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love-and-monsters · 4 years ago

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Caged Fae: Halloween

M Fae X F reader, 6,041 words

Enjoy a Halloween festival with your roommate Fae, Yarrow. Have fun taking in the sights of the seasons. This story is a continuation of Caged Fae, which can be found here.

Delicately, you adjusted the mask so that it sat snugly on Yarrow’s face. “What do you think?”

Yarrow blinked out at you, his gaze as steady and unperturbed as ever. “Any opinions?” you pressed. “Yes? No?”

He reached up and delicately unhooked the mask from his face. Delicately, he folded the ribbon, tucked it into the mask, and handed the whole thing back to you. “Is that a no?” you said.

Yarrow smiled enigmatically. He got up and wandered back across the room to the small pile of gourds you had collected. You followed after him.

Come on. You have to give me some hint. I thought this would go well with your antlers,” you said. The mask was made of light wood and molded into the rough shape of a deer’s face. There were deep red and gold markings painted along the eyes and curves of the mask, giving it a striking look. “Don’t you want to go out without hiding your antlers?”

Yarrow turned his head and looked at you for a moment. It had been a few months since you’d rescued him, and he had tagged along with you to the market a few times after glamouring his antlers. His quiet, polite demeanor had earned him a few admirers, mostly the older women who treated him like a beloved nephew. “It’s All Hallow’s Eve,” you prompted gently. “It’s a party. Don’t you want to go out?”

Yarrow patted your hand for a moment, then went back to fiddling with the gourds. You sighed. Fae were mysterious creatures, and when Yarrow was in one of his moods, there was no getting through to him.

Instead, you picked up the mask and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” you called over your shoulder. “Hold down the fort for me.”

There were hurried footsteps behind you. You turned to see Yarrow holding out your coat. He shook it at you, lifting an eyebrow.

“Oh. Thank you,” you said, slipping into it. Yarrow nodded, then retreated back to the pile of gourds. You slipped out the door and down the path to the town center.

There was a bite of cold to the air as you walked, and the trees had exploded into fiery color. The town was bustling- All Hallow’s Eve was in less than a week and everyone was trying to get the final festival details in order.

“How was the mask?” Mr. Demark asked as you stopped at his stall. His usual trade was carpentry, but around this time of year, he also sold beautiful wooden masks. His wife, who designed and painted most of them, perked up, waiting for your verdict.

You slid the mask across the stall’s table toward them. “Sorry. I don’t think this one is what he wants either.”

“That boy,” Mrs. Demark said, picking up the mask and examining it. “Not easily satisfied, is he?”

You’d taken four masks from the stand so far, an owl, a wolf, a bobcat, and finally the deer. Yarrow had tried each of them on with perfect patience, then taken them back off and handed them to you. “I’m sure he wants something specific,” you said. “I just don’t know what it is.”

“Any luck teaching him to write yet?” Mrs. Demark asked. You shook your head. You were pretty sure Yarrow could read as well as he could understand you, but every time he wrote anything, it was in an odd, swirly script that you couldn’t make sense of at all. You weren’t sure if he wasn’t writing because he refused to write in a human language for some reason or if he physically couldn’t, but the result was the same. It didn’t help that Yarrow never seemed terribly concerned with whether or not you understood him.

“I’d like him to dress up,” you said. “I do want him to be able to enjoy the festival. But he just doesn’t seem to like anything I give him.”

“Want to try another one?” Mr. Demark asked. You glanced over the few masks he still had. There weren’t many left; it was close enough to the holiday itself that most people had secured their costumes.

“I don’t know,” you said after a moment, shaking your head. “I don’t want to bring him back something he doesn’t want again.”

“Here.” Mrs. Demark rummaged in her pouch and passed you a few coins. “Your money back. Don’t want you to waste it on something you’re not going to use.”

You tucked the money away. “I’m sorry about Yarrow.” Mrs. Demark waved you off.

“Never mind. Perhaps he just doesn’t like costumes,” she said. You nodded and headed off into the rest of the market.

