#and I’m so glad I found one to take that from rome au
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Out here considering Star Wars 2.0 AU, nervous as hell peach getting a very drunk plum back to her ship quarters, being accosted with affection and just not knowing what to think, or do, or say. Attention of this kind before her new life with Plum always came at a cost, there was an exchange that usually left her injured. But this isn’t going that way? She’s never had anyone be soft with her, not ever, not without it going wildly the other way soon after.
Plum the next day is head in hands at her desk nursing that hangover, apologising for her actions, she didn’t mean to put peach in an awkward position.
The zabrak woman shrugs it off.
“It was a mistake, I know, you don’t have to apologise to me.” To which plum hear and sits back, headache like no other, quickly looking up at her personal guard.
“Oh, no, don’t get my words confused. I fully meant it, there was no mistake made other than how I handled the situation. I’d do it again if it weren’t for the fact you can’t physically say no to me yet.” Plum returns to her work, and peach is left standing there completely confused, red cheeked, there’s no adequate response to that.
Subtly trying to ask grey is plums done this before, her questions to her seem very low key, passing interest. But peach doesn’t take a passing interest in anything, so this has a reason.
She denies anything and goes back to her room. Grey finds out what happened from Plum later and is quietly jealous.
He can’t do what she did, he wants to, god he does so bad. But peach has had awful experiences with men, and he’s in too much of a position of power to ever make a move. She’s got to come to him if she ever wants to.
#this au can resonate so much nervous peach energy#and I’m so glad I found one to take that from rome au#without having to be accurate or historical#fruit salad#brainrot#Star Wars au
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ETERNAL - v
➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.
➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader
➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe
➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death
➳ warnings ; smoking, mature conversations
➳ word count ; 3k
➳ note ; Thank you for your patience!
masterlist
Fear is a fist that clutches your heart, reminding you of its presence each time it tightens its grip. It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but you can feel the strength in its hold; the raging tendons wrapped around your tender organ that strain with each heartbeat. A singular emotion controlling your very pulse.
Cigarette smoke billows into the indigo hour of the night, and you find yourself unable to pry the fingers away.
The air on the balcony is cold, but it envelops you in a comforting embrace; it’s a soft coolness, as opposed to the harsh, biting climate of the desert that you’ve become accustomed to. Your skin prickles with goosebumps, but you don’t feel the need to scratch at yourself, to tear the skin from your flesh. It makes you feel alive, even if the definition of that word has changed for you.
Evidence of your newfound immortality, if that’s what you can call it, dangles between your fingers, ashes falling to the ground several storeys below with each gentle tap. It tastes terrible⎯⎯a bitter flavour of death in every pull⎯⎯but it serves its purpose for now. It keeps you grounded, gives you something to focus on other than the slowly growing anxiety that still holds strong in your chest.
Behind you, the balcony door slides open, startling the silent air with its soft drag.
“You’re up late,” Namjoon says. He speaks soft, low, as if hesitant to disturb you. “Or early, I guess. Didn’t take you for a smoker.”
You breathe out a puff of smoke, watching as it dissipates into the darkness. “I’m not.” He steps into your periphery, leaning on the metal railing beside you. “I just needed...something. Found them hidden away in the bookshelf.”
Namjoon scoffs. “Figures. We’re usually a non-smoking household, but sometimes the boys get sneaky. Pass me one?”
You hand him the box. Only two cigarettes left. He brings one to dangle between his lips and, without asking, you hand him a lighter. It takes him three tries, and then he’s sighing smoke into the air as well.
“Thought you were a non-smoking household.”
“We are. Stinks up the place, and it tastes disgusting. But. When in Rome.”
“You calling me Rome?”
He chuckles, but doesn’t answer. “Couldn’t sleep?”
You shake your head, despite knowing that he isn’t looking at you. “Too much on my mind.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t think I could if I tried.”
He blends in with the shadows, slightly, though the peaks of his cheekbones catch the dull light that glows through the mist of pollution. “I get that. Would you rather me talk?”
“Not really.”
“Do you want me to leave you alone?”
“Not really.”
So he stays. Until the embers begin to burn your fingertips; until you’re snuffing your cigarette on the metal rail. You don’t think you’ll smoke again. You suppose it doesn’t matter, though. There’s forever ahead of you to change your mind.
Sunlight is just beginning to illuminate the buildings around you when Namjoon speaks up again. He stubbed his own cigarette before it was even halfway done.
“I’m sure you’re curious,” he says. “About us, about the situation, about everything. And we’ll tell you as much as we can, but...There are some things the boys won’t feel comfortable telling you about just yet. We’ve lived long lives. We’ve done good things and bad things; experienced things we’re proud of and things that haunt us. We may not die, but we’re still human. I hope that you don’t mind being patient with us.”
Your heart aches a little at the melancholy in his tone, as if you wouldn’t give the world for these seven men after knowing them just a day. It feels as if your soul has missed them for a lifetime.
“Namjoon.” He turns to face you, now, and a halo of soft light glows around his face. “I don’t know what you’ve all been through, and frankly, it’s none of my business. If you want to tell me something, I know that you’ll do it in your own time. I’ve got the rest of my life to get to know you all, okay? There’s no rush.”
His smile starts as a twitch, a quirked corner of his lips, but quickly grows wide. Relieved.
“I’m glad it’s you,” he says. He offers no elaboration, no further words, but you think you know what he means. Because you’re glad it’s him, too. You’re glad it’s them.
With breakfast comes clarity. As you sit at the large dining table, bowls of rice, soup, and several plates of banchan steaming into the morning air, you find yourself feeling calmer than you have since your death. It’s as though the raging tides of emotions⎯⎯uncertainty, confusion, downright fear⎯⎯have finally quelled into a tranquil body of water. There is sure to be a ripple sooner or later, but for now, it is completely still.
Yoongi, the cook of this morning’s feast, takes the first bite, and the rest of you follow. There is so much that you want to say, so many questions that you want to speak into existence, but the bitter taste of apprehension bleeds through even the delicious taste of your meal. You feel like you might choke on it⎯⎯the taste and your words both⎯⎯but your throat closes before you can even swallow.
Ah. There is the awaited ripple.
Perhaps it is the hours of silent companionship, or simply his centuries of wisdom, but Namjoon seems to sense your internal struggle. “If there’s anything you want to ask us, Y/N, go ahead. We’ll answer to the best of our abilities.”
Your throat eases and your tastebuds return to normal. “Well…” Where do you begin? What questions do you ask potentially ancient beings? “I guess let’s start with what this,” you wave a finger around the table, at the seven other sets of eyes who watch you patiently, “is. The situation.”
Namjoon nods slowly. It seems he’ll be taking charge for this conversation, much to the visible relief of the others. “Even we aren’t completely certain of what exactly this is,” he says. “From what we’ve learned, our death granted us immortality, or something to that degree. We cannot die, nor can we get majorly injured. Any wounds heal quickly, and any illnesses metabolise out of our system before they can affect us.”
You nod. All of this you were already aware of.
“As for this,” he continues. He looks around the group, fighting back a fond smile. “We’re all connected. When someone else becomes like us, we all see visions of each other to help us find them. The same happened with you. You saw visions of us when you slept, and we saw visions of you. That’s how we could find you. The dreams gave us enough information to figure out who you were, and then it was a matter of locating you.”
“Which wasn’t easy, by the way,” Jimin adds, though there is no annoyance. “Your files were so deeply buried that we thought they might not exist. And don’t even get me started on accessing the satellite.”
“You hacked a satellite?” You can’t hide the shock in your tone, and you don’t miss the glint of mischief in Jimin’s eyes.
“That’s not important,” Namjoon says, taking control of the conversation once again. “What’s important is this: the eight of us are intrinsically connected now. We might not get the visions anymore, but we are still linked. The easiest way to describe it is that we’re soulmates, though that might not even be true. We were destined to find each other, to be immortal together. Whether it’s for some higher purpose, or just a random curse, we don’t know. It’s better, I think, if we don’t try and find out that reason.”
Now that confuses you. “Why? Isn’t it human nature to be curious?”
Hoseok scoffs. “I don’t think we fall under the definition of ‘human’ anymore.”
You’ll have to file that away for later.
Namjoon ignores Hoseok, and looks straight at you. “If we become too enveloped in trying to figure out the big ‘why’, we’ll get lost in ourselves. We’ll lose our own sense of purpose. If we were chosen, for whatever reason, then we have to trust that our instincts will guide us to do what is needed.”
“Okay.” You suppose he’s right. “Then, could you tell me how old you all are?”
“We don’t do ages,” Taehyung says. He sounds almost amused. “We know the age we were when we died, but we don’t keep track of how long we’ve lived after that. It’s a rule.”
“Then how about...generally? Who was the first? How did you all die?”
All eyes turn to Namjoon. Honestly, you can’t say you’re surprised.
“I was the first,” he says. A faraway look takes over his eyes, as if lost in the past. Seokjin puts a grounding hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t figure out my actual age if I tried, but it was...a long time ago. I was the chief of my village. Killed for power. The story isn’t too interesting.”
There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Yoongi clears his throat. “I was the second. A slave to some tyrant who thought he was all-powerful. Killed in front of the other slaves to put them in line.” He shrugs, but doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
Hoseok is quick to speak next, his words are short and curt. “I was third. Court execution.” He seems reluctant, as if guarding his past behind the tightly-locked gates of his crossed arms, but you mean what you said to Namjoon earlier; you will wait for them. For however long it takes.
Next is Seokjin, and you have a feeling that his theatrics are for Hoseok’s benefit. “I was the lucky fourth, and a king, at that! Though I was only in the position for a few hours, and all public records of it were thrown into the river with my body. Which is a shame, really, because my portraits deserved to be in museums for all to marvel over.”
“Um.” Jeongguk seems nervous, and you see him hide his shaking hands beneath the table. “I was next. I died of...natural causes.”
“And we came as a set,” Taehyung smiles, arm slung over Jimin’s shoulders. “Died at the very same moment, and woke up the same way! We were best friends, right, Jiminie? On the opposite sides of a war, but I loved him with my whole heart.”
Jimin nods, a wistful smile pulling at his cheeks. “I remember thinking that I was so lucky, to die in his arms. To never have to live a single moment without him. And then we found the others, and I thought that I must’ve been in heaven to be so fortunate.”
“We’re all together,” Namjoon elaborates, though it’s unnecessary. A blind man could see the way they feel about each other. “It may be because of circumstance, though I like to think that it’s because we were all meant to be. Like it’s a gift from the universe, allowing soulmates born in different centuries to find each other.”
“And now you,” Jeongguk whispers. His eyes glimmer, hopeful, and so young despite the obvious years he has over you. You wonder why he doesn’t seem as emotionally aged as the others; what could cause him to cling to his youth the way he does. It doesn’t matter, though. If it means he keeps his heart, it will never matter.
“We don’t expect anything from you,” Seokjin says. “Not romantically or even platonically. You are still your own person, and if you don’t want to be a part of this, in any degree, we won’t force it.”
You are thankful for that. It takes away a pressure that you didn’t even know you had until now. The thought that this is a choice⎯⎯a decision that is completely yours to make⎯⎯relieves you to no end. And yet...
“I don’t think that’s a decision I can make right now.” You mindlessly arrange the chopsticks on your now empty plate as you try to summon the right words to explain yourself. “There’s so much that I need to figure out, and so many things that I feel I have to do. I don’t even know if I’ve properly processed the situation yet, or if I’m simply in shock.”
“Is there any way we can help you?” Yoongi, as always, seems so genuine. So heartfelt.
“You already have. So much more than you’d believe.” And it’s true. Independence is your life. You may have been in a team in your old life, a leader of a small group for whom you were responsible, but you were always brought up, always trained, to survive alone. To find comfort in an existence of solitude. Because that’s what the military is; it is removing yourself from others, from the world. You were in a team, sure, but you were all alike in your aloneness. Alone together.
Now, you have this group of men who, without knowing you, have plucked you from your misery and now offer you everything. Offer themselves, their companionship, their help. You are not the one responsible, the one with everything on the line. They have taken that from you with gentle hands, and you give it away gladly. There is not much else that you could ask of them.
Except. Well, maybe there is.
“But…” You trail off, and their eyes just scream patience. You don’t know how they do it, how they’ve grown to be so effortlessly composed and serene, because right now your heart is beating in urgency. It batters against your chest, yelling at you to just ask them, now, but your words falter in sudden uncertainty. They have already given you so much, offered even more; can you truly ask for the help that you now realise you may need?
You look into their eyes again, and know that the answer is yes.
“This mission,” you continue, sitting up straighter. If you speak with confidence, perhaps you’ll start to feel it. “As far as I know, it was never completed. When our team went in, it was under the belief that we’d be able to rescue all of the children safely and relatively unseen. Someone on the inside tipped them off, but they had to have had a reason. They wouldn’t have betrayed us like that unless something was wrong.”
“You speak like you know exactly who it was,” Hoseok says. It isn’t a question, and you see it in his expression that he isn’t necessarily looking for an answer.
You won’t give him one. Not yet. Not until you’ve figured out for yourself why this person would’ve left you for dead. “That isn’t important right now,” you say in lieu of a confirmation. “What matters is that those children are still out there somewhere, and there’s a leak in the operation.” Releasing a deep sigh, you slump down a bit. “I’m going back to the desert, back to the base, and I’m going to save those children. If you would like to help me...that would be really nice.”
“Of course we’ll help,” Jeongguk says, without hesitation. There’s a resoluteness in the set of his jaw that you haven’t seen in him before. “Anything you need. We mean it.”
“We should talk about this plan of yours first, though,” Namjoon says. “As far as the military is concerned, you’re dead. You died with your team. If you go back to your base of operations, that’s just going to open up a whole lot of complications for both sides. They might think that you were the traitor, being the only survivor. We’ll need to operate with a certain level of stealth.”
You were worried about that. Your dog-tags are with the rest of your team’s, your body supposedly burned along with theirs. You won’t be able to reprise the role you previously played in this, and you won’t have the military support that you once had. If you do this, it will be in the shadows, hiding behind corners and turning away from cameras. You are a ghost now. You’ll have to act like one.
“Okay,” you say. “I understand; we need to stay hidden. But there is one person that I need to see face-to-face. I can promise that they won’t do anything to endanger our identities.”
“It’s a bad idea,” Jimin says. “Trust is one thing when you’re alive, but if they’ve been mourning your death, you can’t know for sure how they’ll react.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you affirm. “I trust this person, and I’m going to need you all to trust me.”
Taehyung bites his lip in contemplation. “It isn’t that we don’t trust you,” he says, “but we can’t fully trust the situation. We don’t know this person, whoever they are, or how they’ll use this information against you. Against us.”
“I get it, I do.” You can’t help but sigh. “But this is something that I need to do, and something that I will do regardless of whether I have your permission. I won’t let my decision affect any of you, but if you decide against helping me because of this, I’ll understand.”
Yoongi leans forward. “We’re going to help you.” His tone is final. “And you’re right, this is your decision to make. We just want to make sure that you completely understand what you’re potentially getting yourself into.”
“You are all a lot older than me,” you say, “and obviously much wiser. But I’m an adult too, and I’m mature enough to know that my actions may have consequences. I’m no stranger to making tough decisions, or to taking responsibility. I may not be a Captain by rank anymore, but that doesn’t change who I am.”
“Okay,” Namjoon says. He doesn’t argue, nor does he apologise, but he doesn’t need to. There is a mutual understanding in the way you look at each other, and nothing more needs to be said. “So, what’s the plan?”
You take in a deep breath, and prepare your mind to return to the place you’ve grown to loathe.
< prev - next >
tags: @leafyturtle, @loveyoongles, @paint-music-with-me, @barbikatherine, @itsmorgo1604, @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @veronawrites, @applepie1000, @yoonchrisgullwrites, @ally22042000, @ireallylikefoodandyoutube, @blglmgk01, @basicgukk, @softescapism, @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered, @m1nt-3lla, @hunnayesblog, @rosycheekb, @hemmofluke, @the-bisaster, @katbonv, @borahebangtan, @monodroppp, @skyys-universe
#bts#bts angst#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts fluff#bts ot7#bts ot7 x reader#bts poly#bts poly!au#bts poly au#bts reader insert#bts scenario#bts x reader#ot7 x reader#poly bts#poly bts x reader#namjoon x reader#seokjin x reader#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader#eternal#the old guard au#immortal bts
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actual fucking quotes from the shiftblr coffeehouse discord server
out of context of course, what do you take me for? a sane person?
"they made lightning mcqueen hot"
"inch resting"
"Nix: Cars (2006) several people are typing..."
"im evaporating"
"enjoy precipitation"
"tow mater is more attractive than lightning mcqueen/hj"
"lightning mcqueen looks like he would call me a slur"
"why did I come back to a discussion regarding the attractiveness of vehicles"
"lark is the braincell of shiftblr tbh"
"you all need some grass in your life"
"me over here simping for block men and now literal cars"
"didn't nick wilde commit fraud canonically"
"i have no strong opinions on whether or not nick wilde is attractive"
"I AM AROMANTIC AND I AM NOT IMMUNE TO NICK WILDE"
"I am bisexual and I. Am not into Nick Wilde based on a simple fact he looks like he will drink all my pepsi and call me names"
"What is shiftbkr but not a bunch of simps"
"cries in Bianca Monroe"
"listen i have a folder called gayass
it is mostly pictures of kyoka jiro and virgil sanders"
"Nick Wilde x Reader where he steals your car 📷 carjacker to lovers AU 📷"
"he says "mama i like to step on keyboard""
"MY MOM JUST WALKED IN AND I HAD TO TELL HER I WAS LOOKING AT LIGHTING MC QUEEN HUMAN FANART"
"crab walks away"
""Y/N..." Nick whispered into your ear. "Your car...is a Honda Civic, right?" You looked up at Nick with a baffled expression. "Nick, my beloved? Whatever are you talking about?" "Just asking..." He said as he let you out of his embrace. "Hey, wanna see a magic trick, babe?" Your eyes sparkled. "Really, Nick? Of course!" Nick smiled. "Ok, close your eyes!" You giggled and closed your eyes, waiting for Nick to tell you to open up. Instead, you heard the loud rumble of a car starting up, and you open your eyes. Nick has stolen your car, and he has driven off into the sunset..."
"did y'all know his name used to be canonically Montgomery--he changed it to lightning mcqueen to get rid of his past"
"That is my exit number"
"cars trauma arc"
"wait do y'all know about car jesus" "as if jesus wasn't a ford focus in the bible"
"oh yall do not want to know about the trauma in my cars dr lmao"
"Dewit tau style babey make Lightning McQueen outlive everyone and stalk their reincarnations"
"Do they baptize other cars in like gasoline then"
"there is a pope car in the cars universe which means car jesus died for cars sins"
"NOT THE BOOMER MEMES"
"-lays facedown on the floor while caramelldansen plays-"
"like im serious how many of you guys endorse me falling face down on my floor" (NOT THE SAME PERSON AS PREVIOUS QUOTE)
"I will be Tall and no one can stop me"
"is a soft floor?"
"stop I thought faceplant meant like a succulent in the shape of a face instead of falling onto your noggin for a solid 10 seconds"
"Touch some grass??? What about eating grass"
"what if for every employee of the month i just printed out really horrible boomer memes"
"what ab smoking grass /j"
"Can the grassdirt smoothie be a special in the cafe"
"PLEASE IM ROLLING ON THE FLOOR REWRITINH THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE WHIKE SPEEDRUNINT MINECRAFT"
"you have to get good dirt from like the middle of a pennsylvanian forest for it to taste good though"
"I ate a four leaf clover as a kid cause i thought it would make me lucky"
"guys how do i see the mee6 leaderboard"
"I used to think i was half dragon and I ate plants out of sidewalk cracks"
"i think i punched someone"
"my parents told me to stop doing that so I looked at them and ate a flower"
"I ate grass when I was 9 bc I read warrior cats and thought I was a medicine cat ....................."
"bees are just spicy flies"
"I had a mental breakdown when I was three cause I didn’t know how to turn off a phone"
"My mom drank a bee once"
"when I was a baby I kinned ink sans."
