. I can’t imagine the man I know doing anything that would call for such isolation and sadness.”

“I have done many things in this life, Swan, most that I am not proud of. I am not a good man.”

“You saved me.” She whispered, her hands reaching for his. He wants to pull back, to keep the connection broken, but instead he allows her to take his hand.

“One good deed does not forgive a lifetime of bad behavior.” His voice cracked. He wished things were different, that she could stay here, maybe she would even heal his soul. But her life was not his to control. She belonged somewhere else; he was sure that her heart must even belong to another. Someone noble and deserving of her. A good man.

“It’s a start.” She leaned over, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Trust me, you have a mark in the hero column in my book.” Her words warmed his heart, he rewarded her with a genuine smile.

“Thank you, love. That means a great deal more than you know.”

She stood and wandered toward the couch, lighting candles along the way. As she sat down she gestured for him to join her. “It should be a few more days and I should be able to drive into town.” He added as he sat next to her.

“Well, let’s make sure the roads are safe before you try, perhaps we should wait until things are completely dry.”

He turned toward her, a hopeful feeling rising in his heart, a few more precious days with her. “Aye, good idea. Better to be safe.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder and for a moment he let himself get lost in the gesture. Imagining a new reality where this woman, his swan, stayed, and they would spend nights on the couch, lying together and talking about nothing.

“So, what do you do out here every day? Surely you must find something of interest to keep you busy.”

“Jolly and I do a lot of exploring, fishing over on the west banks, or hunting for game. I suppose when we aren’t doing that I read.”

“I noticed you had a lot of books.”

“Aye, my brother taught me how to read when I was very small. I suppose it become a passion of mine.”

“You have a brother.”

His chest rose and fell with the exhale he exerted. “I did, yes. Liam. He was a good man.”

“Was?”

“Aye. Gone.”

“Your parents?”

“Died when we were young.”

“So, you truly are alone.” She offered sadly.

“Well, I have Jolly.” The dogs head lifted off his lap as he lay next to him. He patted his head. “He provides good company.”

“Have you ever thought of moving back home?”

“No home to return to.”

“But you could move back to where you are from, start a new life.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option for me, love.”

“You could come with me.” His heart stilled.

“Love, whatever is waiting out there for you, I assure you, it is far more worthy of you than me. You don’t know anything else right now, that’s where all of this is coming from. You’re clinging to what you know because you can’t remember what you don’t.”

She sat up, staring at him. “Stop doing that. Stop discounting yourself like you are some demon, unworthy of compassion. I don’t care what you’ve done in your past, I only see who you are now.”

“Swan, you wouldn’t say that if you knew who I really was.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head in frustration.

“Why not.”

“Because…I don’t want to see that look of disappointment in your eyes. I can’t bear to have one more person hate me because of what I’ve done. I just want you to see me as you do right now. Before you leave. Even if it’s only for a few days.” His honestly surprised him, almost scared him to admit his feelings out loud. He enjoyed that she stared at him with compassion, almost reverence. He wanted her to want him, to see him as the man he used to be, long ago. He couldn’t keep her, but perhaps he could have this feeling long after she was gone. Someone had seen him, the Killian Jones he remembered, the one that Milah trusted and loved. The man who would sing lullabies to his daughter and earned her devotion. If someone could still find that man in him, maybe it was enough to keep him sane long after she was gone.

“Take me to bed.” Her eyes were full of passion, desire, need. Killian rose from the couch, hoisting her into his arms. “Be my love, if only for a while.” She whispered against his neck and he found her mouth, taking her lips with his. Tonight, he would take her as his own, they would have these moments together, no matter how fleeting they would be.

As he buried himself inside of her, pouring every ounce of passion into his kiss, he thought only of her, his Swan. As she lay, curled into his side afterwards, her eyes staring into his with a warmth of devotion, he imagined a life that wasn’t his. A life where he made her happy, where he loved this woman with all his heart and he drifted off to sleep, knowing that even though it wasn’t real, he could almost believe it, almost feel it burrowing deep into his heart.

Hope.