The more you turned the words over in your mind, the more likely they seemed. Yarrow had been held captive in a circus, after all, where odd costumes were the norm. Perhaps masks brought back bad memories. Your stomach tightened at the thought of it. Maybe it would be uncomfortable to be out at all and he was just trying to be polite and humor you.

You finished up your shopping and hurried home a little after the sun had set. Yarrow was standing outside when you got home, apparently unbothered by the cold, as he was wearing only his usual thin clothes. He straightened when he saw you approaching, looking at you intently.

“Hey,” you said as you walked up to him. “Everything okay?”

Yarrow tilted his head, considering you for a moment. “Sorry I’m late,” you said with a glance at the sky. “I know I said it’d only be an hour, but, you know. Things kind of got away from me. I got you something,” you added, hoping to get Yarrow to stop looking at you with a vaguely disapproving expression. Apparently, he wasn’t easily bribed, because the furrow in his brow just deepened.

You stepped into the house and pulled off your coat. There was already a fire in the stove and stepping into the glow helped drive away the chill that had sunk through your skin. “Here,” you said, passing one of the packages to Yarrow. He turned it over in his hands. “They’re spiced cookies. A specialty from a local bakery.”

He nibbled at one delicately as you unpacked everything else. Yarrow seemed to appreciate heavily spiced foods, you’d noticed, or ones with a strong scent. It had taken you an embarrassingly long time to realize that was because he couldn’t taste anything.

He ate slowly while you put all your things away. Occasionally, he would reach out and turn one of your purchases over in his hand, or run his fingers over a bolt of fabric. You’d purchased several items that were more frivolous than usual- you had more money to spend thanks to Yarrow and the end of fall also signaled the end of traveling merchants. It had been a bit fun to pick up some interesting items for the winter.

“I thought this might be nice for you,” you said, holding out a long bolt of fabric. It was soft, but weighty, and made of a deep forest green. Next to it, you held up a section of white fur. It had been fairly expensive, but you had been almost compelled to buy it. It looked regal, elegant, and it fit with Yarrow’s otherworldly air. He rolled it in his hands, examining the texture of the fur.

“What do you think?” you asked. “I know you don’t technically need a winter coat, but if we go out, it’ll look weird if you’re not wearing one, and I thought it would look nice.”

Yarrow stared down at the fabric, running his fingers over and over it. Finally, he lifted his head and gave you a smile. Relief lightened your chest. “Okay. Good.”

The nights were getting colder and colder. Yarrow seemed entirely unbothered by it, but you had started keeping the fire on at night and dragging out your heavier quilts. Still, it didn’t quite drive away the cold. You still woke up shivering and the quilt was cold when you got into it every night. Yarrow still slept mostly on the floor, rarely even bothering with a pillow.

You had no idea if that was something typical of Fae or if being trapped in a cage had given him odd notions of comfort.

It took a couple of days to pluck up the nerve to ask Yarrow about All Hallow’s Eve. Part of that was just you being uncertain how to approach the content. You didn’t want to accidentally upset him. He’d given no indication that he was traumatized by it, but he also hadn’t given any indication that he wasn’t. It was hard to tell when he didn’t talk and his expressions seemed generally aloof. Trying to pick a way to approach him that was neither too insensitive nor too timid was an awkward space to fit into.

The other problem with talking to Yarrow was that it had become rather difficult to find him.

Pulling a vanishing act in a house that only had three rooms was pretty impressive, but Yarrow managed. He moved soundlessly, aided by the face that he was pretty much always barefoot. Most of the time, you would look up only to find he had completely vanished from the room with no sign of where he’d gone.

If he wasn’t inside, he was usually in the garden. Yarrow never wandered all that far from you. He’d never moved all that far from the house if you were inside, despite not really having a reason to stay. You were grateful for his presence, nonetheless. He was surprisingly good company.

Finding him in the garden could still be a bit of a task, though. With his influence, the garden had grown enormously, with plants sprouting into enormous tangles of leaves and vines. It took time to search the whole thing, and it was really starting to get cold outside. You shivered under an icy wind as you picked your way through the garden. “Yarrow?” you called. “Yarrow, are you out here?”