"bro who here find the yellow hat man from curious george fine as heck 📷📷📷"
"mY LUNGSSSSSS"
"no one topping Him"
"I like em big"
"I think Moto Moto has no game like move over hunky boy I could beat you 1v1 Roblox Arsenal 📷📷📷"
"If you didnt have a crush on springtrap, jeff the killer, or Underfell/Gaster/Error sans don't talk to me /j"
"LOOK THEY'RE BOTH DILFS WITH ABS THAT WOULD FIGHT GOD"
"ZORO IS BANNED"
"Guys please help I found my old fnaf fanart from when I was 8 I'm in literal tears"
"OH NO BOT MY FIFTH GRADE HAMILTON PHASE"
"The worst attraction ive ever had has to be Sombra Overwatch"
"My family is like "save all ur art so I can sell it when you're famous" I literally could not sell this if I tried"
"screaming puppet"
"I just remembered Ive drawn overwatch/hamilton crossover fanart"
"my hermit crabs ate each other again"
"we're cannibals ????"
"having me here is a curse you have inflicted on yourselves and I for one am glad for it <3" "scitters around like a crab in anticipation"
"CARB DAY"
"WE NEED TO HAVE A WATCH OARTY"
"hey y'all ill be right back i have to throw away a crab carcass"
"if I watch cars I'm going to start laughing in the middle of it nonstop just because the word cars is funny and also cars are funny like how do you move silly little metal box with rubber circles"
"Lark asleep post catboy pitbul"
"Mwista Wowldwide! Nya!" "hermit crab 2: electric boogaloo"
"Is that why your name is chaos"
"manifest the crab power!!"
"cool dex fact: i can't read 📷"
"sighs adds to worship these entities list"
"with a knife <3"
"yeah and if he betrays me I could probably throw him across the atlantic ocean"
"give me his eyes"
"my good citizen i am a- wait no im nonbinary nvm"
"it worked on a fish idk what to tell you"
"what is gender??? Is that a board game?? If so can I be apples to apples that one's my favorite"
"CHUTES AND LADDERS"
"anyways actually my gender is Candyland"
"Oh god romes the destroyer of friendships/j"
"i am a simple gay i see math i run in the opposite direction survival instincts 101"
"math my beloathed"
"algebra makes me want to rip open a bag of swedish fish and swallow them whole"
"cackles in they're au characters and this will be very fun"
"pog !!!! me too ksajgks one of my drs is a sanders sides au"
"Is that bipper"
"tumblr sexyman"
"Good because he’ll fuck u up if u hurt a child"
"I want a wing-suit"
"looks like a bean would poison someone"
"my hermit crabs are cannibals what can i say"
"sonic the hedgehog kinnie"
"get yourself a man who is capable of the most ungodly actions but won't do them because of their morality owo"
"tell him he can steal my wallet"
"eyes"
"idk about y'all but I need blueberry sweet tea to live"
"y'know the red souls from soul eater i really want to eat those"
"but like only respectable crimes like stealing from elon musk"
"You can go cultbashing with he!"
"He acts like a flamboyant gay man, but if a flamboyant gay man was straight."
"Simp Satan 📷"
"definitely arson"
"They look like they enjoy lemon squares and other lemon desserts"
"Satan is all-powerful but he spends most of his time building honeymoon locations because he is convinced that the protag loves him"
"bc shes the reincarnation of his dead wife or something i guess"
annd here's a quote from our very own dream (@shiftingwastaken) that sums this post up:
"shiftblr but context makes it worse"
#not shifting#shitpost#out of context#tw cannibalism#tw stealing#tw poison#tw swearing#tw: drugs#tw: smoking#tw: death
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Tropetember Day 9 - Historical (Regency, Ancient Greece/Rome, Prehistory etc.) / Modern / Futuristic AU
Mr Hotchner, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance (Regency AU)
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader (dresses, mention of becoming an old maid)
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: General Audiences
TW: None
AN: Day 9 of @tropetember. Yet another Hotch story that could be expanded into a small series. Not sure how effective it is a Regency piece? Any feedback would be much appreciated.
A widower with a good fortune and a son moves into the nearby great estate. Will that be any concern of yours?
Find this story on Ao3 here.
Word Count: 1.5k
When Jane Austen observed that a young man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife, she was not incorrect. The question is whether all of those criteria needed to be met for similar conclusions to be made of men in similar circumstances.
Mr Hotchner, whilst in possession of good fortune, could no longer be classed as young, being in his mid-thirties. To further complicate matters, he was a widower and had a child from his first match.
When the inhabitants of the surrounding area became acquainted with the details of the new owner of the neighbouring great estate, they too were unsure. Some claimed he would be past his prime, grief would likely have ruined him, left crags upon his face and aged him beyond his years. Others, notably those with unwed daughters, argued that a mother figure for his son and match for himself would only increase the happiness and imagined handsomeness of the fine gentleman due to enter the parish.
As it is in most cases, neither party was entirely correct. On his arrival into the county, he was noted to be a handsome man, but he never smiled. He was charming and generous, but rarely spoke unless questioned. He may be improved by feminine influence, but did not seem to be in the market for such.
Whilst you were aware of the excitement of the new neighbour, you chose not involve yourself in the fray. At nearly 29, your future as an old maid had been declared by the villagers for many years. You were lucky that your younger brother was set to inherit your fathers modest estate upon his passing. You knew your brother would continue to look after you, and in return you did what you could to help your family in the day to day.
You had been so disconnected from the gossip, that it came as a surprise when your father notified you that the family had been invited to the estate for dinner and cards. Mr Hotchner was hosting one of his friends, Sir David Rossi, and it was apparently at his suggestion that the event was conceived.
As usual before an engagement, you select a nice dress, a new one you had been treated to a few weeks earlier, made of fine fabrics and with lace trim. Your maid, Sarah, had helped you style your hair and by the end of it, even you would agree that you looked pretty. You’d never be a beauty, but you were looking your best in the spring of your late bloom.
The carriage ride to the estate was quiet. Your brother mainly discussed business with your father as your mother and yourself admired the countryside. This admiration only grew as you entered the estate’s gardens. They were spectacular. A balanced combination of wilderness and cultivation.
Pulling up, you all clambered from the carriage and were led into the house by one of the servants. Inside, a modest party of the foremost members of the neighbourhood were gathered and you greeted them as you entered. It was not until around 5 minutes later that Mr Hotchner and his friend entered.
He was very handsome, something the slightly severe expression on his face could not hide. You could not help but watch as he slowly made his way around the room. He had a very authoritative presence, but not in an arrogant or rude way. It seemed more that he was aware of his role and status.
It was not long until it was your turn to be introduced to him. You curtsied and shyly met his eyes as you rose back to full height. For the first time in many years, you felt your breath catch slightly.
Your eyes were drawn away from Mr Hotchner’s as Sir David was also introduced to you. He was older than his companion, with a well maintained beard and a gentle grin resting on his features. He was also effortlessly charming but in a more extroverted manner than his friend.
You conversed with the pair for a while, polite conversation you make with new acquaintances about how they are enjoying the area and settling and such. It is not until dinner is called that you’re reluctantly separated. Good conversationalists were sorely lacking in this part of the world and you were already looking forward to getting to know them.
Dinner was a tasty and lively affair, with many laughs and much conversation. Afterwards the gentlemen separate off to have their whisky, leaving the women to gossip and you to nip out to answer the call of nature.
On your way back, you are met with an unexpected sight.
At the bottom of the main staircase stands a young boy in a dressing gown, stuffed toy in hand. Seeing that he looks upset, you slowly approach him and smile gently.
“Hello” you greet him. “Are you well?” you ask the little boy, not wanting to crowd him but unsure why he is upset.
He shakes his head shyly and his eyes stay trained on the floor. It breaks your heart a little.
Bobbing down, you pull a handkerchief from the hidden pocket in your dress to gently wipe his tears. Once they’re cleared away, you introduce yourself to him.
He reaches out a hand as his manners kick. “I’m Jack Hotchner. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
His voice isn’t full bodied but it’s a good start.
“Well, what a polite young gentleman.” He smiles at you for the compliment and holds himself a little taller. “Where might you be heading this late at night.”
“I," he pauses, "I want to see my father.”
You nod your head.
“Of course young sir” you give a theatrical bow to offer your hand to him which makes him giggle as he takes hold, “follow me.”
You head down to the room you saw the men head into and knock gently, hearing Mr Hotchner call for you to enter.
Gently pushing the door, you answer his questioning expression. “I found someone in the entrance hall who wished to see you.” He looks concerned until he spots his son’s head peeking around you. His face breaks out into a large smile which makes him appear far more youthful than you would have guessed. Sir David’s tales of him being a heartbreaker may not be as exaggerated as you first believed.
He greets the young boy, taking his hands as he lowers himself to his son’s level to ask what is wrong. On discovery of Jack having had a nightmare, he brings him into the room, thanking you for looking after him and releasing you to head back to the ladies.
Your mother immediately corners you upon your return and you do your best to divert her by claiming to have been appreciating the art decorating the corridors. It is not necessarily a lie, the house itself is beautiful enough itself to be considered such, but you doubt Mr Hotchner would appreciate you sharing his son’s nightmares with people who are strangers to him.
You do not have to distract your mother for long thankfully, as the gentlemen soon return and card tables are drawn up. There are slightly too many people for everyone to play so you offer to sit out and take a seat on a nearby settee with one of the books from the shelves. You are slightly surprised when a small body, now dressed in his father’s suit jacket, settles on the cushion next to you.
As you entertain the young Hotchner, you are unaware of the discussion taking place across the room.
“She seems good with him,” observes Sir David, deliberately keeping his voice down and pretending to contemplate his cards.
Mr Hotchner shoots him a withering glance before allowing, “she does. In general, she seems like a lovely woman. I am glad we have made her acquaintance.”
Sir David hums as his gaze drifts back to you, now teaching the young boy some sort of clapping game. “You know, I would be rather upset with you if you were not to throw a ball before I am to leave for London.”
“I believe you are meddling again Sir David,” Mr Hotchner plays a card as he continues, “but I will speak to the staff tomorrow about organising one.”
“You will be expected to dance, since you are hosting.”
Despite not normally being one to give into his friends' schemes, Mr Hotchner nods, eyes once again fixed on you.
“I’m sure I can find someone suitable,” he says and at that moment your eyes meet his. Yes, he thinks, he is sure you will dance as beautifully as you smile.
#tropetember#fanfiction#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x you#jack hotchner#david rossi#Regency AU#meet cute#female reader
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Winter Passing | Chapter 12
Summary: After car accident leaves him at the base of a mountain with no sign of civilization for miles, a breakup is the least of Henry’s problems. Just as death’s icy fingers begin to coil around him, salvation presents itself in the form of an old cabin in a clearing. Despite years of being told fairy tales and ghost stories that warn against such things, he uses his last of his strength to reach the cottage. When he wakes, he finds not a demon, but an angel, long removed from the insanity of the modern world. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: A wee bit of angst. A/N : To make up for the last update, this one was far easier to hash out, and ended up being longer than I even planned. Enjoy!
Stepping foot inside the coven took Henry’s breath away. Gone was any sense of Roman architecture, replaced by the arresting columns and vaulted ceilings made fashionable by the Gothic movement. Looking up, Henry’s eyes widened as he realized the pinnacles of the ceilings were open to a sky that seemed not-of-earth. Stars shone not only white, but pink, purple, and blue, while the moon looked as though it might sink into the entryway at any moment, hanging so close, Henry felt like he could reach out to touch it.
While he knew that they’d just been out in the sunlight, being under the cover of darkness inside somehow felt more fitting. Hand clasped tightly in Olivia’s, Henry found himself unable to move, rooted to his spot as he took in the grandeur and magic of a sky so familiar, yet so very, very different from his own. Were it not for the feel of Olivia’s soft palm against his, Henry would have sworn he was in a dream.
When he finally managed to tear his eyes away from what was above him, Henry took in the impressive surroundings, finding them equally as captivating as the night sky. Each stone archway was intricately carved and immediately caught his gaze. Some told part of a story, like the stations of the cross, others were adorned with what he could only imagine were symbols important to the coven; some simply held filigree the likes of which he was accustomed to seeing in ancient buildings all across Europe. Every 20 paces or so was an ornate candle-lit chandelier, the yellow of the flames contrasting nicely against the wash of blue light from the night sky. Marble statues twice his size and portraits painted during the renaissance flanked each walkway, Henry finding it oddly bittersweet that he wouldn’t have time to take in each one. It took a gentle tug on his hand to bring Henry out of the whirlwind of art and history, and looking down at Olivia, he couldn’t help his sheepish smile.
“I know. It’s a lot to take in. We don’t have much time. Dinner’s in half an hour,” Olivia smiled knowingly, jerking her head towards one of the two grand staircases.
“Is this a formal dinner?” He asked as they followed an usher up the stairs, Henry’s voice soft and almost conspiratorial as they went.
“Yes, but don’t worry, you won’t be underdressed. There’s a reason I packed light,” Olivia winked, pausing behind the usher as the man opened the door to her apartments.
“Bigger than I imagined,” Henry breathed, walking into a room fit for a 14th century princess. An ornately-carved, four-poster bed covered in navy velvet took up the majority of the room, with a matching mahogany fireplace across from it. As he watched Olivia step over to it, Henry had to press his lips together to keep from chuckling. Unlike the hearth back home, this one was taller than Olivia, allowing enough space for her to walk into it if she chose.
“Shall I be wearing chainmail for tonight’s festivities?” He joked, Henry moving to take a seat at the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on Olivia as he watched her start a fire with a simple snap of her fingers.
With the room well on its way to being adequately heated for the night, Olivia gave Henry a deadpan smile. “Hardly, unless you consider a tux the modern equivalent,” she replied, moving to stand between his legs, her expression softening as she met his gaze.
“Thank you for coming with. I know it’s a lot in a short span, but I feel better with you here, rather than leaving you alone out there with no idea how to defend against that apparition,” she whispered, stroking her hand across his cheek, grinning at how his stubble felt against her fingers.
“I’m thrilled to tag along. This has been incredible and we’ve only just arrived,” Henry whispered back, cupping Olivia’s face in both hands before giving her a sound kiss, leaving no doubt that he was there for her, and enjoying every moment of it.
Though Olivia wanted nothing more than to fall back into the soft sheets and connect with Henry the way they tended to do whenever they had a free moment, she knew the schedule was tight and that Theofina would not appreciate their tardiness.
“Alright handsome, get up, time for your fitting,” Olivia smirked, knowing it would take a bit longer to prepare Henry than it would for her to dress. “Arms out, legs slightly apart, like you’re at the tailor’s, please.”
She watched the confusion grow on Henry’s face, Olivia hiding her smile as she walked slowly around him. The idea had been in her head since the first invitation, but had finalized only as they’d driven from Rome to the gates.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her right hand until it was level with Henry’s chest. Like he’d seen happen before, waves began to form right in Olivia’s palm. This time however, the water was the color of the sea at midnight, the waves far calmer than he’d seen in the past. Mesmerized by the glint of the water against the moonlight that filled their room, Henry didn’t notice Olivia moving her left hand into position.
A sudden burst of cold hit him, forcing Henry to shut his eyes momentarily as he shivered against the temperature change. When he opened them again, he found himself donning a navy tuxedo jacket with black lapels, a white shirt with labradorite buttons, slacks the same inky blue as the jacket, and to top it all off, a black bowtie and patent-leather Oxfords. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror next to the hearth, Henry found that Olivia had even managed to style his hair, his curls defined and not weighed down in the slightest; it was the best he’d ever looked, for any event he’d been invited to.
“Wow.” He managed, smoothing a hand over his lapel admiringly.
“That’s nothing. Watch this,” Olivia smirked, giving Henry a wink before stepping back. With the same left hand raised, this time towards herself, Olivia raised both hands over her head as she began to spin. Henry watched as the water in her palm began to cascade down, coating her as though it were paint. With one final spin, her street clothes vanished, a gown fit for a queen in their place.
Henry gasped out of instinct, having never seen Olivia look more stunning. With a lace-covered bodice and a train that mimicked the ocean waves she was a master at creating, Olivia looked every inch the powerful witch Henry knew her to be. It was the color, however, that put the cherry on top. A deep hue reminiscent of the sky above them, the color against Olivia’s olive skin was breathtaking. Mouth ajar, Henry stood transfixed, more impressed by the woman in front of him than of any statue or painting.
The coven hadn’t seen a human in its midst in quite some time, or so it seemed, at least to Olivia. As they descended the grand staircase, she knew all eyes were on them, and for once, was grateful for the veil those of her order wore during any event. Dyed to match her ensemble, Olivia felt secure in the knowledge that she was one of the best-dressed at the celebration of Imbolc, a fact confirmed when she heard several other witches’ teeth clicking as she passed them on their way into the great hall.
Stopped at the door only to be given a candle, Olivia let any thoughts of others disappear as she closed her eyes, took a breath, and remembered those who had come before--most importantly, her mother.
She took in the hall as she opened her eyes, finding peace and beauty in the multitude of white candles that filled the room, knowing that if nothing else, she’d enjoy a proper celebration of Imbolc, not the simplistic version she was used to year after year.
“You’ve set tongues wagging,” Estrella’s voice made Olivia beam, and in looking over, she found her closest friend looking immaculate in a gold and black ensemble that brought back memories of wars long forgotten.
“You kept them,” Olivia mused softly, reaching out to touch one of Estrella’s many gold arm bands reverently.
“How could I not?.”
The two touched foreheads, saying more with silence than they ever could with words. Henry watched the exchange with respectful interest, realizing for the first time how little he knew of Olivia’s history. Whatever had occurred between them, Henry knew it had only served to bring them closer, and for that, he was glad. Olivia had seemed like such a solitary creature at first, that knowing she had at least one friend who was like blood to her, eased his heart a little.
It was Theofina’s voice that broke the moment, her low tone one that immediately called for respect and attention. No matter what they were doing, the whole of the coven stopped to listen.
“Welcome all to our celebration. Imbolc is a time of hope and renewal of strength. Of new life, and growth. A promise of things to come and a light at the end of the darkness. We come together tonight not only to reamplify our power, but to grow stronger as a coven. Welcome to all who are joining us for the first time, or for the first time in years. May you seek that which you wander for. Let us begin the feast!”
Not five minutes into dinner and she could feel the stares directed at Henry, most of them lustful in quality. The women of her coven had never bowed to the societal pressure to be modest or demure. If they wanted a man, they made it plainly apparent, and despite being a mere mortal, the women of Athanato Fengari wanted Henry.
Olivia’s only saving grace was that Henry seemed to pay them no mind, his attentive gaze fixed solely on her and his plate as they ate. Bolstered by tender touches to her back and hair, Henry silently made it clear he only had eyes for her, and as dinner progressed, she relaxed and began to actually enjoy her food.
Just as she was finishing her plate of Parthian chicken and fire-roasted vegetables, Olivia felt a tap at her shoulder. Looking up, she came face-to-face with Theofina, the older woman wearing a wry smile that immediately put Olivia on edge again.
“Nice of you and your…plus one to join us,” she greeted, her tone withering as she looked down at the couple.
“Thank you for having us,” Olivia said, feigning a smile for the benefit of everyone watching. Without looking, she knew that everyone in range was looking at them, not only because Henry was human, but because Theofina so rarely singled people out during festivities.
“It’ll be your first Imbolc in the coven since--”
“Yes, since then,” Olivia cut her off, not about to let Theofina air out the past in front of members she didn’t even recognize. Though she was under no illusion that her history wasn’t been spread like wildfire each time a new class of girls initiated into the coven, she didn’t want anyone getting the pleasure of hearing it from the horse’s mouth.
“Well, you know the offer still stands, even though you’ve chosen a mere human as your temporary companion. We have…ways of making it work. All you have to do--”
Olivia stood abruptly, her face mere inches from Theofina’s. There was heat behind her glare, and though she stood firm, her hands shook visibly.
“I will never agree to that arrangement and you know it. I see now the true reason why you summoned me. I should have known things would never change with you still in power. My mother was right about you. Absolutely right.” Olivia spat, her eyes filled with fury and anguish for the past.
Without allowing Theofina time to respond, Olivia fled the great hall, tearing into a run as soon as she was outside the room, not stopping until she reached the scrying pool in the garden. Tears washed down her cheeks as she collapsed at the edge of the inky water, not noticing it slowly begin to swirl.