Something to your left rustled and you turned to see Yarrow emerging from a thicket of berry bushes. They were still green, despite the frost creeping up, but you were pretty sure even Yarrow’s powers weren’t going to last forever. A few of the leaves had already given up and littered the ground beneath them. Yarrow brushed some leaves off his front and looked at you questioningly.

“Oh, here, let me-” You reached up and brushed a leaf from his hair. “There’s one in your antlers. Hold on…” Without thinking, you grabbed the antler and tugged his head down, pulling the offending leaf off from where it had been impaled. Yarrow complied with your tugging, showing not even the slightest hint of resistance as you tugged on his head. The realization of what you were doing struck you and you released him. “Oh. Er. Sorry.” Yarrow straightened back up and looked at you curiously. “Right. Um. Can we talk?”

Asking to talk with Yarrow was mostly just asking if it was okay for you to talk at him, but he nodded and headed back into the house. You followed him inside, hanging up the shawl you’d tossed on before heading outside. Admittedly, it had done very little against the chill.

Something heavy fell onto your shoulder. You looked up as Yarrow tucked a blanket around your shoulders and pushed you toward the fire. “Oh, I’m fine. You don’t need to-” Yarrow tugged your hands insistently. “Okay, okay. I’m sitting.”

You settled in front of the fire, readjusting the blanket so it was more secure on your shoulders. Yarrow sat across from you, the firelight flickering across his features. It cast sharp shadows on his face. “So, All Hallow’s Eve is in a couple of days.” Yarrow nodded. “I just, you know wanted to talk about it.” Yarrow tilted his head patiently, waiting for you to go on. “I just wanted to ask about… how you’re feeling about this? I mean, going out in costumes and everything. I know you were kept for a while in a place where they used costumes a lot, and you seemed uncomfortable when we were trying on all those masks. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That this wasn’t bringing back any bad memories.”

Yarrow stared at you. He tilted his head a little, blinking. “Yes? No?” you said. “It’s okay if you want to stay home. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

He looked at you for a moment longer, then his expression softened. His lips turned up in a small smile and his shoulders shook in a way you recognized- Yarrow was laughing. He reached out and patted your hand. His fingers were warm and strong.

“Is that a no?” you asked. “You’re okay with going out?”

Yarrow got to his feet and patted your head. The gesture was small, but full of so much affection that your throat constricted a little. He was rarely expressive with his feelings, so you were always startled when he was affectionate. Yarrow smiled serenely at you, then strolled back outside. You stared after him. Apparently, the conversation was over. You’d gotten the impression that he wasn’t bothered, at least. Maybe he just wasn’t a fan of masks. If he really didn’t want to go out, you supposed he would find a way to let you know.

You saw Yarrow less frequently in the few days leading up to All Hallow’s Eve. He showed up for mealtimes and sat with you then, but for the rest of the day, he was outside, doing who knew what. For all you knew, this was normal Fae behavior in fall. You kept an eye on him, but he seemed okay, so you didn’t worry too much about it.

The festival for All Hallow’s Eve started in the afternoon, so you spent the morning pulling together your costume. It wasn’t especially interesting- in fact, it was sort of a rehash of the outfit you’d put on the year before. Most costumes were focused on hiding identity rather than trying to actively look like something else. You’d picked up a simple rodent mask, something that looked equally like a squirrel and a mouse, and wore brown robes with a shabby fur ruff around your neck. It was simplistic, but you hadn’t really put that much effort into your costume that year- your initial plan had been to coordinate with Yarrow, and his disinterest had soured your own desire. In fact, the fur ruff was the only difference between this year and the last one. The mask and robe were the same.

You’d just finished gathering the requisite components and spreading them out when Yarrow abruptly reappeared. He didn’t come in from the outside or step out from another room; you just looked down for a moment and when you looked back up, he was standing there as if he’d been present all along. It had startled you the first few times he’d done it, but living with him, you’d gradually acclimated to it.

“What do you think?” you asked, gesturing to the outfit. “I don’t have anything for you, but you can at least keep your antlers out.”

Yarrow looked down at the costume for a moment, studying intently. He plucked at the fur ruff, then curled his lip. “No?” you asked. Yarrow shook his head and grabbed your hand. He tugged on your arm, pulling you along with him.

“Where are we going?” you asked. He pulled you outside and through the garden. It had wilted a lot in the past few days, dried branches sticking out into the path. Yarrow pulled you past them, into a thicket of bushes. They had grown into a sort of bramble wall, providing a secluded area. Carefully draped over the bushes were two beautiful outfits.

One of them was deep green, with heavy, elegant robes. A faint leaf pattern shimmered on it, only visible under direct sunlight. Little pink and yellow flowers sprouted along the hems. You weren’t sure, but you thought they might be alive. Placed on top of the robe was an elegantly carved mask. It was roughly in the shape of a deer, but there appeared to be real flowers sprouting over the surface in a way that colored and textured it. The entire thing looked ethereal.

“Did you make that?” you asked, your voice hushed with awe. Yarrow nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

Yarrow reached for the second outfit and picked up the second mask. It was done in a similar style, also resembling a deer, but it was a little smaller and rounder. The flowers set on it were pale yellow and orange, sprouting so that they created the illusion of shading. The outfit beneath the mask bore similar elegant robes, but these were made in a deep, burnt orange, with faint lines that looks like tree branches stretching out from the seams. A thick ruff of fur lay under them, a deep and rich brown. It was the softest thing you had ever felt.

Yarrow moved so you were facing him and tilted your chin up. Slowly and carefully, he reached out and placed the mask onto your face. There was no attaching string or hooks, but that didn’t seem to matter. It settled perfectly on your face, contoured to your features.

“You made this for me?” Your voice was quiet and there was a slight catch to it. Yarrow gave a small nod. “It’s beautiful.” Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pulled Yarrow into a hug. He stiffened, but only for a second. Then his arms came in around you and he gave a small squeeze back.

“We should, um, get changed,” you said as you broke away from him. You gathered up your outfit and hurried back to the house. Despite never having taken any measurements (at least, not that you’d ever seen), the outfit was perfectly sized. It was also surprisingly warm. Even without the fur ruff, you felt comfortable.

You’d just slid on the mask when Yarrow returned to the house. The outfit had looked beautiful just sitting on the ground; on Yarrow’s body, it was ethereal. With his face half-hidden by the mask, he looked inhuman, but beautifully so.

“Wow,” you said. “You look amazing.” Yarrow’s lips quirked into a small smile. He reached into his pocket and removed a small looking glass that he held up to you.

For a moment, you couldn’t recognize yourself. There must have been some Fae magic in the mask and clothes, because, under the mask, you could see your skin had taken on a slight glow. The mask looked almost alive on your face. You were almost surprised to see that it didn’t mold to your expressions.

“Thank you,” you said. Yarrow smiled broadly, then took your hand. With a firm insistence, he pulled you toward the door.

The chill barely touched you as you stepped out into the crisp autumn afternoon. The sun had already started to slip downward in the sky, threatening to set. Yarrow slowed his pace as you headed toward the festival, but his hand stayed around yours.

The festival was already in full swing when you arrived. There were banners and decorations draped along the streets and booths were set up all throughout the town. Many of them sold food or drink, some sold little trinkets to keep evil spirits away, and some were peddling some of their crafted items, styled specifically for the festival. There were also a few game booths, areas set up for storytelling, and a few contest stands. You peered at some of the woven bolts of fabric that sat in a contest booth. Yarrow gave you a questioning look.

“Oh, I didn’t want to enter because you helped me. It felt unfair to have Fae magic in it,” you said. Yarrow still looked confused. You had a feeling that an ethics conversation with a Fae wouldn’t go well. “Maybe next year,” you said noncommittally.

“Look at you!” Yarrow flinched as a hand clapped down on his shoulder. “Those are some nice costumes.” Mr. Demark was standing behind you, a broad grin on his face. “Where’d you get those masks? They sure aren’t some of mine.”

“Yarrow made them,” you said.

“Did he now?” Mr. Demark leaned in close. You felt Yarrow’s back stiffen next to you. “It’s impressive. Wouldn’t consider coming to work for me, now would you? You’ve got some talent.”