Henry, who’d bolted out of his seat as soon as Olivia had left the room, was only a few steps behind, his strides getting longer as he stepped over the beginnings of the newly-planted hedge maze that would soon envelop the pool. His expression softened when he saw Olivia curled over, hands covering her face.
“My love?” He spoke softly as he approached, Henry reaching out to smooth a hand down Olivia’s exposed back, before taking her chin in hand so she could meet his gaze. She could only manage a moment’s glance, before a fresh wave of tears caused her face to crumple in grief once more. Henry moved swiftly, sitting down and easily bringing her into his protective embrace. Cradling Olivia close, he simply held her as she cried, knowing better than to offer platitudes for a situation he still didn’t fully understand.
Slowly, the sobs turned to whimpers, then to the staccato silence of someone trying to regain their normal breathing pattern. Eyes closed, Henry could feel the pain radiating off Olivia in waves, crashing against his own heart despite the fact that she was composing herself.
“I’ve always wondered if my mother’s death was truly an accident. Witches, in general, aren’t exactly the type to have accidents. We don’t kill easy. Theofina’s unrelenting need for the power that runs through my veins--that ran through my mother’s--makes me wonder if the rumors are true. And her wanting me to get pregnant...Gods, I could only imagine what she would do to the infant. It’s why I had it all removed in the first place.”
“You had a hysterectomy. That’s why you said I was shooting into a desert.” Henry remembered their conversation, understanding now why she could speak on the subject with so much more ease than other women who’d had the same procedure under different circumstances. Olivia nodded, turning her gaze to the scrying waters. With a wave of her hand, she brought up a scene that though silent, nevertheless made Henry immediately hold her tighter, his expression creasing in pain for his beloved.
There in the murky ripples, was a scene reminiscent of the Spanish Inquisition. Olivia’s face contorted in a perpetual scream as Estrella worked quickly to remove the organs that both women knew couldn’t stay. Panic filled the room, Estrella continually looking over her shoulder between cuts, urged on by her friend’s pain and need. Olivia’s face was pale and clammy, each muscle strained taught as she fought to remain conscious through the ordeal. Unconsciously, Henry cupped her head, pulling it flush to his chest before kissing her crown over and over again.
“Estrella was kind enough to help me; she risked not only her life, but her place in the coven for me. She was quick with the blade, and ensured I recovered properly.” Olivia’s voice lowered to a whisper before she added, “She keeps that which is most sacred hidden away, where even I can’t find it.”
Henry squeezed her close, holding on tightly, until the image on the water had passed, replaced by that of an older woman. Looking closer, Henry recognized the face immediately, though the fear associated with it vanished, the new version of it full of life. Kind eyes nearly identical to Olivia’s stared back at him, the woman’s expression filled with joy and appreciation.
You were made for her as she was made for you. Keep her heart and she’ll keep yours. Remember… Life is full of surprises.
Jolting as he heard the voice clear as day in his head, Henry looked down to find Olivia’s tears had returned, this time hand-in-hand with a smile just as bright as her mother’s.
“Mater,” Olivia whimpered, reaching out to touch the water, her fingers stopping mere inches from the surface as she realized that moving the water would break the image.
“I miss you so much. There wasn’t enough time. You still had things to teach me.”
The words, coupled with Olivia’s tears, left Henry’s own vision blurring. Though he had no idea how long it had been since her passing, he knew to count himself lucky; his own mother was still alive and just a phone call away. Without realizing it, he began to rock Olivia, tears slipping down his cheeks as he watched the two communicate in silence.
A rustle in the garden made them both look up, Henry quickly wiping his tears as he readied himself for another confrontation between Olivia and Theofina. Instead, he found Estrella and a few other women standing just beyond the hedge maze, each holding a candle.
“It’s time, sister,” Estrella spoke softly, her expression one of understanding as she caught sight of the tear tracks on Olivia’s face. With a discreet wiggle of her fingers in the water, Olivia made the image of her mother disappear before standing. Taking a deep breath, she wiped a hand over her face, Henry watching in awe as any sign of her tears disappeared, Olivia looking as fresh and put together as she had upstairs, hours before. Wiping his own eyes once more, he followed her as she cut back across the hedges and joined her sisters.
Watching as the line of men and women shuffled ever closer to the door of the great hall, Henry began to feel his nerves take over. Though he knew how to do it, he’d never considered himself a great dancer. He watched, hugging Olivia from behind as each couple in front of them were announced and promptly took the floor, moving swiftly around the great hall in what he could only assume was a Foxtrot or some variation of it; whatever version it was, it included far more spins and turns than he’d ever done with anyone.
Squeezing his hand, Olivia smiled up at him reassuringly. “Don’t fret. I’ll be the one getting dizzy,” she joked, giving his forearm a gentle jostle.
As their name was called, Olivia moved into position, slipping one hand in his while the other slid up to his shoulder. With a bright smile, she counted down and moved them out, leading only for a moment until Henry got his bearings.
The candles seemed to flit in and around them, dancing it seemed, along with everyone in the hall. Before he knew it, they had already lapped the room, not one foot out of place. Head held high, Olivia beamed up at him, pride and love clear in her gaze.
The more they danced, the more time seemed to slow. Looking at all the blurry, passing faces in the crowd, Henry could feel the energy being created, each spin and turn amplifying it to such a degree that he wondered whether those in the outside world could see it, a homing beacon of sorts.
He was in awe, shaking his head as they went for another lap, unable to fathom how every movement felt so light and effortless; it was as if he’d been a ballroom dancer all his life. Though he was almost positive a certain element of magic was involved, he couldn’t put his finger on when it had happened, and dared not think too hard on it lest it break whatever hold on him it had.
Instead, he waited for the swell of the music, and when the time was just right, he leaned down and kissed Olivia with all the love he had in his heart, hoping it was enough to lift the heaviness of the day, if only for one, perfect moment.
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Summary: Kuro is a mangaka and Mahiru is his editor. They visit London to do research for Kuro’s new shoujo manga. (KuroMahi, Modern AU)
“I’m back, Kuro! The meeting with the marketing department took me longer than I thought so I expect you to have your storyboards finished!” Mahiru called into the condo as he bent down to take off his shoes. The heavy bag he carried was lifted off his shoulder and he turned around to see Kuro. He hanged the bag on the wall for him. “Since you’re being so considerate right now, am I right to assume that you didn’t finish the chapter yet?”
“Ran out of inspiration.” Kuro said and tapped his finger against Mahiru’s lips. While Mahiru tried to feign annoyance, his faint blush betrayed his true emotions. He placed his hands on his strong shoulders and lifted himself onto his toes until he could kiss him softly. He thought a brief kiss would be enough for him but Kuro cupped his cheeks to steal a longer one. He whispered. “Welcome home, Mahiru.”
“Trying to put me in a good mood won’t get you out of trouble.” He nipped at Kuro’s lower lips before he let go of himself. Mahiru walked into the apartment they shared and threw himself onto the couch. He was tired after the meeting he had and he wanted to rest. “How far along are you in the storyboards? I’ll look them over for possible corrections.”
“I only need to finish the last two pages. Since it’s a two-page spread, it should only count as one page, right? That’s not much so don’t be mad.” Kuro collected a few sketchbooks from his work desk and then joined him on the couch. Mahiru sat up so there would be enough room for both of them. “You can look over what I have so far.”
Mahiru placed the sketchbook on his knee and flipped through the pages. He worked as Kuro’s editor for years and he enjoyed his manga series. Eventually, Mahiru fell in love with the man. They started dating but they had to keep their relationship a secret. It was unprofessional for an editor to date their manga artist and he would be fired if they were discovered.
When they decided to live together, they told others that it was so he could keep track of Kuro’s work better. He had an infamous reputation of missing deadlines and then sending the chapter around midnight. Kuro was talented but people found his work schedule impossible to manage. His past editors often asked to be assigned to another mangaka after a few missed deadlines.
Mahiru never gave up on him though. He would visit him every night to see his progress on the chapters and help him coordinate his schedule with the publishing company. It was clear that he loved helping mangaka publish their work. He was the best editor he had in his career and the effort Mahiru put into his job pushed Kuro to work harder as well.
“A talk show requested an interview with Sleepy Ash for the release of the new volume. You were finally able to surpass the sales of the former bestseller. I told them that you were too busy to give a public interview but you’ll send them a statement.” Mahiru told him.
“Thanks.” Since Kuro wanted to keep his privacy, he published his manga under a pseudonym. He leaned against Mahiru and showed him a sketch. “What do you think of this European cottage for the hideout?”
“This is beautiful but you should make the cottage more rustic. Thinking simply, they wouldn’t hide in something that stands out. Maybe have more trees around it too.” Mahiru suggested and Kuro nodded. He flipped to a new page and he started a new design for the cottage. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed Mahiru pull out a few magazines from his bag. “I picked up some travel magazines while I was out.”
Instead of handing them to Kuro, he sat on his lap and opened the magazine. “You said that you wanted to have the two leads go to Europe in a future chapter but you were having trouble choosing where. These might help you find one that suits the main couple. There are pictures in here that you can use for reference as well.”
“I was trying to choose between London or Paris. People say that Paris is the most romantic place to have a honeymoon. On the other hand, I grew up in London so I won’t have to do as much research for the chapter.” Kuro rested his cheek on Mahiru’s head and watched him flip to a different page. “Do you think I’ll be able to fly to London and do a little research? It’ll only be for a few days.”
“I can discuss the idea with the chief editor but it might be difficult to arrange the trip. The boss shouldn’t mind as long as you submit next month’s installment well before your deadline.” Mahiru started to rearrange their schedule in his mind. “If you add in travel time, you’ll be gone for a week. I’ll miss you while you’re in London. Make sure that you call every night so I know you’re eating properly.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I was actually hoping that you would come to London with me. The university that I went to has a flower nursery that I know you’ll love. We can visit those tourist traps for couples too.” Kuro suggested. “You deserve a break.”
Last month was December and the publishing company wanted each of the mangaka to contribute special chapters and illustrations for the holiday. Mahiru worked late into the night to manage so many projects at once and review their work for publication. Now that the holiday rush was over and their job had slowed down, Kuro thought they could relax.
“I’ve never travelled outside of Japan before.” While he didn’t tell him directly, Mahiru knew that he suggested the vacation for his sake. Kuro was the type to show his feelings through his actions rather than direct words. Mahiru could feel his love in how he held him and supported him. A warmth fluttered in his stomach and then spread throughout his body. “I’ll ask for Misono’s approval tomorrow.”
“We can tell him that you’re going to supervise me while I’m in London. That’s the same thing we told everyone when you moved in and they believed it.” Kuro wished that he could tell more people about their relationship but he would never ask Mahiru to give up the job he loved. A vacation in London would allow them to go on a date like a normal couple. He buried his face into the nape of his neck and savoured his warmth. “I know a place we can stay that’s cheap but it’s still comfortable.”
“Honestly, I’m a little curious about your childhood in London.” Mahiru stared at the rose garden featured in the magazine and he imagined Kuro standing among the flowers like a scene from a shoujo. He turned the page and read the description of a statue. “The Mask of Truth? Maybe we can take a detour and go to Rome. I want to ask the mask whether a stray cat truly stole the last slice of pie like he said.”
“You should’ve seen the cat scale the wall to reach our window and steal your pie. He must’ve heard the legend of your wonderful baking.” Kuro’s silly story caused Mahiru to laugh. They both knew he wasn’t truly upset at him for eating the pie and he was only teasing him. Mahiru leaned back into his chest and reached up to stroke his hair.
“We can have as much cake as we want in London.” Kuro was wealthy with his job as a popular mangaka but Mahiru rarely asked him for anything. He respected how independent Mahiru was but he wanted to give him an easy life. “I should finish that new chapter so we can go on our vacation.”
“If only you can be this motivated all the time, Kuro.” Mahiru said but he knew how hard Kuro worked. He remembered the nights he found him asleep on his desk. In the past, Kuro ate instant noodles rather than a proper meal because it was quicker to make. He was able to see a side of him that others didn’t. Mahiru kissed his cheek lightly before he stood. “I’ll start making dinner.”
The plane ride from Tokyo to London took twelve hours and Kuro’s body was stiff after sitting for so long. He slept through most of the trip with his head on Mahiru’s shoulder and his presence made the cramp chair a little more comfortable. “If they make plane seats any smaller, they’ll be the size of baby chairs. I don’t know how you were able to work on the plane.”
“Those seats would be uncomfortable for a tall person like you.” Since Kuro was half British, he was taller than him. His strong features were appealing to Mahiru. He reached out to him and took his hand. “Misono said that it would be difficult for me to join you on this trip. We made a compromise that I can go as long as I work on the proposal for Tetsu’s new poetry collection during the trip. I wanted to finish the report on the plane so I could have more time with you in London.”
Kuro forgot how tired he was after he felt Mahiru’s warmth and he squeezed his hand slightly. He brought their interlocked fingers to his lips so he could kiss his hand. They both worked hard to be able to go on the trip and there were dark circles under Mahiru’s eyes. “Are you hungry? Airport food isn’t that great but it’s better than nothing. I’ll order us breakfast while you find us a table.”
“Okay. We have a lot of time before we need to sign into the hotel so there’s no rush.” Kuro handed Mahiru his suitcase and walked to the food stands nearby. They lived together and they knew each other well so he could guess what Mahiru would want for breakfast. He was glad that the line was short and he wouldn’t have to wait.
Mahiru found an empty booth and he set the suitcases next to each other. They were only staying for a few days so they didn’t pack a lot. Still, he had looked forward to the trip for the past week. A smile appeared on his lips as he imagined the different places they would visit. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed a stall that sold maps.
He kept the suitcases close to him as he walked to the stall. Kuro grew up in London but Mahiru thought they should have a map in case they become lost. A lot could change in a city, even in ten years. He chose a thick booklet that included pictures of different attractions. His English wasn’t the best but he tried to start a conversation with the cashier. “Hello. I am a tourist. I want to go on a date in London. Do you know a place that is very romantic?”
He and Kuro already had a list of attractions they planned to visit. He thought he should ask a local about other places they go. Mahiru held out the map to the cashier with the expectation that he would point to a spot. He was surprised when the man grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer. The desk was between them and Mahiru winced as his knee struck the wood.
“I thought Japanese men were more reserved but you asked me on a date before you even knew my name. You’re cute so I’ll accept. My shift ends in a few hours so wait for me in front of the airport.” He said and Mahiru realized that he misunderstood him.
“I did not mean that, Sir. I already have a boyfriend and I was asking about a date with him.” He tried to pull his hand out of the man’s grip. English had always been his worst subject and he wished he knew the language better. “Let go, Sir!”
“What are you doing to my boyfriend?” Relief washed over Mahiru the moment he heard Kuro’s voice. He placed himself between the two and the glare he aimed at the man was enough to make him let go of Mahiru. Kuro wrapped his arm around his waist and he naturally leaned into him. It didn’t seem the man had hurt him but he asked, “Are you okay, Mahiru?”
“He was the one who asked me out so shouldn’t you be mad at your boyfriend instead of me?” The cashier retorted and his words caused Kuro’s eyes to draw together. They began to speak in quick English and Mahiru couldn’t understand their discussion. “He asked me out.”
“I know Mahiru and he wouldn’t do something like that. You obviously misunderstood or something. Do you often try to grab tourists like this? I wasn’t going to report you to your boss because it would be troublesome. I don’t like people who lie about my boyfriend though.” Mahiru didn’t know what he told the cashier but it seemed to silence the cashier.
Kuro picked up the luggage next to them but he kept one arm around Mahiru’s waist. He led him away from the cashier. Beside him, Mahiru said: “Thank you, Kuro. I heard that other countries are more forward than Japan. Should I be more careful? You grew up in London so you act more casual with people but you never grabbed me like that.”
“That guy was just a creep.” Kuro said. He pulled Mahiru closer to him and kissed his forehead. He was glad that he could finally be affectionate with Mahiru in public. They both wanted to keep their relationship private but it was difficult since he was a popular mangaka. “When I moved to Tokyo, I was surprised by how different it was to London. But I’m not the type to be this affectionate with others. You’re the only one I would hold close like this.”
“How many pictures do you need to take of me for ‘references’, Kuro?” Mahiru sat on the ledge of a fence. They walked along the River Thames and Kuro would occasionally ask him to stand in front of an attraction for a picture. He claimed that he needed someone in the photo so he would have a reference for perspective and proportions. “I’m fine with posing for you but don’t put me in your manga as a character or anything like that. It’ll be embarrassing.”
“I won’t.” Kuro promised after he took another photo. He didn’t include Mahiru as a character in his shoujo series but he was the muse behind most of his work. His work had become more hopeful and warmer after they started dating. “I’m pretty sure if I put you into the series, the villain would be defeated by you easily. You’re the only person who can be both scary and cute when you glare.”
“Oh please, Kuro.” He rolled his eyes but there was a blush on his cheeks. He put the camera into his bag and then walked forward to help Mahiru off the fence. When he stepped in front of him, Mahiru shook his head and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Kuro didn’t know what he intended to do but he stood still. Mahiru leaned on his shoulder for balance as he took out his phone. “This photo is for just us.”
“I’ll take it for you. Do you want the bridge in the background?” Kuro asked as he handed the phone to him. He held the phone at armlength and pulled Mahiru closer against his side so they could both fit into the photo. As he pressed the button, Kuro kissed his cheek lightly. He couldn’t help but grin as he pulled away and saw how flustered he was. “Do you like the photo? I can take another one if you want.”
“I like this one already.” Mahiru smiled at the image briefly before he put his phone back into pocket. He slid off the fence and into his arms. He stumbled slightly and he instinctively reached out to Kuro to catch himself. They didn’t have to worry about people discovering their relationship while they were in London so he wanted to savour the opportunity to hold him close. “Thanks, Kuro. You’re saving me a lot today.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t fall backwards into the lake. This cat is terrible at swimming.” They both knew that he would try to rescue him if he did fall into the water so Mahiru only laughed at his words. He stepped back from him and brushed the dirt from his pants. He took his hand and they continued to walk along the water. “The rose garden should be a few blocks from here.”
“London is tightly packed and we can easily walk places.” Mahiru said and squeezed his hand. They had already planned most of their trip but he would also have fun simply walking with him through the streets. “I know you find walking troublesome. How about we try one of those carriage rides? It might inspire a scene where the characters escape the villains with a horse and buggy.”
“I don’t mind walking like this.” Kuro shrugged but his words made Mahiru happy. “While we’re walking, we should try to find a local bookstore. Hyde made me promise to buy him some books as souvenirs. First edition Shakespeare collections.”
“Don’t get me started on the list of things Licht wants us to bring back.” Mahiru laughed. He rested his head against Kuro’s strong shoulder and smiled up at him. He tried to remember the English phases Misono taught him while they prepared for their trip. “Is there something you fancy, Kuro?”
“I fancy you.” He replied and his alluring voice created flutters in Mahiru’s stomach.
“You’ll have to wait until we get back to the hotel for that. Remember, we came here to do research on possible settings and locations for your next shoujo.” He reaches into Kuro’s pocket for his camera. Mahiru started to scroll through the photos. He paused on the image of Kuro eating fish and chips. It was a simple image but he thought he looked handsome and relaxed. “Maybe I should buy a cook book and try some new recipes.”
Before they met, Kuro would only eat instant ramen. He remembered the long lecture Mahiru gave him when he found his kitchen overflowing with ramen cups. He cooked him a proper meal after he finished yelling at him. They would eat together since that day and Kuro was certain he couldn’t go back to eating junk food. Mahiru had always supported him as more than an editor.
Kuro didn’t know when he fell in love with him but couldn’t see a future without Mahiru next to him.
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The Fast and Furious Times Of Marinette
Today I found a wonderful tag called Bio Dad AU. Best ones by @musicfeedsmysoul12 . I decided to try a quick hand at it. Weirdly enough, my first thought was the Fast and The Furious. I was a huge fan of serious before Paul Walker died. Brian O'Conner was always my favorite. This is the first fast and furious anything I’ve ever written. I’ve decided it takes place AFTER Fast 6; meaning they all got their pardons. But in this AU. Both SHAWs are alive and well and friends with the team for reason. Brian and Mia are not and have never been together. No offense, but if I’m writing a Fast and Furious fic Dom and Brian are the pairing and will be my OTP.
This is again just a quick fic. A PURE CRACK FIC, so be warned. Might not doing anything more with it.
On with the CRACK.
Marinette is eight-years-old when her racist grandfather tells that Tom isn’t her dad. Marinette had already been one-years-old by the time Sabine met him.
She doesn’t believe it at first but then she looks in the mirror and sees her blue, blue eyes. No one her family has eyes like hers. Then she really looks at the picture of her and her dad together realizes they don’t look alike at all. It’s not even because Marinette is biracial. There is little to no resemblance.
Her parents find her crying on her bedroom floor, clutching her phone to her chest. They are quick to try to comfort her, try to find out what’s wrong, and when they finally come her down enough for her to speak, Marinette looks at the time with big sad eyes and just asks, “Are you, my dad?”
Sabine and Tom are stunned at first, then her question hits them, and realization slowly inches onto their faces. And its all the answer Marinette needs.
Tom loves the little girl he raised so much and as much as he wished he wasn’t her biological father, “In every way that counts I am,” He assures his little girl, “Except blood. But I am your dad. You are my daughter.”
Sabine apologizes for withholding the truth for so long, “We were a family. I was scared,” She admits.
Cue huge family hug.
A few days go by before Marinette has the courage to ask about her biological father, “Who was he?” She suddenly asked. “My father?” The question caused Sabine to stumble and cause an entire cake to hit Tom in the face.
“His name is Brian,” Sabine said as she handed Marinette an old picture of a young sabine with a handsome blonde man with startling blue eyes, Marinette’s eyes, at a food truck near palm trees. “Brian O’Conner. I met him on a beach in LA. I thought he had a serial killer name. He was wild and beautiful, and so free. You’re a lot like him. You have his eyes and his smile. And his heart.”
Marinette stared at the man in the picture, wondering if he too was clumsy if he was the reason she loved to go fast too because she liked to go really, really fast on her bike if he was where she got her daringness, her need to the right thing. “Does he know about me?”
“No,” Her mom answered, “I had already left for Paris by the time I found out. I didn’t want to upheave his life.” Truthfully, she didn’t know how to tell her daughter that her biological father had been a street racer, on the run from the police and spent quite a bit of time in hiding.
It took an hour after Sabine left Marinette along with the picture for the young girl to get angry. Who was this man? What was so important about his life that her mother wouldn’t dare wreck. Marinette was going to find out.
It took some time but with a little research and luck, Marinette was able to find Brian was still in L.A.
Marinette bought a plane ticket using her mom’s credit card, packed a bag, left a note for parents, and left in the middle of the night on a flight to Los Angeles. It had been tricky. Some people asked questions but Marinette just she was visiting her dad in the U.S. She was glad her mom made her learn English as a second language, though now it was obvious as to why.
It took a few hours and had taken a lot different buses, but Marinette found herself standing in front of a white house that was erupting with noise.
“A party?” Marinette asked quietly.
The bluenette swallowed hard and fought the urge to run away. She had come too far. Ignored too many of her parents’ phone calls to back down. She just texted then every day that she was okay and that she would be home soon.
Marinette rang the doorbell.
A tall, bald, handsome, laughing black man answered the door. He nodded at the young girl, “Can I help you?” Girl scout, he thought.
Marinette clutched the strap of her pink bag, “Is Brian O’Connor here?”
Rome’s eyes squinted as he surveyed the girl and then he noticed her eyes. He knew those eyes. The biggest smile spread over his face. “This gonna be good,” He said. “Name’s Roman. Or Rome. Come on inside, my new favorite person in the world.”
Marinette followed the man into the house. She was right. There was a loud, movie-worthy party going on. The music was loud, strange people were dying. She felt more than a little weary and a little claustrophobic. She looked around but didn’t see who she was looking for.
One by one the guest of the party noticed the little girl in pink with pigtails in the room. The music slowly died down. A scary bald man, in a dark wife-beater, with a beer (Corona, Marinette read) and had been laughing with a scruffy breaded man when she entered the room, slowly lost his smile when he noticed her.
He was possibly the scariest man Marinette had never laid eyes on.
“YO Brian,” Roman yelled, the smile still huge on his face. “You got company!”
All eyes turned to her. The scary man got out of his seat and stared at her.
“Oh this can’t be good,” Taj said to Suki, who nodded.
Again Marinette fought the urge to run. She glanced at the floor and bit her lip.
“What’s up, man?” A new voice called which caused her to look back up.
Marinette’s breath caught in her throat a blond man with a case of beers in his hand entered the room. He had aged but he was still as handsome as his picture. Her eyes suddenly stung.
Roman waved at hand from Brian to Marinette.
Brian looked at the girl who, to him, didn’t look much older than seven or eight, maybe. Was she lost? Did she need his help? “Can I help you?”
Heads swerved to the girl.
“Do you remember a woman named Sabine Cheng?” Marinette asked, feeling braver at the mentioned of her mother. “She is my mother.”
Heads swerved back to Brian. Particularly Dom’s who at a sneaking suspicion about what the hell was going on.
Brian���s head was suddenly filled with a beautiful laughing Asian girl, with kind eyes and a don’t fuck with my personality. She had fierce and amazing. Brian had been a little disappointed when Sabine had left for France. Which explained the little girl accent. He hadn’t seen Sabine in what… seven years. A little longer.
His blue eyes’ widened. The beers slipped from his hands and crashed hard onto the floor. “Fuck!”
That was all anyone needed to know exactly what was going on.
“This some Maury shit,” Vince said and took a swallow from here.
Letty nodded, “You are the father.” Those eyes did not lie.
The girl’s blue eyes, his eyes, widened and she took a hasty step back when the beers crashed and shattered onto the floor. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have come,” She quickly said. “I’m sorry. I-”
She just wanted to meet him. She needed to meet him. Finding out her dad wasn’t really her dad, dad. Marinette just needed to do something.
Tears welled up in her eyes. Marinette turned for the door.
“That’s enough!” A strong voice said. Marinette turned to see the scary man looking directly at her. “Everyone who isn’t family out. Party’s over. You,” Dom pointed at Marinette, “Stay there.”
There were grumbles from the party guests as they left. But Marinette was surprised just how many people stayed.
“Name’s Dom,” The terrifying guy introduced.
“Marinette,” She said back. “Do you ever lose that scary look on your face.”
“No,” Taj said. “No, he doesn’t” Dom glared at him. “That just makes it worse.”
Brian shoved a hand through his hair. He was shaking. “Are you?” He asked. “I mean, do you like? Daughter?” He managed.
“Translation: You his kid?” Rome smirked.
Brian nodded frantically. Yes, that’s what he meant.
“I found out a few days ago,” Marinette shrugged. “Mom told me about you.”
“I didn’t know,” Brian suddenly blurted out. “I never knew. I swear. I’d have never. I would never. I mean, you know. I’d want to.”
“He didn’t about you,” Roman translated. “He’d never walked out on his kid.”
Dom looked over the small, French, Asian girl who shared his husband’s eyes. There were more similarities than the obvious one; her nose, her cheekbones. There was no doubt it. Brian was a father.
And shit, that meant Dom was a stepfather.
“So what?” Letty asked, not unkindly. “Your mom tells you about Brian and just drops you off here?”
Marinette blushed and looked down again. It set off red flags in everyone’s head. “She doesn’t know…” She admitted. “I left her a note though!” She added.
Roman leaned against the wall. “You find out about Brian, decided what the hell, ditch Paris and run off to a California to find him, with just a note to your Ma.” He snorted. “That’s your kid, alright.”
“Shut up,” Brian hissed. He pinched his nose. “Call your mom.”
“No.”
“She needs to know your alright,” Brian insisted.
“She will,” Marinette promised. “After we talk.”
Brian crossed his eyes and looked sternly at… his daughter, “This isn’t a negotiation.”
Marinette crossed her arms, “Wanna bet?”
Blue eyes and Blue eyes glared at each other. Making the resemblance between the two even more clear as, much to the occupants of the room dismay, stubbornness was inherited.
Dom just sighed. This was going to be his life now. At least he’ll get a laugh out of watching Brian deal with a mini Brian. Stubborn, reckless, little shit that he was; he deserved a little krama.
An hour later, it was clear Marinette had won. She got the talk she wanted. And found out some things about her new Papa. He was married to the scary guy, had been around the world, had been a cop. Loved cars. The people in the house were all family.
“Call me Uncle Rome,” Roman introduced. “I’m the reason your dad lived long enough to have you.
“Mia,” A pretty kind woman with long dark hair said, “Dom’s sister. He’s great when you get to know him.”
“Letty,” A fierce woman said.
After that, there was Taj, Vince, Suki, Han, and quite a few others that made her head spin trying to remember them.
Then she called her parents. They were not happy. Then Brian got on the phone to speak with her mom. He left the room.
Within minutes there was yelling. A lot of yelling. When Brian came back, he looked angry and somewhat relieved. “You’re staying for the summer,” He told her. “We’re going to get to know each other. “You have to call home. Every. Day. Your mom will send some of your stuff.”
The next day, Marinette and Dom found themselves sitting across from each other at the breakfast table. A protectiveness had grown in Dom over the night. Because he realized if this was Brian’s daughter, then it was his daughter.
There was a living, breathing kid he was now responsible for too.
Dom sat across from her and briefly wondered Mia kept any of her old barbies. And if that would be insulting to offer them to the girl. “How old are you?” He asked her.
“Eight,” She answered shyly.
Not barbies then. Boys, then. Mia got into boys just about her age. Oh god, he can’t deal with boys right now. He’d go back to prison.
“How long have you and Papa been married?”
“Almost six years,” He answered.
“Why don’t you have kids?” She asked brightly. “Did you want kids?”
It was a trap. Dom knew it. Brian liked to do the same thing. “We want you.”
She smirked, “Nice answer.”
Brian came in with plates full of pancakes a few seconds later. Marinette was pleased t see hers had a smily face.
“I was thinking we could go to the beach today,” The blond said. “Get to know each other more.” He nodded to his husband. “As a family.”
And so they did.
Marinette spent the entire summer with her Papa and Pops (Dom) and her newfound family, and every summer after. Through them she got into mechanics and cars. Though she still developed a love for fashion. She met a fascinating man named Shaw, and his brother, who taught her how to fight. She met a lioness of a woman named Monica and her husband Carter Verone who just taught her how to be scary.
It was just after she turned thirteen, and she became Ladybug, did Marinette forget just how protective her family was.
It was Sunday. There was a family barbeque. Everyone was there. Marinette was in the kitchen helping Mia clean up when she got a text from Luka. (Adrien was so not her type. Thanks to Letty, Monica, Mia, Suki, she developed a rather fierce nature and decided she’d only date guys with a backbone.) She didn’t realize as she texted back than a dreamy expression appeared on her face, because… well, Luka.
“Who you texting?” Letty asked with an eyebrow raised.
Marinette blushed, “No one.” She hissed back.
“Does no one have a name?” Mia smiled.
Marinette looked down, “Luka.”
“Who the fuck Luka?” Vince yelled, having overheard the conversation. “Dom you know your kid’s got some boy textin her?”
There was a crash. A few crashes actually.
Dom stomped in, grabbed Marinette’s phone, “NO!” he said and walked off.
Marinette groaned. She hoped this wouldn’t be the surfer boy from down the street all over again. His family had to move.
It was a year, and one accidentally overseen transformation did her family find out she was a superhero named Ladybug and had been fighting a terrorist for almost two years. It didn’t take long to find online videos of all her rights. Of how many times she had nearly died.
Brian seethed in anger, unable to speak.
Hobbs and Monica just nodded at each other. Each texting their agency of what had been taking place in Paris. Apparently, the mayor had been hiding it to prevent tourism from declining.
Deckard Shaw was torn. On one hand, he was proud of his niece. She had handled herself well. On other hand that some of bitch Hawkmoth had to pay. No one fucked with his family. Mask or now, magical powers or not, Shaw going to find him.
And who the hell let a teenage girl be Superhero? With not nearly enough training. That asshole was gonna pay too.
Dom just sat his beer down, his eyes still trained on the image of Hawkmoth on the TV, the son of a bitch who had tried to kill his kid, who terrorized a bunch of school children, and all of Paris. and said, “Oh, it’s on.”
The Fast and Furious team was going to Paris.
#Marienette Dupain Cheng#the fast and the furious#brian o'conner#ml fic#ml salt#dominic toretto#bio dad au
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Roman’s Eight-Armed Guide (Part One)
Part One of an Animal Soulmates AU. I liked the idea of Soulmates that weren’t romantic/qpr and I liked making Roman cry. I tried out 3rd person for this as well so if it’s a little weirdly worded, it’s because I’m more practised in 1st person. Part two will be in 1st person because this was hard.
Pairings: Platonic Moxiety, Platonic Creativitwins, Eventual Roceit
Warnings: Parental neglect, harsh parenting, Roman’s parents just suck, crying
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The first time Roman saw it, he was barely old enough to understand what it was. Everyone around him had always said to watch for animals that were translucent and faintly glowed your other half's favourite colour. So that night, with him crying after his parents berated him and locked him in his room without dinner for drawing on the walls, his cries faded as he watched the see-through baby octopus roll around his bedroom floor without a care in the world.
He fell asleep with the octopus, which was small enough to fit in his chubby hands, laying on his chest and comforting him for the night.
Roman had been glad to know that the first time wasn’t a dream after meeting the octopus again when he had gotten lost after a school performance. His father couldn’t make it to the performance itself, but he did promise to pick him up afterwards. So little Roman, still in his Peter Pan outfit, went searching through the crowd for over an hour before his exhaustion and the stress of the night caught up with him and made him tear up.
The only reason he didn’t cry was because the octopus scared him; having fallen from seemingly nowhere and landing on his shoulders with more weight then he remembered the creature having. Which made sense when he thought about it, as its head was almost as large as his own now. It gave him a loose hug around the chest, even weirdly purr-chirping into his neck before dragging his attention to a nearby chair. His father wouldn’t come for another hour, long after the majority of students were gone and without any sort of apology, but the slimy animal stayed by his side until he was finally in the car.
He saw it again on the first day of high school. Roman felt lost within the sea of endless students, not knowing where to go for his first class despite having the map of the school in his free hand. A faint green glow drew his attention to another student; a boy hiding his face underneath a hood that watched everyone go by with disinterest, unaware of the octopus on top of the lockers beside him attempting to swipe the hoodie off with two of its tentacles despite the fact that it would just go straight through him.
So Roman took it as a sign to talk with the boy, who introduced himself with hesitance and the name Aurora, and thanked his Soulmate’s animal for leading him to his first real friend. Who had quickly re-introduced himself as Janus after Roman wouldn’t stop calling him ‘Snakeskin Beauty’, ‘The True King of the Pride Lands’, ‘Pretty Slightly-Taller-Than-Me Liar’ to help him like the burn scars on the side of his face and his lying habit; even if it was a little more then he used to. He didn’t stop as Janus seemed to enjoy the compliments, and Roman was glad to learn his real name. It suited him better then Aurora as he wasn’t one to go around poking needles or piss off any revenge-seeking sorceresses.
After meeting Janus, he didn’t see the octopus for a long time. He found out that his parents were neglecting him while also using his status as an accomplished theatre kid to make them popular with other parents. He also learnt that he was very gay- and even more gay when it came to his very sassy best friend. Which his other friends, platonic soulmates Virgil and Patton, constantly told him to confess to but his fear of losing Janus always got the better of him.
He finished school with the grades he wanted and even a scholarship to continue his acting career, with Janus managing to get just the right grades to pursue law like he wanted. They got a small apartment together, luckily in walking distance of Patton and Virgil’s one, and the three of them got to help him pack for his life away from his parents.
“Will you visit?”
“Make sure to remember us when you’re famous, Roman.”
“Don’t slack off just because you’re not with us anymore!”
He bared through it all until the both of them decided to go out for dinner while everyone continued to pack. Virgil managed, through some bickering, to convince Roman to take a break as they only have a few things left to pack and he looked tired after having to deal with his parents.
“It’s not like you didn’t sleep at all last night…”
“Thank you for reminding me how tired I am, Handsome Dent.”
“You’re very welcome. And nice try on the nickname, but I’ve heard better.”
They promised to let him take the last two boxes to the car but until then, he agreed to take a break. He tried his best, but with each minute that passed his stomach would gain a new knot in it until he had to stand to try and wiggle out the unsettling feeling that came from seemingly nowhere. Something in him was saying that something was wrong, out of place, that he was forgetting something important, but Janus and Virgil had double checked to make sure that Roman wouldn’t have to return to the house after tonight.
“What’s with you?” Virgil was the one to stop his pacing with a worried frown and by putting everyone’s attention back onto him. “We said relax, not get all antsy.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong, but something is! I just don’t know what-” He locked eyes with something only he could see, which made him all the more uncomfortable. If the octopus was there, then his gut feeling was right.
He stepped around a worried Patton, muttering about the octopus that the three had been told about years prior, and followed it as it tucked itself up into a ball and rolled through his parents bedroom door with a small puff of green smoke. He’s never been allowed inside of his parents room, he’s been yelled at enough times to know this by now, but he had twist the doorknob and trusted that his Soulmate’s animal would keep it from happening again.
His friends all stood behind him as he walked inside, finding the octopus sitting beside a drawer with its key in its keyhole. The octopus climbed up his arm to become a comfortable weight on his back as he opened it and pulled out the document that sat on top of a stack of others.
‘Certificate Of Adoption’ ‘Roman Morgan Aurelian’
His heart sank further than he thought was possible as he stared at it; ignoring the questions his friends were asking him from the doorway. His hands shook as he struggled to hold the paper. He could hear his heartbeat as if it were an echoing drum in his head. His blood boiled at remembering all the times his ‘parents’ had told him to be thankful that he was the child of two well-earning parents.
A cold, and slightly slimy, tentacle to his face snapped him out of his building anger to continue searching through the drawer. There were open letters, all addressed to him and all signed by someone named ‘Remus’. There were maybe over fifty letters in the pile, with a few more scattered inside of the drawers with stamps originating from all over the country.
Glancing over one of the open ones, he feels the octopus on his shoulders hold him just a little tighter as each word had taken a blow to his heart.
‘My twin’.
‘Not allowed to visit’.
‘How is he?’
‘Want to meet’.
“Roman..?” His hand instinctively reached up to gently hold one of the tentacles, ignoring it’s sliminess for the small bit of comfort that it brought as Janus entered his vision. “What’s wrong?”
“I… Just…” With a sniffle, he handed over all of the papers to him before shifting the octopus so that he could hug something. To the others it’d look like he’s hugging air, but he didn’t care as the octopus has never failed to comfort him before.
Moments later, he’s pulled into a hug right there on the floor. It’s tight and comforting and warm and he knows that it's Janus. Voices mixed with the sound of his heartbeat deafened Roman to his friends' questions, but when a pair of hands set themselves onto his knees and a third rubbed his back, the taste of salty tears reached his lips as he began to sob.
As he held onto the octopus and cried, he knew that his Soulmate was strange and yet would be there for him. He never thought that it’d be a twin brother; and one that had been looking for him for so long as well? The thought never crossed his mind. He blamed his parents.
His name -Remus sounded so perfect- even came from Rome’s origin story and Roman doesn’t know why that brought a small, sad smile to his lips. He cried into Janus’ shoulder and asked him if they could leave before his parents returned. They’ve done nothing but use his dedication to theatre, his grades during school, his… everything to make themselves . He was off to college and not once did he ever hear about being adopted or having a twin. Roman never wanted to see them again; even after he found Remus.
And with Janus’ help, he didn’t ever have an in-person conversation with them again.
#roman sanders#remus sanders#janus sanders#virgil sanders#patton sanders#creativitwins#eventual roceit#background platonic soulmates moxiety#soulmate au#animal soulmate au#octopus#part one of two#ask to tag#willowkeyes writes
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the love you deserve.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (fem!reader)
Word Count: 1.4k
Summary: “He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”
Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly. Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.
Warnings: soft!bucky, asshole!reader, angst, fluff, lying, cheating, drug use, alcohol consumption (including mentions of underage drinking), language that Steve Rogers wouldn’t approve of.
A/N: AU where Civil War and Thanos never happen, Tony forgives Bucky and he retires. Reader kind of ain’t shit in this one, you’ve been warned.
This is my very first attempt at writing in English, I’m not a native speaker, so forgive me for any mistakes :)
This is part 1, please reblog and let me know what you think of it :) feedback is always appreciated! I can tag you for part 2 if you’re interested, let me know.