Yarrow gave a polite smile and bowed slightly. “That a no, then?” Mr. Demark said. “Ah, well. Just don’t go selling them or I’ll be out of business.” He laughed loudly and strolled back off into the festival. Yarrow stared after him for a moment, then started examining the fabric again.

You walked around the festival together for a while. The food there was delectable, and you ended up buying more pumpkin bread than you could comfortably eat. Yarrow declined to eat anything, but he did end up buying some spiced cider. You’d never seen him drunk, and you kept a curious eye on him. After about two and a half mugs, though, he showed no signs of inebriation. Maybe human alcohol just wasn’t potent enough for a Fae. It was a bit disappointing. You’d wondered what he was like drunk.

The sun had set fully at that point, which meant that several campfires had been set up around the town. People sat in loose circles around them, sharing stories. You and Yarrow sat in on a few of them; Yarrow seemed particularly interested in the stories featuring Fae.

“So,” you said as you stepped away from one of the circles close to the edge of town, “any of that true?”

Yarrow shook his head, then paused, considering. He held two fingers a short distance apart. “Only a little bit?” you said. Yarrow nodded. “What bits were true?”

Yarrow thought for a moment, then gave a dramatic hair toss and struck a pose like he was modeling. You dissolved into giggles. “Do you- Do you mean the bit where he said all Fae are really beautiful?” Yarrow nodded furiously, grinning.

“So not the bit where you kidnap babies?” Yarrow shook his head. “Or the bit where you all dance naked in the moonlight to lure humans in?” Even behind his mask, you could see Yarrow’s eyes roll.

You had moved toward the edge of town as you spoke, standing right on the outskirts of the forest. “We should probably get back,” you said. “It’s not-”

Your voice trailed off. There were lights emerging from the gloom of the woods. They looked like overlarge fireflies, except they glowed faintly blue instead of yellow. They left glimmering trails behind them when they moved. It was soothing to watch them, almost hypnotic. You took a step toward them.

Yarrow pulled on your hand, hard. You hadn’t even felt him grab it. You stumbled backward, blinking hard. The hypnotic feeling faded to the back of your head, though you could feel it threatening to rise again. Little lights. Little lights in the forest that compelled people to follow them and then led them astray. “Will-O-the-Wisps,” you said. Yarrow nodded. “I’ve never seen them before.”

Yarrow stepped forward, waving his hand toward the wisps. The coalesced, swarming densely for a moment. Then they vanished back into the forest as suddenly as they’d arrived. You let out a breath. Yarrow stared after them for a moment, then pulled your hand fiercely, pulling you back toward town until you were standing in the warm glow of a fire.

“Are those things common around here?” you asked, just barely keeping a wobble from your voice. “I’ve never seen them.”

Yarrow thought for a moment, then positioned himself so he was standing across from you. Carefully, he drew a line between you in the dirt. “A barrier between us?” you asked. Yarrow made a broad gesture. “Between our worlds?” Yarrow nodded. He gestured at the sky, then at the town around you and scuffed the line away with his foot. “The holiday… makes the barrier vanish?”

Yarrow nodded. A chill crept up your spine. “The veil gets thin. I’ve heard that before,” you said. “Is it dangerous?”

Yarrow shook his head. He clasped your hands in his and you felt a tingle of magic jump through you. His eyes gleamed with inhuman power for a moment. “It makes you stronger too,” you said. Yarrow nodded. He squeezed your hands again. “And you’ll protect me.” Another nod. “Thank you.”

Satisfied with the conversation, Yarrow turned away and began wandering back into town. The festivities were wrapping up in some areas and ramping up in others. Most of the families with children had departed, meaning that certain areas were turning toward debauchery. The stories told were less appropriate for young ears and a few people had stripped, despite the chill. Yarrow looked at them with some interest, but, thankfully, seemed uninterested in joining them.

Several of the fires had gone out and a fire toward the center had been stoked into an enormous blaze. People danced around it while musicians played close to its base. Laughs and whoops of excitement carried across the town.