Brooklyn, New York
Bucky smiles softly looking at the picture of you two on his lockscreen.
He’s had the Parker kid teach him how to use those damn devices just so he could look at your pretty face and talk to you while you’re not together.
Alpine is cuddled on the couch with him and he shoots you a good morning text like he does every day. You haven’t responded much since yesterday, but he doesn’t think much of it.
You’re at a bachelorette party with your best friends and he doesn’t want to be a bother.
Still, he can’t even begin to describe how much he misses you. It’s only been two days since you’ve left for Vegas but he feels his heart constrict in his chest because you’re not there, and he can’t hold you, cuddle you, whisper sweet nothings into your ear and make you giggle like a schoolgirl.
He can’t look at you with big, curious eyes while you do the pretty girl things you always do, like put on makeup or do face masks. He can’t brush your hair and rub your feet when you come home after wearing heels all day at work. He can’t cook your favorite comfort food as you rant about your job.
God, if his father saw him run to the store to grab you tampons and chocolate every time you get your period, what would he think? He barely suppresses a snort just thinking about the shocked and embarrassed look on his old man’s face after he accidentally overheard Becca tell her friend she’d gotten her period at 14.
He’s sure Mr. Barnes wouldn’t approve of Bucky’s behavior.
And surely HYDRA would punch the air if they saw their most prized possession paint his best girl’s feet in a pretty baby blue nail polish, because baby blue makes you happy, and if you’re happy then he’s happy too.
He’s such a sap, like Sam tells him.
He smiles like a lunatic at the thought of Zola having a stroke if he could see him all dolled up, hair braided and makeup done, just because his girl is bored and wants to practice her skills.
He’s fallen hard for you and he knows you love him.
Well, you love Jaime, as he goes by when he’s with you.
Would you love troubled, damaged Bucky too?
Las Vegas, Nevada
Your late 20s are a weird phase of your life.
Half of your friends are inviting you to their weddings and baby showers, some aren’t even done with school yet, and others can’t properly take care of a house plant on their own.
You belong to the latter category.
It’s Jade’s bachelorette party tonight, you’re in Vegas and you’ve drank more alcohol and done more drugs than you can handle.
And mixing those it’s a bad idea, but you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore.
Getting wasted in Vegas. It’s cliché really, but a it’s a fitting ending to Jade’s bachelorette years. You have always wanted to recreate The Hangover, minus the tiger and a couple other things, you suppose.
It reminds you of the first time you two have popped a pill in the dingy restrooms of a club in Barceloneta. You weren’t 18 yet, but in those kind of clubs age really did not matter.
You were so out of it by the time whatever drug you took kicked in that some British girls you met that night had to drag both your asses to their apartment.
Those girls, Grace and Hannah, if it wasn’t for them you wouldn’t be alive today.
You’d fucked and drank your way through Europe. It was London first, but London was boring, then Barcelona and Rome; Jade loved southern men, and you loved the way Spanish and Italian people partied. From Rome to some random italian city in the south where you’d taken a ferry to Corfù.
By the time you got to Greece you were so high all the time you barely registered moving from island to island until it was time to catch a plane to Athens and then Budapest. And from Budapest to Berlin, and from Berlin back home.
It was the summer before college and you were celebrating the end of your high school career. It was a nice phase, admittedly. You were both cheerleaders, popular, pretty, smart. You’d gotten into the college of your dreams on a cheerleading scholarship, your parents were proud of you, life was good. That summer you didn’t have a single care in the world, except choosing the sorority you would join in when August came.
Ten years later, Jade is getting married.
Today, you found out your boyfriend is a conniving bitch and a lying asshole. Not to mention the one they call the Winter Soldier.
“Hi pretty girl, can I buy you a drink?”
It’s lame maybe, but you’re drunk out of your mind and he’s handsome.
Warm brown eyes look down at you.
They’re not like Jaime’s, his eyes are light blue, almost transparent.
His skin is dark and glistens in the lights of the club, nothing like Jaime’s fair completion and his rosy cheeks.
You can feel the drug induced euphoria wearing off and the slight tick of your jaw. You’re glad you’re wearing a bandana that covers the lower part of your face.
“Why don’t we get out of here?”
His smile is pretty like his face. His head is shaved. Jaime’s chestnut locks reach his jawline.
You nod your head.
When he talks he’s charming and sure of himself. Jaime was a stuttering mess the first time he spoke to you.
You think of nothing, you feel like nothing.
“Cum pretty girl, cum for me.” he grunts in your ear.
His voice is gruff and deep. Jaime’s voice is soft for a man so big.
You should feel guilty but you don’t.
How can you, when this feels so good?
Why would you? You’re not the one who lied in the first place, you’re not the one who hid their identity.
You’re spent and satisfied. In your drunken haze you barely register the man cleaning you up with a washcloth and leaving you in your hotel room with a kiss on your temple and a whispered thank you..
You should be ashamed of yourself but you’re not.
Because Jaime who brings you flowers on all of your dates, who opens the door for you, pulls the chair out the table, gives you his jacket when you’re shivering, that sweet Jaime doesn’t exist.
His name isn’t Jaime at all, it turns out.
It’s James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes.
Morning comes and your head is pounding. You’re hugging the toilet while you throw up all you’ve got left inside of you while Grace holds your hair out of your face.
You never fucking listen, and that’s one of your biggest problems.
The second big problem you have, you never watch the news, and that’s shame.
If you did you might have seen the cool looking guy with the murder strut that beat the shit out of Captain America at the Triskelion.
Too bad you never bothered to educate yourself on what’s going on in the world.
If you did, you might not have ended up dating the Winter Soldier for five fucking months.
Morning comes and the sun shines through the curtains of this nice hotel Jade’s fiance has booked for the five of you. Raven snores softly on one of the beds, and you hear Hannah whisper to her girlfriend sweet nothings on the phone, and all you can think about is Jaime’s shy smile and soft eyes.
The way he hunches on himself to appear less threatening, the way he gives up his seat on the train to pregnant ladies and old people, the way he never fails to leave a generous tip to waiters and is polite to everyone.
Your phone lights up with a text message.
Good morning sweetheart, I hope you had fun with your girls last night. Having lunch with Alpine, we both miss you. I love you.
Your throat feels tight as you choke back a cry.
You never fucking think before you act, and that’s the biggest problem of them all.
You should regret it, and you do.
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky imagine#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x y/n#marvel fanfiction#james buchanan barnes
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“You’re a slacker and I’m a straight A student and we were paired together for a group project and I just want you to get out of the way and let me do everything but you insist on helping for some odd reason ” AU with wolfstar please
Remus froze in horror as he reached into the bowl of names to pick his partner for their history project. He looked out at the sea of his classmates and prayed for someone good. He knew no one in the room would really mind being his partner, because Remus was studious and took his academic seriously, so being his partner for a project basically guaranteed a good grade.
His hand wrapped around a piece of paper and he lifted his up. “Sirius Black,” he said as evenly as he could while his heart sank. Sirius Black was a notorious trouble maker who barely did any school work and only got decent grades because he was smart and was good at taking tests. Most days he didn’t even bother handing in his homework and he spent most of class lounging back with his feet on the desk and his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.
Remus risked a glance over at Sirius and he found Sirius beaming at him. It was odd to see Sirius look so excited about anything school related. The only time Black got excited about anything was the stupid pranks he liked to pull with his friend James. At least Remus hadn’t ended up with Potter as his partner. James was even worse than Sirius but it seemed that misfortune had landed on Lily Evans.
Taking his seat again, Remus began jotting down ideas for what point in history they should do. He immediately dismissed World War Two as he figured most people would be drawn to that era. He didn’t want to pick anything too obscure, knowing he’d be doing everything himself. There was no point in making things harder when it came time to research.
Remus had been so busy with his list that he must have missed the teacher telling them to meet up with their partners. He was startled when Sirius Black dropped his books onto Remus’ desk and sat backwards in the chair in front of Remus to face him.
“Hi there!” Sirius said, running his fingers through his shoulder length hair. “How’s it going, Lupin?”
Remus jotted down a few more ideas before he forgot them and then glanced up at Sirius. “I’m fine, you?”
“I’m fantastic,” Sirius said, leaning in towards Remus as if they were sharing a secret. “I was hoping I’d be paired with a cute boy for this.”
Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius Black was a shameless flirt, everyone knew that. “I was thinking maybe we could do the Victorian era,” Remus told him, chewing on the end of his pen.
“I was thinking ancient Rome,” Sirius said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You know with all those orgies and stuff.”
Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes once more. “We’re not presenting on orgies to the class.”
Sirius grinned, putting his arm on the back of the chair and resting his chin in his hand. “You want to do the Victorian era where seeing someone’s ankle was considered scandalous.”
Remus quirked an eyebrow at him in response. “You do know Oscar Wilde was imprisoned for sodomy during this era, right?” he said, making Sirius’ eyes go wide. Probably from the use of the word sodomy. “And Lord Byron was off fucking pretty much anything that would move.”
Sirius hummed softly. “I guess that could be cool.”
Remus sighed. “So glad you approve,” he said with a hint of annoyance. He was going to have to do the whole project himself anyway. He didn’t really need Sirius’ input anyway.
“Wanna meet in the library after school?” Sirius asked, gathering up his stuff as the teacher announced the end of class.
“Why?” Remus asked, frowning as Sirius stood up.
Sirius laughed. “To work on the project?”
“Oh, um, sure.”
“Perfect!” Sirius said, beaming at him. Remus gave him a tentative smile in return. He was surprised to see Sirius so enthusiastic about a school project. “’I’ll see you there!”
“See you.”
***
Remus got a few books about the Victorian Era and spread them out over the table he’d picked at the back of the library. He thought maybe Sirius would bail on their plans to meet up, which honestly suited Remus just fine. He’d get along better without having Sirius interrupting him. He chewed on his pen cap as he jotted down some notes.
“Hey Remus!” Sirius said, sliding in the chair beside him. “Sorry I’m late. Peter got his hand stuck in a peanut butter jar…again. I swear it’s like being friends with Winnie the Pooh.” Sirius laughed and slung his arm over Remus’ shoulders with a familiarity that just did not exist between them. Remus wondered if it would be rude to shake Sirius off him.
Remus cleared his throat and decided to change the subject back to school. He didn’t want to get to know Sirius Black. He didn’t want that kind of trouble in his life. Sure, Sirius was gorgeous, vivacious and intriguing, but he also had a tendency to get bored of people easily. It seemed like every month there were rumors of Sirius with another bloke. Whether they were true or not was another matter and Remus didn’t know Sirius well enough to be sure. At one point Remus had cared a great deal about the goings-on of Sirius Black but he’d more or less gotten over his stupid crush.
“So I was thinking we could talk about the evolution of the English novel starting and it’s reflection of society at the time,” Remus said, writing down the names of a few authors he wanted to mention.
“Sounds very swotty,” Sirius teased, reading the list over Remus’ shoulder. “I’m not going to have to read all those books, am I?”
“No,” Remus said, shaking his head. “I’ve read most of the ones I want to touch on. Dickens, Conan Doyle, Austen, Bronte, Wilde.”
“I have read Hound of the Baskerville,” Sirius offered, glancing at the list again. “I’ve seen the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice. Does that count for anything?”
Remus chuckled despite himself. “It’s more accurate to the book than the Kiera Knightly one.”
“I mostly just watched it because Colin Firth is hot,” Sirius said with a shrug. “And I know about a Christmas Carol, even though I’ve never read it.”
“Let me guess, the Muppet version?” Remus quipped, turning his head to look at Sirius and noticing just how close their bodies were. Their breath was actually mingling together.
Sirius grinned. “It’s still the same story.”
“I knew it!” Remus laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I don’t know…” Sirius said softly, bringing his other hand up and brushing his fingers over Remus’ cheek. “What are you going to do with me?”
Remus felt his cheeks go red and he quickly turned away back to the safety of his books. “I’m thinking maybe we should talk about the poverty of the time and the classism at work in British society. Maybe talk about how a lot of novels had protagonists trying to improve their social standing – Great Expectations, Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, Oliver Twist.”
Sirius listened to Remus ramble with a bemused smirk on his face. When Remus glanced back over he noticed Sirius was staring at him intently. It made Remus’ stomach clench uneasily.
“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
Remus’ jaw dropped. “I don’t see how that’s relevant – “
“Is that a no?”
Remus flipped the page of his notebook just for something to do to continue ignoring Sirius’ question. “It’s none of your business,” he finally responded after Sirius didn’t let it go.
“I could make it my business,” Sirius said, licking his lips and smiling. “Why don’t you give me your number?”
“Why?”
“Because I want it.”
Remus scowled at him. “Sirius, I’m not interested –“
“Bollocks.”
Remus’ frown deepened. “Not everyone is interested in you, Black. Y-you’re annoying and selfish and reckless.”
“Flatterer,” Sirius said, his grin showing that he didn’t really believe Remus. “Come on, I’m not that bad, Lupin. I’ve got some good qualities too.”
Remus huffed out a breath. “I don’t know you well enough to say if that’s true or not,” he informed his project partner. “We’ve never exactly spent any significant amount of time together.”
“Let’s change that then, hm?” Sirius said, grabbing Remus’ notebook and scribbling down his number. “Text me tonight and we’ll pick a time this weekend to work on the project. I’ll come over to yours because my place is a nightmare.”
“What?” Remus asked, blinking in utter confusion at Sirius. He wasn’t sure but he thought Sirius Black had just invited himself over to Remus’ house on the weekend.
“I’ve got to get going but don’t do the whole project without me, okay?” Sirius said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I promise I’m not completely useless.”
Remus could do nothing but stare up at Sirius with a puzzled expression on his face. Sirius smiled at him and then went bounding out of the library. Remus looked down at this notebook and the number scrawled over the middle of the page. Remus tore the page out of his notebook since it was ruined anyway. He considered throwing it into the rubbish bin but shoved it into his pocket instead. He thought about ignoring Sirius’ request and just continuing on by himself. Instead he took the books up to the front desk and checked them out so that he could continue his research over the weekend. Even if Sirius didn’t show up to help him, Remus would be prepared to finish the project on his own.
***
Against his better judgment Remus texted Sirius later that night. He had talked it over with his mum during dinner and she had agreed to let Sirius come over on Saturday. She had been a bit surprised that Remus had asked to have a friend over. The only friend he’d ever had over before was Lily and they were such good friends that Remus didn’t really have to ask if Lily could come over anymore, she was always welcome at the Lupin house.
You can come over tomorrow if you want.
You texted me!
Well yeah. You gave me your number.
What time should I come over?
Around lunchtime? My mum said she’d make us something if you want to eat here before we get started.
I can eat anything I want?
I mean as long as we have it.
Can I eat you?
Shut up. I’ll see you at lunchtime.
***
Sirius arrived at Remus’ a little before noon and he seemed energetic, practically bouncing off the walls. He ate his lunch with gusto, munching on the ham and cheese sandwiches Remus’ mum had made. Sirius had kept the conversation going with Remus’ mum and Remus just sat there eating his food, kind of in a daze. He hadn’t expected Sirius to put so much effort in to talking with his mum. Sirius was alarmingly charming and it seemed like he was attempting to make a good impression. Remus had no idea why.
“Uh, Sirius and I are going to my room to work on the project,” Remus said, grabbing Sirius by the arm and hauling him up out of his seat. He practically dragged Sirius down the hallway to his room and shut the door.
“Anxious to get me alone, huh?” Sirius asked, biting his bottom lip.
“What are you doing?” Remus asked, searching Sirius’ face for some kind of hint that he was lying or being a prat. Instead Sirius just smiled at him.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Sirius responded with a shrug. “I was just being polite. Am I not allowed to be polite to your mum who made me lunch?”
Remus huffed, the air puffing out his cheeks for a moment and then causing the curls on his forehead to move when he released it. “You never put it effort for anything.”
“That’s not true,” Sirius said softly, reaching out and playing with one of Remus’ curls.
Remus worked his jaw for a moment. “This isn’t – you don’t –“
“I don’t?” Sirius challenged, twisting his hand into the front of Remus’ jumper and tugging him forward slightly. “How do you know?”
Remus stared at Sirius for a moment and then shook his head. “Why are you trying so hard, Sirius?”
Sirius grinned. “Because you’re making things difficult for me.”
“And if I stopped?” Remus asked, crowding in closer to Sirius.
“Then things would be remarkably easier.”
“You’d get bored of me,” Remus said, glancing down for a moment at Sirius’ mouth and how very, very close it was. “Probably quicker than all the others – “
“Ugh,” Sirius groaned, dropping his head back against the door. “Is that why? Remus, come on. I thought you of all people would be above listening to that gossip.”
Remus frowned. “Lily told me she saw you snogging Evan Rosier.”
“Yeah, well, we all make mistakes,” Sirius grumbled unhappily. “I dated Evan for a month and when I dumped him the stupid prick started making shit up about me. He has been for months just to get back at me. I guess I really am unforgettable.”
Remus placed his hands gently at Sirius’ waist, slipping his fingers under Sirius’ t-shirt to touch his skin. It was warm and soft and Sirius made a cute little gasping noise at the contact. “So I’m not just your latest conquest then?”
Sirius shook his head emphatically. “I fancy you,” he said, pressing his nose against Remus’ jawline in a gentle, sliding it up towards his ear before playfully biting the lobe. “I have for a while now but you don’t exactly make it easy to get to know you.”
Remus smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Sirius’ temple. “I suppose I don’t,” he agreed quietly, shifting his hand to splay against the small of Sirius’ back. “I’ll let you close, if you want.”
“I want,” Sirius breathed out. “Fuck Remus, kiss me.”
Remus turned his head and captured Sirius’ lips, pressing Sirius back against the wall. Sirius’ mouth dropped open and Remus took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside. Sirius moaned and carded his fingers through Remus’ curls until his hand was fisted in Remus’ hair at the back of his head.
Remus broke the kiss after a few life-altering moments and pressed his forehead against Sirius’. “Sirius…”
“Does this mean you’ll stop making things so bloody difficult for me then?” Sirius asked, his kiss-swollen lips twitching into a smirk.
“Absolutely not,” Remus said, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Sirius’ mouth. It would do Sirius good to keep having to put in a little effort. “Still interested?”
“Fuck yes,” Sirius said, pulling Remus into another kiss. “If we get a good grade on the project will you be my boyfriend?”
“We’re guaranteed to get a good grade,” Remus informed him, nipping playfully at Sirius’ lower lip. “I wouldn’t settle for anything less.”
“Well then?” Sirius asked, raising a questioning eyebrow at Remus.
“Yes,” Remus agreed to their proposed deal, sealing it with a kiss. Even though they were going to get a good grade on it, Remus knew Sirius would continue to work extra hard on it for Remus. Renowned trouble maker Sirius Black was going to put in effort into something school related because of Remus - because he wanted Remus. It was the best thing that had ever happened to Remus in his life.
And if the project took twice as long to finish, because they couldn’t help interrupting their work to snog each other, well that was pretty spectacular as well.
#wolfstar#i write things#modern day au#high school au#sirius black x remus lupin#long post#anon prompt#fluff
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12 Days of Blasphemy Day 4 - “And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes.” (Deuteronomy 6:8)
In Crowley’s home in the village, he and Aziraphale share a feast, and much more besides.
[Previous Prompt | Next Prompt]
Snippet below, full fic on ao3!
This is a gift for my wonderful friend @ran196242 and is based on her False Gods AU (Which can be found any of these places: AO3 | Tumblr | Twitter | Instagram, mind the tags!). Ran is such a lovely individual who puts so much heart into everything that she does and I'm so glad to call her my friend <3
---
Bind Them for a Sign Upon Thine Hand
In a small village, there lived a Snake God, feared and revered by his subjects. This god had a companion, rescued from a different village in the river valley that didn't appreciate him.
The villagers would always fear and love their god in equal measure, for as long as he was there. In time, they also grew to love his companion. They made their offerings, didn’t take more than was given, and the village flourished.
Once every moon cycle, when she was fullest in the sky and shone down with sparkling light, the villagers would turn in early. Would lock their doors and find themselves in a deep sleep. No one would suffer, everyone would wake well rested. Crops would flourish and blessing would be bestowed on everyone.
The only thing asked was that the god not be disturbed.
“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighs over his glass of wine, “these past months have been so lovely.”