Yarrow paused and stared across the way at a smaller fire. There were several couples gathered around it. One by one, they stepped forward and held out their clasped hands to a man. He wrapped their hands in a ribbon and murmured words over them, sprinkling a few drops of water from a nearby basin. The couple held their hand over the fire for a moment, just high enough to not get burned, then stepped back with murmurs and bows of thanks.

“That’s a couple ceremony,” you explained. “It’s usually for new couples, for over the winter. There’s an old legend behind it.” Yarrow looked at you curiously. “You want to hear it?” A nod. “Uh, okay.” You sat down on a log next to a fire that was only faintly glowing embers. Yarrow sat with you. He was close enough that your knees were touching.

“Um, I heard this story a long time ago, so it’s not going to be super detailed, but I remember most of it,” you said. “The story goes that there was a couple who lived in a cabin a bit of a ways out of town. They lived far enough away that when the winter snows came, they were unable to get into town.” Your voice dropped into the sort of hushed tones used by storytellers. Yarrow’s eyes were fixed on you face, like he was enraptured. “The couple didn’t think anything of it. They had enough food to outlast the snow, and they had each other, and they thought that would be enough.

“But after a few weeks, with the snow still coming down, an evil spirit was carried in on the cold, northern wind. The spirit lurked in the corners of their home, out of the way of their glowing fires. And slowly, the spirit’s evil intentions crept into the couple.

“Gradually, the couple grew harsher and harsher with each other. They spent much of their time fighting or ignoring each other. And the longer they ignored each other, and the more they fought, the stronger the spirit grew. Soon, the couple was unable to think of anything but their seething hatred for the other. The woman took to sleeping on the floor, in the light of the fire.

“But the fire could not last forever, and the couple was so consumed with their arguing, they ignored the sputtering flames. And the, one night, while the woman slept in its glow, the fire sputtered, leaving her in darkness.

“And the spirit struck.

“Months later, when the snows finally melted, a few people from the town went out to see how the couple was doing. The found the man lying in his bed, his throat slit. Even though it was warm enough to melt the snow, the man was still frozen solid. His wife was never seen again.”

Yarrow had leaned in while you were telling the story. His face was quite close to yours. You leaned back and cleared your throat. “Um. So, that’s the story. The ceremony they’re doing is supposed to drive away evil spirits. It protects you.” Yarrow nodded slowly. His face was expressionless beneath the mask. “So, what do you think? Believe it’s true?”

Yarrow rolled his eyes under the mask and stood up. He offered you a hand, which you took and he tugged you to your feet. He waited a moment for your to straighten your robes, then began pulling you toward the ceremony.

“Woah, hey, hold on.” You tried to dig your feet into the ground, but Yarrow was supernaturally strong. “Are you- you want to participate in the ceremony?” you asked, a little bewildered. Yarrow nodded. “But it’s… for couples. You want to do it with me?”

Yarrow gave you a look and tugged on your hand again. “Okay, okay,” you said. He seemed oddly insistent on it. Maybe he knew something about evil spirits you didn’t? Regardless, it didn’t look like he was just going to give it up anytime soon. You relented and allowed him to pull you over to the ceremony.

Most of the couples had already been blessed, so there wasn’t a long wait before you were called up. The man was wearing a long red and purple robe and he was slightly stooped over with age. He smiled at you as you approached. “Haven’t seen you before,” he said conversationally. “New couple?”

You sputtered a little, but Yarrow just dipped his head and smiled. The man smiled back at you. “Wonderful. Now, I’ll need you to take the masks off for the ceremony.”

You carefully undid your mask and glanced at Yarrow as he did the same. The light of the fire against his skin made something in your chest catch. Your heart fluttered violently against your ribs. With a swallow, you turned back to the man.

“Now, clasp your hands and hold them out.” Yarrow linked your fingers and held your hand you. You felt overly aware of the touch of his fingers on yours.