“You deserve to be worshipped by people that appreciate you, angel. People that won’t take too much from you.”
“And you?”
Crowley cracks a smile, slithering down from his throne. Black and red scales hiss as they are wrapped around Aziraphale’s ankles, wrapping him in the muscle and sinew of Crowley’s long tail. Crowley’s arms wrap around Aziraphale’s shoulders, hold him close like the precious thing he is.
His forked tongue flicks out and tickles Aziraphale’s ear, earning him a giggle and a shiver in equal measure. “I intend to worship you for as long as you’ll have me, oh great god of the river valley.”
“Wily old serpent,” Aziraphale chastises him with no bite to it. He settles back into Crowley’s coils, cradled and held in ways that only Crowley can hold him. It still takes Crowley by surprise, even these months later, the open affection that Aziraphale gives him. It’s so different from Rome, from the fast and messy way they had each other then.
[Read It on AO3]
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lol more asks cuz why not
(u dont have to answer if u dont wanna but idk u did say multiple are okay)
Is there a ship you no longer ship and why?
rant about any ship you love but feel like you don't talk about enough
(ok this aren't listed question) is there any pairing you think is better as a friendship?
if you could rate all your hetalia ships from 1- how ever many you have( 1 being your favourite) what would that list look like?
if you could go to the wedding of one of your ships- which ship would it be? and why
which ship is the most chaotic?
what would your ships be like as parents?(you can do one ship if you want or mulitiple)
anddddddddddddd
give a description of your ship/ships in a nutshell, so like what is their dynamic basically like
oof sorry about so many askssss
l do be curious tho
Dude omg please don't be sorry look you are SPOILING ME with these thank you very much I crave attention lmao
⚜ Is there a ship I no longer ship? Why?
Hm.... there’s none that I can think of! So if I ever dropped shipping something it’s probably because I forgot! :p
I would be putting FrUK/USUK here but I was never really avid about them to be no longer shipped and I still like them on occasion
⚜ Rant about any ship I love but feel like you don't talk about enough
Spaus!!!!!! Spain and Austria!!!! I talk about Fraus but Spaus??? Nationverse Spaus??? They had the same thing going except.. a very different energy. These are two men who married while still trying to find where they fit in the world, they fought wars against each other, they were not perfect in any way, but they were husbands, and they always respected each other as such. Human AUs, same thing, they weren’t perfect, they had to grow so much to get to where they are, and often times they'd go DAYS without speaking to each other, but they'd still sit down and chat with their music, Spain on the guitar and Austria on the piano, sometimes they wouldn't play long, but just a few notes and strums exchanged served as a reminder that when they're ready to talk again, they're both ready for each other
Omg wait brain juice FLOWING Hungary x Belgium.... it’s always been hard for me to like them bc of the ship name (for some reason??) but I’ve been thinking about it and I just... wow...... Horse knight woman(? Woman debatable) and a woman who smells like chocolate :) mm.. that’s a vibe
Also I have very very VERY few Ideas on this but Belarus x Seychelles SLAPS in the most positive way
⚜ Is there any pairing you think is better as a friendship?
Hmm, I’m gonna have to go with USA x N. Italy!! I love them together a lot but I have a hard time seeing them actually being in a romantic relationship :0
Also Estonia x Finland! I think they’re good friends! MAybe tried some intimate stuff in the past but Finland moved on from that and Estonia, in my hc, discovered he’s hetero/aro ace! Which in this case just means Ukraine pretty--
⚜ Rating all my favorite 2p/Hetalia ships from 1-5 because I have way too many ;,)
Hetalia ships in order of how much feeling I have for them when I look at the list
France x Austria
France x Russia
France x Turkey (gee haha I wonder who my favorite character is)
Cuba x Canada
Germany x England (more in human aus tho :) )
Honorable mention!: Romania x Prussia
Honorable mention #2!: Netherlands x Canada
Fav 2p ships in order of how often I think of/write for them
2p France x 2p Austria (wow! shocking!)
2p Sweden x 2p Finland
2p Germania x 2p Ancient Rome
2p Russia x 2p China
2p Germany x 2p Italy
Honorable mention #3!: 2p Egypt x 2p Turkey x 2p Greece [ETG trio]
⚜ If you could go to the wedding of one of your ships- which ship would it be? and why
2p Ancient Greece and 2p Ancient India! I’ve never written them ever and 2p Ancient India is barely a figment of a character but holy shit!!! They would have an amazing wedding!!! No expenses spared and absolutely extravagant!
Or 2pSufin! Cool wedding! Small and cozy because they both have sensory processing issues and it’d just be a very comfortable place to be! :)
⚜ Which ship/s are the most chaotic?
Romania x Prussia (if you can’t imagine why this would be.... I don’t know what to tell you)
Prussia x England (two tired overworked punks)
2p Greece x 2p Japan (half their dates prob consist of running from p!gs for being caught spray painting places that are queerphobic or xenophobic and the others are spent in libraries and museums)
2p Italy x 2p HRE (two kids who don’t know what emotional regulation is)
⚜ What would my ships be like as parents?
Ok! I’ll start out with the ones that I’ve already given children :)
2p Ancient Greece and 2p Ancient Rome (Famous AU): They..... they really tried... they tried so hard to work out their issues for the grandkids, but of course in the end that never works.. they raised the Italy brothers after an accident happened that left them as orphans. Eventually, Melita did leave Cassius, but she also left the grandkids to be looked after by him, and she continued to be absent until the kids were in there mid-20's. Cassius tried his best with what he had, but his best wasn't healthy and was too much self projection because he didn't want them to be hurt as he was, but it backfired, it backfired a lot.
2p Germania and 2p Ancient Rome (Famous AU): Cassius was there to help Berinhart help raise Roland the moment Roland was turned over to Ber's custody, like, that very night. Though Cassius wasn't always present because he was still "with Melita" at that time, but once he was responsible for his own grandchildren, that did start changing in "getting the kids together for socializing" so they could start seeing each other more. Berinhart is a good parent, well rounded and knows how to motivate positively for even the most mundane things
2p Sweden and 2p Finland (most AUs): They adopted two kids: Jack (2pSealand) and Kurt (2pLadonia). Tobbe’s not the best with getting along with children but he’ll be damned if he’s not going to try his best to be with Vaito to raise them with him. Tobbe makes the meals and teaches them to cook and how to clean up after themselves and Vaito teaches them how to clean up bigger messes so Tobbe doesn't have to look at them. Kurt and Jack are in good hands :)
2p France and 2p Austria (however this is only in my Genshin Impact/2ptalia crossover au): François isn’t really interested in a kid of his own and didn't know Roland "had" a kid until he went back to Roland's hometown with him, it's not that Roland didn't talk about Nikki, it's that he never mentioned that he was actually the one raising them until Roland left to travel the world, which left Nikki with Berinhart. François is glad he doesn't have a complete parental role with Nikki but he will fight tooth and nail if harm ever falls on them. And Roland loved taking care of Nikki because they're a founding just as he is but he just didn't feel like he was prepared or good enough to be a good parent for them.
⚜ A description of my ship/s in a nutshell / My ship dynamics in a nutshell
I think I have a wide range of ship dynamics ranging from:
Total of 1 braincell combined and they share it like the three fates in Disney's Hercules (Prussia x America namely)
Socially stunted smol and socially stunted tol
Classy gossip partners apparently
Homophobic bigot because of Unresolved Catholic Trauma and woman who thinks that All woman are bisexual (too niche? It's 2pRome x 2pAncient Greece in human AUs)
I have too many tbh, I don't prefer one type of ship over another so I really can't put all of them here-
Person who's experienced way too much trauma at a young age x person who had a lot of different trauma at a young age and are doing their best to help each other recover (2p France x 2p Austria)
#holy shit this is so long and I didn't even realize until I scrolled up#im-tired-and-queer#asks!#way too much to tag but#famous au#it's my fav au#i love it sm#yourdarlings headcanons
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Acta Non Verba - 1/2
Ancient Rome AU - Sam x Reader
Summary: An arranged marriage and unexpected wedding night.
Warnings: Smut, Voyeurism
Beta: ilikaicalie
Word Count: 3400+
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The lavish celebration following the marriage ceremony is held in your family's home. It’s a raucous jubilee of music and entertainment that only ramps up as the night wears on.
After the main feast, filled with toasts and speeches - most made by men you’ve never met before - you find yourself lounging on a large settee next to your new husband. The two of you have been pushed off to a darker corner of the room, giving you the illusion of privacy as guests attempt to stealthily sneak glances at the newlyweds.
Your new husband, Sam, sat by your side. You smile, watching him look down skeptically at a plate of dormice. He seemed very self-assured, but trying to hide the fact that he’s out of his element. Although he has ample social standing as the son of a renowned general, you’re the niece of Julius Caesar, leader of the Roman Republic. His family is the one reaping the greater benefit from this alliance.
You met only once before the marriage ceremony.
It was a brief dinner with his and your parents. While you didn’t get the opportunity to speak with him alone, you were pleased to find he was both handsome and friendly. Sam had an easy smile, unlike the other young men his age who believe that one cannot be taken seriously if they appear cheerful. After the dinner, your parents agreed to a set of detailed terms before signing several documents - including to transfer authority of you over to Sam.
Today’s ceremony was simply that - a ceremony with no legal impact. In fact, your union wouldn’t be official until the procession from your parents home to Sam’s family’s...where Sam would complete his ‘husbandly duties’.
“Would you like something a bit more traditional?” You inquire softly as he picks at the plate in front of him.
Sam looks up, grinning with wine-flushed cheeks. “Please; I’m starving.”
He watches as you call over a servant. In no time, he’s presented with a heaping plate of roasted lamb, figs, pears, and olives. The two of you eat and drink as the night wears on. Somewhere along the way, Sam forgets that you have an audience; the rest of the world disappears as you chatter on, explaining to him the personal details of each person in the room.
You’re beautiful and sweet and appear to like him; he feels as if he’s won a prize. He’s not exactly sure how his father pulled off this amazing feat of marrying him to Y/N of the Julii and while he had hated the idea of being paired up with an over-indulged socialite, he’d eat his words now.
You’re better than he could have imagined.
“Your mother looks happy,” you comment, sipping from a goblet of wine. The petite blonde is deep in conversation with Sam’s father. She’s listening to him as a bright smile blooms across her lips. Her expression blossoms - eyes crinkling as she laughs, shoulders shaking at whatever it was that amused her.
“She is,” Sam follows your gaze, watching his parents. “I was engaged for a short time to Octavia of the Junii. She’s much happier with the idea of being aligned with your family.”
“And you?” You ask slowly, taking the time to process this new information.
You want to ask straight away if this previous marriage proposal was arranged or, Gods forbid, a love connection that you’ve pulled him away from. You doubt it’s the latter; he seems too content to be missing a lover.
“Are you happy with this arrangement? With me?”
His eyes light up, mouth pulling at the corners as he scoots toward you. He speaks deliberately as he lays his hand over yours, “Incredibly.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” You don’t look away, choosing instead to stare into his wonderfully attentive eyes. His face is so close that you would barely need to lean forward to kiss him. He seemed to have the same thought because it was Sam who takes the lead, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, chaste kiss.
You’re confident. You’re actually a lot of things - smart, insightful, spoiled beyond belief - but your self assured manner is something he’s never encountered in a woman of his age before. He knows it’s a reflection of how you were raised.
Your uncle is the most powerful man in the world; your family's reputation throughout Rome is unmatched. Growing up, he knew there were families with more, but he could hardly imagine it. He and his brother never wanted for anything. They had been educated, waited on by servants and taught the details of refinement, but it was clear from the moment he met you that you were a creature from an entirely different world.
Your home was large, offering luxury and accouterments that he’s only heard about in stories. He suddenly wonders if his home will be enough for you. His family has relocated to Rome from Rimini as part of the marriage contract; you’re to share a home with Sam and his family until he settles in one of his own. He hopes that when the time comes he’ll be able to afford a dwelling that’s up to your standards.
He’s thankful you don’t seem at all concerned with any of the details. The way you look at him makes him excited and nervous, something that he’s doing his best to hide. No woman wants an anxious husband, especially a woman of your prestige. So, when the opportunity presents itself, and you’re looking into his eyes as if he were the only person in the room, he forces himself to be bold and kisses you.
You give a small sound, a catch in your throat, as he presses his nose into your cheek. He pulls back to take a breath before kissing you once more, this time harder. Your hand moves to his cheek to gently cup his face. Lost somewhere in this moment with Sam you don’t see your mother, Atia, approaching until she’s sitting on the edge of the settee.
“Look at the two of you, already falling in love,” she clasps her hands dramatically. You pull back from Sam and take a moment to collect yourself.
“Mother, please-” You attempt, but Sam takes your hand in his. It only makes your heart speed up.
“This is a wonderful feast. Thank you for being such a gracious host.” Sam’s charming as he speaks with her. It hasn’t taken him long to get a read on what she responds to. Flattery alwaysdoes the trick with Atia.
“Nothing is too good for my beautiful daughter and my new son. We’ve spared no expense.” She bows her head, her eyes falling over his large frame. She has no shame; she never has and never will.
“You’re too kind,” Sam responds in kind.
“Well, my daughter may be a handful, but she’s young and beautiful. I’m sure she’ll give you many children.” Before you have a chance to respond she pats you on the thigh and darts away.
“She’s unbelievable,” You shake your head.
“I’m sure she means well,” Sam laughs.
“My mother is loyal and loving and capable of some truly villainous things. Every word that comes out of her mouth has intent. You must always be on your toes when she’s around.”
--
You’re finally alone. Not completely, but close enough. You’ve made the journey through the streets of the city, a rowdy parade en route to what is now your new home. There’s only one part left and then you’ll be free to begin your new life.
His long, nimble fingers work at the Hercules knot your mother had secured around your waist before the wedding. Only Sam is to untie it.
“Is she just going to sit there?” Sam looks back over his shoulder, his eyes falling on the woman sitting in the corner. Your mother picked her. Cornelia has been a servant of the family since before you were born; you’ve become so accustomed to her presence that you nearly forgot she was there.
“She’s our witness,” you explain, fisting your hands in the material of his robe to pull his focus back to you. “Just ignore her.”
Sam looks one more time before putting her out of his mind. He’s been surrounded by servants his entire life, but it felt strange to him having a spectator to such an intimate act.
Sam’s your husband and your mother has impressed upon you the importance of making him happy right from the start of your marriage. She’s a sly woman who never fails to get her way by knowing where her true power lies - between her legs. She’s told you countless times that a man who’s happy in bed is generally better to his wife than a husband who goes unsatisfied. It’s just an added bonus that you happen to be attracted to your spouse.
As you both quickly undress, you present your naked body to him. His eyes sparkle with excitement. It is near tangible as he takes his time to look you over. He clearly enjoys what he sees, as evidenced by his cock hardening before your eyes.
And what a cock it is. You’re thrilled to discover that he is big all over.
His clean skin stretches over thick muscles. He’s beautiful and no doubt powerful. You feel attraction pool between your legs. Stepping toward him, you make the first move.
“Touch your wife.”
Sam smiles, reaching out with large hands to cover both breasts, squeezing with a soft grunt of admiration. You step closer, his stiff cock poking you in the stomach. One of his hands wanders south, curling around your hip, pulling your body flush with his. You’re skin to skin; he’s hot and smooth all over. This is better than you could ever have imagined when your mother first told you she’d found you a husband.
Sam’s no virgin, and he doubts you are either. He can’t get over how sublime you are, all supple skin and perfects breasts. The best part is that you seem just as attracted to him as he is to you. He had pictured his wedding night to be with some hesitant virgin crying underneath him. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
“You’re perfect,” he purrs.
Sam cups your face with both palms, cradling the cut of your jaw. You light up with his praise, catching your bottom lip under white teeth. His eyes fleetingly shift from the woman in the corner, then back to you. He leans down, placing both hands on your hips to curl his fingers into bare skin as he kisses you. It’s a soft kiss at first, that passionately escalates as his tongue glides past your lips, drawing a slight whimper from your throat.
Snaking your arms over his shoulders, you pull yourself tighter to him. Excitement courses through you when you feel his cock press between you. Two widespread hands slide down your back as he cups your bottom. A delighted squeal erupts from your throat as he lifts you with minimal effort. You cross your arms behind his neck, pressing your nose into his with a sweet, happy kiss.
Sam’s balls ache with need when he feels your wet pussy grinding into his stomach. You’re already slick and ready for him. He must have done something wonderful for the Gods to honor him with a wife as great as you. His brother married a sour-faced woman who never smiles and has as much warmth as flint. But you...you’re pressing your warm, naked body against him like he’s your savior.
Sam would love nothing more than to taste you, to spread you out on the bed and get his head between your legs. But he won’t, not until you’re both alone. It’s commonly looked upon as emasculating for a man to do such a thing. The last thing he needs is for the old woman behind them gossiping about the details of his marriage bed. He would give his right testicle to shove his tongue inside your sweet little cunt and watch you writhe like a goddess.
“Sam,” you pant wantonly, pulling him from his thoughts. Your slim fingers curl into his hair, tugging on his scalp as you roll your hips.
He walks forward until his knees hit the edge of the bed before leaning forward to lay you down. You don’t let him go; instead, you enjoy the weight of him between your thighs as he peppers your neck and jaw with open-mouth kisses. His mouth makes its way to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers,
“Shall we get the old woman out of here?”
“Yes,” you agree hastily with a breathy nod, arching against his chest.
Sam glances between your bodies as he reaches down to fist his cock. He takes a moment to rub the swollen head along the slippery folds of your sex, pressing back and forth across your clit. When you moan in response, he grins as he slides his prick downward until he can press forward. His thick cock slips inside you, your cunt stretching to accommodate his girth. His arms frame your shoulders as he slides deep, leaning down kiss your lips.
You gasp into his mouth, your lips opening and closing like a fish as he fills you completely and his testicles smash into your ass. You’ve had several lovers, but none of them could compare in size or stature to Sam. The sensation of his cock this deep brings immeasurable pleasure.
His hips pull back, dragging his cock nearly out of you before thrusting forward with enough force to knock the wind from your lungs. Sam groans, deep and guttural, bracing himself on his arms as he presses his forehead into yours.
You’re so tight around him, squeezing his length with your warm, wet pussy. You feel like you were made for him. He has to take a moment to steady himself, listening to the sound of your soft moans. You bend your legs up for him, your knees pressing against his ribs. He sinks a little deeper and the sound you make is that of a dying woman, digging fingernails into his bicep.
Sam’s big and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but only for a moment. The discomfort fades completely once he finds a brisk pace, fucking you with long, deep strokes that send shock waves from your sex up your spine.
His hair brushes your face gently as he leans down to whisper, barely audible, “I’m going to put my child in your belly.”
You clench around him, whimpering and turning to kiss him, grabbing his face with both hands. You hardly know him, and while children are the goal of any marriage in the Republic, you never imagined that you’d be so thrilled at the idea of being pregnant. As Sam rocks into you with this even tempo, the soft smack of bare skin meeting filling the room, you can’t imagine wanting anything more than for him to cum inside you.
Just as you feel the pleasure slowly building, he places a kiss at the swell of your breast and pulls out. He knees his way back to stand at the edge of the bed, grabbing your ankles and dragging you down the length of the bed to meet him. He bends your legs up and back, thighs open as he slides back in.
“Touch yourself,” he instructs. He takes your hand to place your fingers on your clit as he pounds away, faster and harder than before. He watches with his mouth slightly open as you rub yourself, your eyes rolling back in your skull. With every thrust, your soft breasts bounce from his efforts. Sam thinks the sight of you taking his cock has surely ruined all other women for him.
You’re close, so close to ultimate pleasure as he fucks you again and again. You try desperately to keep your eyes open, to enjoy the spectacle of his flexing muscles and bulging veins. He has the body of a God, powerful and chiseled, and he’s looking at you like he’s about to finish. His cheeks are flush with exertion, his hair damp with sweat. He takes a breath with each thrust, panting fast and faster.
You cum with an embarrassing howl, shouting his name and arching off the blankets like you’ve been shot with an arrow. He’s thick and hard inside you as the walls of your pussy clutch around him, desperate to pull him deeper and keep him there. At this moment, you want him to always be inside you, filling you beyond what you thought was pleasurable.
There’s a swell of pride in his chest as you writhe and moan uncontrollably on his cock, milking his length with rhythmic pulses. You’re his wife. Y/N of the Julii, a woman of unmatched beauty and well above his station…and you’re taking his cock as if your life depends on it, huffing and thrashing from side to side, up and down.
Your hand slips away from your sex when your orgasm wanes. He can still feel you fluttering around him as your hands grip a fist full of the bedcovers. He presses his thumb lightly over your clit and you gasp, tilting your head back as he plays over already raw nerves.
Grunting, Sam thrusts hard and fast. Your thighs sting from his hips snapping into you unrelentingly. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, that he’s pushed you past what your fucked-out, sensitive snatch can handle, his tempo begins to falter.
Sam’s mouth falls open. His pink lips form a wide ‘O’ as you feel him buck forward, cramming as far inside you as he possibly can get when he climaxes. He cums like a bull, filling you with pulse after pulse of hot seed until it’s coating your thighs and dripping down your buttocks. Holding himself deep, he rides out the last waves of his orgasm. His muscles visibly tense and release as he makes soft, satisfied noises with a half-laugh of utter gratification.
“You,” he breathlessly looks down, running his hands from your knees, up shaking legs, until they find your hips. “You are a Goddess.”
You intend to respond by telling him how incredible you feel, but you’re not in a place where you can form complete thoughts. Instead, you roll your body against his, his cock still hard and buried in your cunt.
“Come here.”
Sam gladly leans over as you beckon to him with outstretched arms. You kiss him lazily, refusing to stop even when he pulls out and picks you up so that he can lay beside you on the bed. You fist a hand in the hair at the back of his head, as his hands trail across your sweaty skin, touching every part of you he can reach.
He wants to fuck you again; it’s all he can think about. You slide your tongue past his lips as his hand reaches between your legs, his fingers swiping over the lips of your sex. His index finger wiggles inside your sloppy hole when there’s a cough from the corner as the elderly woman clears her throat.
Tensing for a moment, you groan as you press a final kiss into his cheek You offer him a devilish grin, your eyes don’t leave him as you speak.
“Come, Cornelia. Witness what you must so you can leave us.”
Sam’s only ever heard of this before. He watches as you prop yourself on your elbows and spread your legs wide. Cornelia’s only job as a witness is to ensure he’s cum inside you and report back to your parents that the union is, in fact, complete.
You don’t seem the least bit bothered as Cornelia bends down to inspect your glistening thighs. She makes a satisfied grunt, accompanied by a nod and turns to leave.
“That’s it?” Sam asks, eager to have you all to himself.
“That’s it, husband,” You tease, sitting up and crawling to him. You swing a leg over his stomach and straddle Sam’s narrow hips. “I hope you can perform as well without an audience.”
Sam chuckles, one hand on your waist, the other covering a breast. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
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Sweetheart Alpha
I’m not going to put the full request but like whatever, also I tweaked the request a tad bit hope that’s alright!
Alpha!Midoriya x Omega!Reader
Also, Medieval AU because why not
word count: 2,180 (about)
warnings: Bullying, harassment, swearing,
summary: you, are an omega a rarity, to say the least. and there is something even more peculiar about you, you’ve managed to attract the attention of the top three alphas, just your luck...
“I'm not going,” you stated firmly, quite literally putting your foot down. Sure stomping your foot might have been childish but, you didn't care. You were not going to go to the Mating festival, alone no less. You were too young, too inexperienced, too scared. You had heard stories about how cutthroat the Mating Festival could be. Not just the Alphas either. Every omega was out for the best Alpha, and the only way to do that was to crush the competition.
“I'm afraid you have no choice, your an Omega darling, you've already presented you need to find an Alpha,” your mother said fussing with the shawl on your shoulders. You didn't want to go, the idea terrified you. But the idea of having an Alpha of your own was, appealing, to say the least. The omega inside of you eventually won out, you climbed into your family's carriage. A few hours later you arrived at the arena. It wasn’t called the arena, you were sure it had a much fancier name but it was an arena to you. like the ones they had in Rome, you were sure it was going to be a blood bath.
Omegas and Alpha's alike were dressed in their finest clothing, their necks and wrists dripping with the most expensive of jewelry. You tried to hold your head high as you stepped from the carriage, but it was clear that you were wildly underdressed.
The first fight started almost as soon as you entered the high wall of the arena. An alpha girl with spiked red hair threw a boy, he must have been another alpha, through the air like he was nothing. You could see the fear in the poor boy's eyes, he was young and being made a fool of the poor thing. The redhead girl laughed as she tossed him in the air again. A few omegas joined her in laughing, you supposed some of them might actually be charmed by her display for strength. Something went wrong when he was thrown for a third time. He went sprawling into the crowd that had gathered the scrawny Alpha would have hit you square in the chest but you were yanked aside at the last second.
You were pulled into the warm strong embrace of a stranger. You looked up at him. He had two-toned eyes and his hair was half red and half white. “apologies, I should have asked before putting my hands on you, but I figured you would want me to save you,” the Boy wreaked of Alpha, it was almost overwhelming.
“thank you,” you whispered as his hands fell away from your waist.
“your an omega aren't you?” he asked, he started to move away from the crowd, without thinking you followed him.
“Indeed, your an alpha?” you asked already knowing the answer. He nodded and introduced himself. You had heard of the Todoroki Family before and it was hard to believe that one of the Todoroki sons was talking to you. You had lost track of time staring into his dreamy eyes, you for yourself on the outskirts of the enclosed space alone. He took a step forward, you took one back. It continued like this until you were pressed against one of the wooden walls. You were sure there were countless Omegas, betas even, who would have killed to be in your place but all you could feel was unbridled fear.
“you must have quite a few Alpha's after you, your scent is quite intoxicating. I smelled you before I saw you,” he purred low and soft dragging his finger over the sleeves of your dress. You wanted to run, or need to more like. But you were trapped.
“Not-Not as far as I know,” you stammered. Your eyes flicked around the space looking for a way out. He chuckled darkly
“Really? Then you must be ripe for the taking,” he said, his mouth hovering over your neck. You shoved him as hard you could, but you were no match for him.
“You fucking bastard get your filthy hands off of her!” someone cried, but they were far away. Too far away to possibly help even if they did mean to help you. All the same, Shoto Todoroki was knocked off of you. Maybe there were more alpha's who had their eye on you. Explosions and walls of ice surrounded the two alphas. Part of you wondered if they had planned this to show off even more. You slid away in all the commotion, you weren't sure you wanted an Alpha who was that violent. You just wanted to go home, but there was still a week of mating rituals before you. And you had to find yourself an alpha, even if it was that Scrany Blonde boy being thrown around like a ball. You could only imagine the look of shame on your mothers face if you were to come home without one.
You stayed on the outskirts letting the other alphas fight and court the more, outgoing, omegas. A gong rung out, everyone, seemingly without question. You followed as well, you gathered in the center of the arena for lunch. The buffet before you was mouthwatering, Roasted Meat, piles of salad and bread, good lord the bread. It was warm and buttered. You ate until your stomach hurt, you couldn't remember the last time you felt this full. You wanted to horde this food and take it back to your starving, beta parents.
You looked up suddenly not sure why until your eyes locked on to the alpha heading straight toward you. There was no way he could be going anywhere else. He was slim but still muscular, a light dusting of freckles covered his cheeks and his hair stood up in wild green spikes. He was attractive, the omega in you was drawn to him but there was another, more stubborn part, that had had enough of alphas for one day and was ready for some much-needed rest and relaxation.
You spun on your heal and headed towards the Omega quarters. Each of the rooms was labeled with the names of each of the omegas Invited to this event. Less than a hundred Omegas in total. You found the room with your name in no time. The belongings you had been allowed to take were set up in the room alongside a plush looking feather bed. You flung yourself on to the mattress and sighed. It was hardly noon and you were already prepared to go to sleep. Before you could relax even slightly or even pull out one of your beloved books, there was a thunderous knock on your door.
You flinched at the sound, you knew you weren't exactly supposed to be in here but had they really sent someone to yell at you for it? There was another knock. You got out of bed reluctantly and opened the door. Three girls were in front of you. There was a fire in each of their eyes, it was almost comical because each of them was at least a few inches shorter than you.
“Can I help you?” you asked the other omega's
“Listen up you third rate bitch I don't know what Todoroki sees in you but he's going to be my mate, so you better back the fuck up okay?” one of them snapped. She was blonde, her face covered in a cakey makeup.
“I don't want anything to do with Todoroki,” you said blankly.
“What about Bakugou?” another girl asked, this one's hair was done in long earth colored ringlets.
“who?” you asked genuinely not knowing who she was talking about, then you remembered the violent blonde alpha, there was a chance his name could have been bakugou.
“And Midoriya! Stay away from him too,” the last girl snapped, a pretty girl with honey-colored skin.
“I don't know who you're talking about,” you said becoming frustrated.
“Look, If you see any of us-” the blonde girl gestured to her entourage “with an Alpha, then consider that Alpha off limits. Okay?” she snipped
“whatever fine,” you said before shutting the door in her face. It shouldn't be too hard of a promises to keep. There were about three or four alphas for every one omega here. You fell back on the bed.
You must have fallen asleep because you were being awoken by another ringing of the gong, it was the evening meal, you were so full you didn't think you could force down another bite. But you got up none the less.
The food continued to wow you. You did your best to avoid the alphas instead you listened to the gossip of the Other Omegas. As it turned out you were correct, Bakugou was the Violent blonde omega and apparently, the Green haired Alpha was named Midoriya. While Todoroki and Bakuoug got the message and left you alone, Midoriya was persistent following you for as long as he could until he was stopped by some outside force. This royally pissed off every omega that had their eye on him. The three girls from before had also taken to following you. The next two days were spent dodging everyone who was after you. Creative and sneaky ways to get to your meals, you had taken to sleeping in trees and in other outdoorsy places so no one could ambush you in your room.
By the fourth day, you were exhausted of everything. Why couldn't people just leave you alone? You were too tired to notice Mydoriya as he snuck up behind you. “Hello,” he said softly, but you still jumped. It was too late to run. “Please don't be scared, I wanted to apologize to you,” he said holding his hands up showing he was harmless.
“I'm friends with Todoroki and Bakugou, I know they freaked you out and I wanted to say sorry on their behalf,” he said. “but you kept avoiding me, although I can't say I blame you I mean if I was an omega and some random Alpha was stalking me I'd be scared too-” he said starting to ramble, you decided to cut him off while you still could.
“thank you, your apologies mean a lot to me,” you said. You could see him brighten up. He was like a second sun.
“I'm glad I got to talk to you finally,” he said beaming. Your heart skipped a beat, you loved his smile.
“I should leave,” you said even though your Inner Omega was screaming for you to do anything but. His face fell.
“Right you probably have an alpha already huh?” he asked defeated.
“N-not exactly,” you were blushing and sweaty this boy who you had barely talked to, had turned you into a wreak. “it's just, there are a lot of Omega's after you and they warned me to stay away I don't want any trouble,” you explained quickly. His face grew hard and serious.
“Someone's threatening you?” he asked all light hardheartedness gone from his voice. You tried to formulate any kind of response but words failed you. “stay with me okay? I'll protect you,” he said, you should have said no but your frantic Omega wouldn't let you go a moment more without him beside you.
You spent the rest of the day by his side making chit chat with Midoriya until you landed on the subjects of Heroes. As it turned out, you were both huge Hero fans. It was cute how excited he got. Your heart ached that night when you had to leave him, you thought about him all night. The moment the sun was over the horizon you were out of your quarters casually strolling around the arena. “good morning (y/n),” a soft voice said from behind you. You jumped and whirled around to see Izuku standing behind you. “sorry I didn't mean to scare you, I just didn't want you to run away again,” he said sheepishly.
“It's okay, I won't run,” you promised. His thousand-watt smile was back. You caught the jealous glares of other omegas as you walked, but you didn't care. If Izuku wanted to spend time with them then he wouldn't be with you. Today was the last full day of the festival, you wanted to soak up every moment with him that you could. Tomorrow afternoon your father would be back to take you home, and hopefully your Alpha.
“can I tell you something?” he asked, his breath tickling your ear.
“of course,” you replied ignoring the shiver that ran down your spine.
“I didn't just want to apologize to you when I tried talking to you, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you,” he admitted.
“Really?” you asked breathlessly.
“Yeah, I don't know just the moment I lied eyes on you I had to get closer.” he continued then stopped “I shouldn't have said that you probably think I'm creepy.”
“I felt really drawn to you too,” you admitted.
“Really? Then...what would you think about being my Omega?” he asked his eyes sparkling with excitement, and nervousness.
“I would love too,” you smiled.
#alpha midoriya#midoriya izuku#Izuku#izuku x reader smut#izuku x reader#my hero academia#my hero acadamy#my hero academia imagine#my hero x reader#my hero academia head cannon#my hero academia abo
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Many ways to say I love you: Day Fourteen.
Kidge-a-palooza 2019 Prompt: When in Rome. Pairing: Kidge (VLD) Universe: Middle Age! AU Status: Part 1/2
The wolves around the field soon alerted her arrival when she was close enough to be detected, causing her to fall off her horse and subjecting her to the mud that completely messed up her chiton given by her father on her last birthday, at least the bundle that she had taken that night from the city managed to stay on the back of her horse. Some men alerted the village leader while they held her by the hands and feet with a rope that stung her skin, but she didn't have the option to move or say any word to her defense, a false move, and the Celts could cut out her tongue.
Katie was a Roman, a sworn enemy of those people and shouldn't be hanging around those places if she didn't want to meet a painful death. She knew it very well, but even so her tenacity and logic had pointed out that this was a better option than what she had in Rome. She could no longer flee to her home even if she wanted to, cowardice was not in her genes, nor in her family.
She swallowed hard when one of the spears of the men who subjected her ripped fiercely the clothes she wore to protect herself from the cold winter that was lashing the earth, to strip her of the honor of the Holt family shield drawn on the back of her. No longer It served her anyway, it had done his job when the Celts recognizing the emblem to consider her part of the Roman nobility and not kill her as soon as they saw her without first questioning her. Katie thought that perhaps for the same reason they left her decency intact in not undressing her completely. For now.
They made her walk towards the center of the village with her eyes downcast, listening in the distance as they took her horse, while they discovered the identity of the person on her back with surprise. Katie secretly thanked them for not murdering her horse immediately, it was the only bond left from her destroyed family. They threw her hard so that she fell to the ground while a large bonfire kept burning at her side, with many people surrounding her with a disgusted look, others somewhat intrigued by her furtive presence, and many more frightened waiting for an army to appear in any moment to attack them. Even Katie wished that the latter wouldn't happen, even if she knew that she had hidden her fingerprints efficiently as her father had taught her.
A loud throat clearing came to her attention after the crowd calmed down slightly, causing Katie to look up. There, surrounded by great warriors who doubled his stature, a guy who didn't look older than her brother was looking at her with skepticism. His charcoal-black hair and symmetrical tattoos on each side of his cheeks revealed to Katie that he was the right person.
''What are you doing here, Roman?'' His words were soft, but he didn't avoid spitting the last word from his lips. Katie sighed heavily as she thought her words carefully.
''I've come to bring Shiro back.''
A loud cry was heard around treating her as a lying bitch, pouncing on her in an attempt to kill her with their own hands. But Katie remained silent with her eyes set on the guy, preventing the tremor of fear and cold from showing on her body. One of the men who had seen taking the body of her horse approached the boy's side quickly, apparently on the verge of tears over what he found.
''She says the truth, she brought Shiro back to us. Although ... He lost his right arm.'' Silence reigned in the environment for a few seconds. Until Katie felt a rope around her throat tighten tightly, cutting off the air.
''Your disgusting bitch! What did your emperor do with Shiro!?''
Katie moaned in panic as soon as she felt a horrible pain in her lungs from the lack of air. After a few seconds when one of the older men ordered him to stop, he loosened the rope and Katie coughed trying to get some air back into her lungs. She shivered slightly when she felt the same man grab her hair, to look up at her leader again.
''We should kill you right now and send your pretty head to your dear parents.'' Whispered, pressing harder the grip he had on her hair. Katie moaned in panic and pain. ''So we would recover some of the pain that we have been through all these years.''
''My parents are dead for saving Shiro's life.'' She answered almost without air when she was able to return the look, with the same anger that he professed. ''My death has no value for Rome or for the empire, you stupid son of a bitch.''
''Enough, Antok!''
A second voice caused the Celtic to let go of Katie's hair, causing her to fall to the ground in one fell swoop, barely managing to stay on her feet. It had been the leader Katie recognized as the youngest, the person Shiro had told her to find no matter what. At least he had not been wrong when he told her that he would protect her from death when he knew that she had helped Shiro.
''How did you get here?''
''Shiro guided me before falling unconscious.'' She answered tired, trying to take some of her clothes to protect herself from the frigid breeze. ''We ran to flee just from the guard when we passed the walls but he lost a lot of blood on the road.''
''So, you're against the Roman Empire?'' Asked the boy, Katie nodded after a few seconds.
''I have nothing to return.''
It had been her last words, before falling to the ground. Her body and mind had been taken to the limit in less than two days that she felt like weeks. Katie had already fulfilled her older brother's last request before abandoning him in the house that she had called home during her whole life, engulfed in flames and cries of pain at the apparent betrayal of her emperor when they took themselves to the main attraction of the Coliseum. Now she only hoped that the gods would take compassion on her and be able to join her family in eternal rest.
She had nothing left to fight for, and no home to return.
...
He touched Shiro's white lock for the third time that day while he was by his side, naively thinking that at any moment he would vanish into thin air. But there he was, sitting at one of the tables while he ate with everyone else, talking animatedly and joking about his new metal arm that he won during his years at the Colosseum. Keith felt that this day was much more colorful than the previous ones, even if they were in the middle of winter. The knot in his chest had loosened and he felt he could finally breathe after a long time.
Shiro looked at him amused when he felt his fingers on his hair, before taking a piece of flesh to his lips.
''You are eating very slowly.'' Keith said while looking at him worriedly. ''Are you sure you're okay? You don't need anything else?''
''I'm fine Keith, honestly.'' He answered tired, without removing the smile from his lips. Lance tentatively began to touch Shiro's arm. ''You seem much stranger than me. Lance is enough.''
''Well, not every day our disappeared friend returns after many years of the hands of the Romans, along with the daughter of a minister. Forgive us if we are a little misplaced with all this.''
''Lance ...'' Keith warned him, but Lance was confused.
''What? Did I say something wrong?''
''Speaking of which...'' Shiro placed the cutlery on the table, ending his lunch. ''How is Pidge?''
'' She is okay, her fever has gone down, but she refuses to eat anything we bring her, Shay told me to tell you, but I guess I forgot completely.'' Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose at the words of Lance. But he preferred to ignore it.
''Maybe it's better that I go see her as soon as possible.''
''I'm going with you.'' Keith said while accompanying him towards the exit. ''I know you're worried about her, but it's my duty as part of the council to question her about what happened, now that she can speak.''
''I understand, I think you're the best option of all the others.'' He touched the outline of his metal arm with some concern. ''When they told me about what happened with Antok, I thought she would be afraid of the Celts. I'm worried Keith, she's just a little girl.''
Keith preferred to remain silent at Shiro's words. He was grateful that she sacrificed herself in such a way to bring his brother back into his life. But he had lost his father in a fight against the Romans when they removed part of his land many years ago, so he still had certain defenses with having it in one of the cabins.
She wasn't only Roman, she was the daughter of one of the emperor's chief ministers who had stripped them of everything, although she admitted not feeling any kind of loyalty against them, Keith couldn't trust in her so quickly.
They opened the door slowly to see that, inside the hut, the windows had been covered with sheets and animal skins, preventing the light from reaching inside naturally. Only the fire at the end of the room gave light to that small space. The girl that Shiro called as Pidge was sitting looking at her hands as something very interesting, while the dish that Shay had prepared for her was on the table untouched. Keith took a deep breath before approaching, Shiro sat on the end of the bed to caress her hair with sweetness. Pidge looked up slowly, there, Keith could only see a deep pain.
There was no shine in her eyes.
''I'm glad to know that you're finally wake up, Pidge. You need something?'' Her gaze fell to a part of the bed.
''I want my family, Shiro.'' She said in a broken voice, Keith shuddered at her pain. ''I want them back. Bring them back, Shiro. Please...''
Keith watched as Pidge clung to Shiro burying her face in his neck, repeating over and over again those words, as if that were enough to make it come true. She was crying inconsolably like a little girl, what Keith implied to her was not far from reality, she was, in fact, a barely enough child, with a body so thin that he could easily lift it with one of his arms. Suddenly, without realizing it, he saw himself reflected in her years ago when he had lost his father in a bloody battle that forced them to emigrate to distant lands, and when at last he felt that he could see his future clearly as part of the guard of warriors who defended his people, the Romans had taken Shiro from his life.
If his mother and friends hadn't been there with Keith to help him and comfort him in the worst moments, he might have lost his mind many years ago.
But she had no one, she was alone in the world with a group of people who claimed her head for the actions of her people.
He left the cabin to go towards his obligations, the last thing she needed was for an unknown person to see her completely vulnerable. After various hours while helping the younger guard guys shoot with the bow at a precise distance, he saw Shiro come out more exhausted than before.
He approached him as fast as Keith could without first delegating his work to Lance, who was just lying down flirting with the girls around. But Shiro was not willing to say him anything about what he had spoken with the Roman, according to his words, it was something personal that no one else should know.
Pidge was in a duel, after all, and Keith realized through the days, while he saw Shiro coming and going from the cabin to look for food and things necessary for the comfort of the girl, that nothing of what she said it would be relevant against the Roman Empire. She had been abandoned and was treated as a traitor by her people, it was the only truth they surely needed to know.
After some days, reaching the middle of a lunar cycle, was when he saw her leave the cabin along with Shiro as a guide. Keith was helping Hunk shredding the morning hunt, and from a distance, he could see how she was trying to walk away ignoring the scathing comments and the looks of hatred around her.
''It must be hard for her.'' Hunk spoke after a few seconds, drawing Keith's attention.
''What thing?''
''Well, be alone, basically.'' Hunk looked up at Pidge, who was arguing with some children about her unkempt hair, which had bothered her while Shiro laughed at her side. ''Don't think I have no judgments about it, she is still a Roman. But ... She's proven to be strong enough to be a child, I admire her for that. How old will he be? Ten? Twelve?''
''She's fourteen.'' Keith replied, making Hunk look at him with surprise. Keith just shrugged. ''Shiro told me a few days ago when he was looking for towels for her bleeding.''
''Wow, I wonder if the privileged life will give you youth.'' Hunk commented funny.
''One life that surely will not come back.'' Keith said in a whisper.
''Are you sure? At any moment she could take her horse and return to Rome. It wouldn't be very difficult for her now that she knows the way.'' Keith shook his head at Hunk's words.
''She lost her rights when she helped Shiro to escape. This is how the empire works.'' He emphasized his words by cutting one of the deer's feet with his knife. ''When in Rome you are considered a traitor, you are forever, with no exceptions.''
''Then I guess this is her new life.''
Keith nodded after a few minutes when he watched her lost in thought. Apparently, the children and Pidge had come to a truce, seeing how they ordered her hair into tiny braids to give it a more graceful movement. With the green peplum that Shay had given her to use in her daily life, Pidge could easily pass as a Celtic over her clan. Her hair was brown, that in the light of day gave a golden appearance like the sunset, and her eyes little by little began to take the natural shine of angelic innocence, typical of her age. Keith jumped at Lance's loud snort when he saw him at his side staring at him suspiciously, but Keith only feigned ignorance as he tore the intestines from the deer he worked.
Something that Keith was able to assume, is that he was infinitely grateful to Pidge for saving the life of his beloved brother. Nothing more than that.
His heart skipped a beat when, in the distance, he could hear her laugh for the first time, and Hunk's words echoed in his head like an unbreakable promise.
Then I guess this is her new life.
...
She watched as the fire in the fireplace went out until it was nothing but a few ashes in the room, while Shiro rested on the side of the bed completely asleep, Katie usually hated the snoring, but at that moment, it was not annoyed if she know that Shiro was at her side, alive.
Her health had improved considerably after a couple of days of recovery, so the village leaders decided that Katie would stay in Shiro's cabin while they decided what to do with her presence, which was much more spacious and comfortable thanks to his warrior title.
From that day, while helping as much as possible in the tasks that the leaders told her to be of some help among the people, Katie couldn't help but think that she didn't belong there. She didn't like doing the cleaning, but she was efficient in taking care of the jobs that required welding and repair. And she liked to play with the children around her while their parents went hunting in nearby lands, seeing her as someone too harmless to do some kind of harm the young children. But in spite of everything and Shiro's kindness in making herself as comfortable as possible near his village, the looks of hatred and occasional blows didn't diminish in the slightest. They let her know that she was an enemy, an unwanted individual around.
Katie couldn't blame them at all, her people had taken too many things from them over the years. Too many lives wouldn't return even if she wanted to.
She took one of the wolf skins that covered the bed and placed it on her shoulders and quietly left the cabin. The village was in utter silence during the night, which made sense since they got up early next to the first rays of light on the sky. For Katie, it had been a martyrdom being that she was a nocturnal woman, and Shiro didn't give her any rest while she had something to do.
Could saw in the distance men singing around a fire while they drank, which she immediately recognized as the youngest in the army. Katie feared for a few seconds to the idea that they saw her without the protection of her dear friend, so she walked quickly in the opposite direction, towards a valley that raised, away from anyone's sight.
Finally, she sat down to contemplate the night sky calmly, recalling everything that happened a few weeks ago in her life. The conviction in the eyes of her family in rescuing the Celtic slave when her father recognized him as a former ally during his exploratory trips, the words of her older brother trying to convince her that everything would be fine. Her home on fire when one of the guards learned about her family's betrayal of the nation, and her new life as an outsider under the protection of a few people who considered her an ally after Shiro had defended her from prejudice, all in a few weeks that felt like years. They were so many emotions that Katie didn't realize at the time that she began to cry inconsolably about her losses.
Her life had been so easy until recently, and now she didn't know how to continue living without feeling displaced. Completely alone.
Suddenly, she felt strong breathing beside her with an animal moan, when Katie looked up, she could see a big wolf with dark fur and bright eyes watching her curious while sniffing. She watched him cautiously, touching his back when she realized it would not hurt her.
''Hey buddy, are you coming to see the moon?'' The wolf snuggled up beside her looking for her warmth, Katie laughed comfortably feeling his weight on her side. ''Yeah, I also have something cold. Do you have a name, or do you haven't home too?''
''It's Kosmo.''
The voice was heard so close that Katie sat up quickly, fearful and ready to defend herself, eyes as dark as the night watched her with inquisition as he slowly approached her side. It was the guy Lance called a mullet, and who had saved her the first time she brought Shiro to the Celtic village.
''You shouldn't be wandering alone around; others could take it as an act of betrayal.'' Katie remained rigid in her position, watching as the wolf approached his side moving his tail playfully. ''You will not be thinking about going home, will you?''
''I told you the first time, I have no home to return.'' Katie answered dryly; Keith raised his eyebrow massaging the back of his partner.
''It's not what Shiro thinks.''
''But the village yes.''
Keith sighed at her words, but Katie didn't relax at any moment when she wiped her face with the sleeve of her dress to brush away the tears. Even though she knew he would not hurt her, she didn't trust him or anyone else who looked potentially dangerous.
''Are you reproaching the fears of my village? They have strong reasons to question your loyalty.''
''I don't recriminate them; I just say a fact.'' Katie answered, taking a step back when she saw him approach. ''I don't have a home to belong.''
The last thing Katie was able to elucidate before being thrown to the ground, was the cold sensation of a knife around her neck, and the look of that boy dangerously close to her face. His hair fell like a night veil around her, darkening his features and frightening her agitated heart even more. She couldn't get up, his body was small compared to the others, but Katie was even more so, holding her without difficulty.
Katie let out a quick moan as soon as she felt him press the edge a little more on her skin, silently warning her not to make any strange movement.
''If you feel forsaken, then I should kill you right now.'' Keith hissed angrily in his words. ''Shiro is giving you a second chance living in this village. Obviously, we will all have our defenses, but we are trying. And you only seem to lament in your own misery!'' Keith huffed frustrated pressing the knife more and more over her throat. Katie opened her eyes fearful when she felt the blood corrode through her neck, and sharp pain when she felt her skin slowly separate, writhing over her body to free herself. ''Who would say it, you also bleed...''
''Let me go! You are hurting me!''
''Is not that what do you want?''
''I don't!''
Katie hit his stomach with her knee as soon as she was able to move, taking the air out of his lungs when she freed herself from his grip. Her neck burned painfully and the wolf came to her side to sniff her worriedly. There, on the floor, Keith was barely able to recover after a few minutes. Watching her with annoyance mixed with the surprise that she was capable of defending herself.
After several minutes contemplating in silence while they recovered from the recent shock. Katie spoke.
''I want to live without feeling a burden to anyone. That's why I'm trying too.'' She said in pause but determined in each word. ''Or is it that I have no right to feel pain because of the death of my family?''
''No, you don't.'' Keith stood up suddenly, so Katie thought he would throw himself on her as he did a few minutes ago, but he just kept his knife in his waist. ''There is no place for the weakness, keep going or perish with your family, Roman. Don't waste our time trying, do it. And maybe then we will consider you one of us.''
She didn't say anything at his words, nor when he turned to go back to the village that was still asleep. Katie touched her throat looking for some cut, but only felt a slight scratch that bothered her at the touch of the cold winter breeze.
Remained in silent watching the sky next to the wolf that didn't leave from her all night, thinking about the words of that violent guy. Deep in her heart, she knew he was right.
#pidge#katieholt#kidge#kidgefanfic#monthofkidge#kidgeapalooza#kidgeapalooza2019#voltron#voltronship#keith kogane#keith (voltron)#peith#roman au#celt Keith#roman Pidge#takashi shirogane#hunk garrett
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Come up and see me (make me smile)
Golgotha, 33 AD
Summary: Golgotha, 3004 BC.
Word count: 1934 words
AN: Continues on from the role-reversal au started in Come up and see me (make me smile)
Thanks again to @mia-ugly for being a wonderful and supportive beta reader.
(read on ao3)
Six hours.
That was how long he suffered before death finally took him.
Six. Fucking . Hours.
(“They call it crucifixion.” Aziraphale had told him once - centuries ago, in a Persian tavern - eyes downcast, as his fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the jar of wine in his hands. “They hammer seven-inch nails between the wrist bones to suspend the body’s weight then, over time, the force wrenches the shoulders from their sockets and crushes the rib cage.” he explained flatly. “The condemned is kept in excruciating pain until they suffocate or their heart gives out.“ The demon drank deeply from the jar. "It can last for hours, even days depending on the method.” He looked up, meeting Crowley’s eyes for the first time that evening. “Every time I think I’ve seen the full extent of their barbarity - every blessed time - they find a way to outdo themselves.“)
Unlike Aziraphale, this was the first crucifixion Crowley had attended. Although the demon’s description had been accurate Crowley found it hadn’t prepared him for the actual experience.
In fairness to the demon, Crowley wasn’t sure words existed that could fully convey the experience as well as agonized screams were able to.
Crowley hadn’t attended the trial or the sentencing, it felt pointless when he knew what the outcome would be. He had however attempted to miracle the man impervious to pain. (It seemed like the least he could do). Crowley had felt it take effect with some satisfaction, and then felt it being reverted immediately with annoyance. He tried two more times before he received a strongly-worded communication (i.e. Gabriel yelling directly into his brain) that any further interference would be treated as grounds for Crowliel’s removal from earth. A follow-up from Michael (rather less yelling, but still headache-inducing) warned Crowley that crucifixion had been chosen especially for its brutality (to establish a “convincingly sympathetic religious symbol”) and that he should keep an eye out for demonic interference instead of being a nuisance.
Well, that was him told .
He arrived at Golgotha just as the procession made its way to the base of the skull-shaped rock. Aziraphale spotted him shortly afterwards, the demon weaving through the crowd to take a place at Crowley’s side. They had both winced - and noticed the other doing so - as the centurion’s hammer was put to its purpose. Aziraphale threw Crowley a look as if to say ” well, this is certainly fucked up “ but otherwise remained silent.
As the mourners wailed, and the three men grew more delirious from pain, Crowley wondered why his demonic counterpart was even there. Unlike other demons - Aziraphale was not the type to take pleasure from others’ suffering, yet he also seemed disinclined to interfere. Instead he looked restless, he kept stealing uneasy glances skyward and at Crowley as though he were waiting for divine intervention.
Good luck with that. Crowely thought bitterly.
The hours passed, the sky darkened - Jesus finally, blessedly, died - and the bodies were brought down and carried away. The mourners and spectators gradually dispersed until it was just the two of them remaining, sitting side by side on a large bench-shaped rock the demon had miracled about three hours into the proceedings.
But now, Aziraphale had taken to his feet - he was pacing back and forth. Crowley watched him and found himself torn. Equal parts longing to start a conversation and unable to think of anything to say. Well, he could think of plenty to say, but there was a low-burning bitter fury in his gut - the type that led him to voice the sort of thoughts that worried his demonic friend. So he remained silent.
“Did you ever meet him?” Aziraphale asked, a little too suddenly, as if the question has been on the tip of his tongue for hours.
Crowley shook his head, still staring out at the now-empty wooden beams.
“I did once,” Aziraphale started, “I was assigned to tempt him to faithlessness.” Crowley looked up at that, and Aziraphale smiled wryly at his surprise. “I don’t think anyone below really expected it to take, they just felt like we should be seen to do something .”
“How did that work out for you?” Crowley asked, genuinely curious.
“He was exceptionally clever and stubbornly devout. How do you think it went?” Crowley smirked at him, and Aziraphale laughed. “I changed tactics of course. Debated theology and ethics with him until I was blue in the face - we had forty days so thought odds were good I might catch him in some form of hypocrisy. It was truly vexing. He gave the impression that I amused him.” Aziraphale seemed fond of the memory. “You would have liked him.”
Crowley didn’t doubt it.
“I’m sure I would have.”
(It was the reason he had avoided Nazareth since the annunciation. He may have been slow on the uptake - it might have taken forty years of pointless wandering with a tribe of doomed Israelites - but no one could say he didn’t learn from his mistakes. When the Almighty played favourites it was best not to get emotionally invested.
He felt an urge to confess that to Aziraphale, but suppressed it. Crowley was unsure whether Aziraphale would applaud his self-preservation or be disgusted with his cowardice.)
“Be kind to each other.” the demon said out of the blue, startling Crowley from his thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“That’s what he said to anger them all.” The demon’s tone was inscrutable, but Crowley thought his words were an over-simplification.
“For my money, it was his knack for drawing crowds and threatening their authority.”
Aziraphale shook his head angrily.
“He was kind and they tortured him for it.” The demon’s voice had a hard edge to it. “He believed in Her and She abandoned him.” he spat.
Oh.
The demon turned his face away. Crowley heard his breathing hitch.
“Aziraphale…” Crowley didn’t know what to say, how to approach this type of anger. (A millennia-old question burned in his throat, one he desperately wanted answered but not at the cost of causing his friend more pain.)
“Do you think She felt anything when he cried out for Her?” the demon asked.
Crowley wanted badly to reach out and grasp Aziraphale’s hand within his own. Wanted to use that grip to pull the demon into his arms. Wanted to offer him whatever comfort he could. Wanted, but didn’t.
Coward.
His fingers twitched.
“Aziraphale, I-”
The demon turned to look at Crowley and studied him. He forced a smile.
“It’s alright dear.”
“No it’s…”
“Let’s not speak of it.” he says firmly. “I shouldn’t have sa-”.
“She’s bringing him back.” Crowley blurted out, stopping the demon in his tracks.
“What?”
“In three days, he’ll be resurrected. Then he’ll ascend to a seat by her side. She didn’t-” abandon him. Crowley cut himself off. “It wasn’t a punishment.” he said instead.
Aziraphale stared at him. Crowley stood, approaching the demon slowly as though he might bolt.
“I’m glad for him.” Aziraphale said finally, voice raw.
Liar. Crowley thought. His expression must give him away because Aziraphale’s lips twisted into a smile. “No, really. He didn’t deserve that.”
“No he didn’t.” Crowley stressed with absolute certainty, hoping he’d made himself clear. He received a sharp look in response.
“Don’t. I was indulging in self-pity and you shouldn’t humour me- just don’t.”
Crowley raised both hands placatingly.
“OK I won’t.”
“Good.” Aziraphale pronounced.
A beat of awkward silence hung between them.
Aziraphale fumbled with his outer tunic and produced a leather pouch. He unfastened the tie and held it out to Crowley. “Apricot?”
Crowley stared at him blankly.
“You brought snacks?“ (A small, easily dismissed, part of Crowley's brain delighted in how precious that was.)
“I always carry something,” the demon replied defensively. “And I haven’t eaten all day!”
Crowley rolled his eyes. “We don’t need to eat.”
Aziraphale shrugged and stuffed a few apricots into his mouth. “It does feel awfully good though.” he responded, while chewing. The innocent pleasure on his face cheered Crowley considerably.
“Oh go on,” he held a hand out.
Aziraphale grinned, and dumped five or six pieces onto Crowley’s palm. Then the cheeky bastard laughed.
“Who knew tempting an angel would be so easy?”
Crowley stared at the dried fruit in his hand and then back at the demon. He picked up a piece and regarded it carefully, enjoying the weight of Aziraphale’s anticipation. Then, he pelted it at him. He grinned at the demon’s surprised yelp.
“Will you stay here long?” Crowley asked innocently, entertained by the way Aziraphale was warily eyeing the remaining apricots in his hand.
Aziraphale shook his head. “Received orders last night, it’s Rome for me. You?”
Crowley popped the rest of the dried fruit in his mouth. “Here for the time being,” he replied, chewing thoughtfully, “although Heaven knows I should look in on the empire if you’ve been left there unattended.”
Aziraphale groaned at the familiar jibe.
“It’s been over five decades, surely we can move past this?"
"Of course, as soon as you stop insulting my intelligence and just admit what you did.”
“You have no proof whatsoever.”
“Four years of you whinging about Alexandria, then his senators turn on him the very week you arrive in the city.”
"Coincidence?” Aziraphale offered sheepishly.
“Try again.”
“Divine justice?”
Crowley glared at him. Aziraphale gave him a charming smile.
“It really was a beautiful library.”
Crowley tried to maintain the glare, but failed miserably. Completely unable to contain an amused huff.
He turned to look in the east, where the sun was beginning to rise. “I should probably be off soon.”
“Go on, I’m planning to fly to Jaffa from here anyway.”
Crowley hung back. Though the demon had hinted at his other form several times Crowley had never seen it.
“You know you can transform in front of me right? I wouldn’t think less of you for it.”
“Oh I know that,” the demon responded far too quickly, “it’s just not very impressive that’s all.”
“I don’t mind.”
Aziraphale looked uncomfortable. “They’re meant to be a bad omen, I wouldn’t want to curse you inadvertently.”
Crowley smirked.
“I’ll take my chances.”
Aziraphale sighed and then changed. Shrinking rapidly, his black and white curls morphed into brown and white feathers. His yellow eyes were the only part of him that remained the same. Crowley stretched out a hand and Aziraphale flew up to perch on it. He couldn’t have been more than eight inches tall.
“You’re adorable.” Crowley raised a finger to stroke the downy patch underneath his beak and received a (gentle peck).
“I’m formidable.” The owl grumbled back.
“You’re so little.” Another peck, this time sharper. “None of that now.” Crowley chastised. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t show this form off more, you’re very handsome like this.”
“Oh handsome ‘like this’ am I? Thank you very much.” Crowley tried not to laugh as the annoyed demon literally ruffled its feathers.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Your eyes are always very striking, demon.”
“I’ll see you in Rome, angel . That is if you can bear to see my hideous human form."
That did make Crowley laugh. "You’re just fishing for compliments now.” he stroked Aziraphale’s head, somewhat surprised the demon was allowing such an affectionate gesture. The owl made a happy sounding trill noise which it cut off abruptly - as though it had taken him by surprise. Without another word the demon head-butted Crowley’s fingers away and flew off.
Crowley watched until Aziraphale disappeared from view before he made his way back to the town.
#good omens#good omens fic#ineffable husbands#ineffable husbands fic#good omens role reversal#role reversal au#reversed omens#demon!aziraphale#angel!crowley#my writing
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