The man reached out with a length of white ribbon. “This represents your love for each other. It binds you together and holds you fast.” He wrapped it around your hands, tying a loose knot near your thumbs. “The water represents the storms your relationship will weather.” He sprinkled it over your hands. The ribbon shivered a little, but remained wrapped securely around your hands. “The strength of your love will carry you through the tough times. Remember your love, and no spirit can stay your course.” He folded his hands around yours, pressing them together. “I bless you against all evil spirits, I bless you against the forces of hate in this world. This blessing will help to shield you, but only the strength of your care for each other will allow you to weather all the storms.” His hands unfolded from yours and he gave you a smile. Gently, he guided your hands over the fire, just high enough to avoid burning. “With this fire, I drive away the spirits of the cold and dark and hatred. May it burn bright enough to keep you warm throughout the long season.”

With a smooth pull, he freed your hands from the ribbon. It untied in a moment, pulled back into the curve of his fist. Yarrow held onto your hand for a moment longer before slowly untangling your fingers. He gave a small bow to the man and swept away. You murmured a quick thanks, then hurried after him.

He paused, letting you catch up. “You okay?” you asked. Yarrow nodded. He fiddled with the mask in his hands, like he was uncertain if he wanted to put it back on. Without really thinking about it, you linked your arm through his. “Want to go home?”

Yarrow turned his head slightly toward you and smiled. You started down the trail toward your home, arms still linked.

You walked in silence for a little while. “Did you have a good time?” you asked finally. Yarrow blinked at you, like you’d startled him out of thought, then he nodded. He pressed into you for a moment, bumping your sides together. It was warm and affectionate.

“Good. I had a good time too,” you said. You tilted your head back, looking at the mostly full moon. It played off of Yarrow’s hair and antlers, making them almost glow. You had a sudden urge to reach up and stroke his hair, smoothing down the few flyaways. You barely managed to restrain yourself.

You stopped just outside your house, scooping up a few more pieces of firewood to bring inside. Yarrow opened the door, ducking slightly to avoid his antlers scraping on the frame. You carried the wood over the fire and stoked it. The house was still cold, but the costume kept much of it away.

“So,” you said, trying to find something to say, “do you think the ceremony worked?” Yarrow’s face was practically obscured by the shadows, only half-illuminated by moonlight. He looked a little confused. “Uh, for keeping away evil spirits? The hand holding thing?” Yarrow snorted gave you a sarcastic smile. “You don’t think so?”

Yarrow sighed and rolled his eyes. He tapped his chest and pressed a hand to the center of your chest. It took you’re a moment to grasp the meaning. “We don’t need it because you protect me anyway?” you translated. Yarrow smiled and nodded. “Then why were you so insistent on doing the ceremony if it wasn’t going to-”

Yarrow rolled his eyes and pressed his hands to your face. You stumbled to a stop. His thumbs traced your cheekbones for a moment. A shiver crept along your spine. His bright, gleaming eyes were locked on yours. Slowly, one of his hands slipped down to cup your chin. His thumb traced along your lower lip. He was so close, so close you could feel his breath tickling against your face. Warmth was flooding your body and you could feel yourself shaking.

His lips pressed against yours. His lips were warm, and so soft, and they molded to yours. Your hands jumped up to the back of his head, tangling in his hair. His mouth opened against yours, your tongue tracing his lower lip for a moment.

After what was either a few moments, or a long, wonderful eternity, you broke apart. You swallowed hard. “You wanted to do it because you love me?”

A smile curved across Yarrow’s mouth. He nodded once.

“Oh.” You felt your heart flutter, your stomach tighten. “I love you too.”

Yarrow helped you stoke the fire and eased you out of your costume. He allowed you to help with his as well. You found yourself tracing your fingers along his smooth skin. He even allowed you to brush out his hair, sitting quiet and contemplative as you smoothed the brush over his head again and again.

Your bed was cold, as usual when you slipped inside. You shivered, tugging the blankets around you. “Ugh.”

There was the sound of movement from across the room. You looked over to see Yarrow standing in the doorway, thin nightclothes draped over his slender body. He swept across the room to your bed.

“Hey,” you said. “Need something?”

Yarrow lifted up the covers and, before you could really process what he was doing, he was snuggled next to you. He was warm, radiating heat like a furnace. You moved closer to him automatically. His legs tangled with yours and you felt his hands settle around you. He made a quiet noise of contentment in his chest.

Finally warm and overwhelmingly content, you buried your face into his chest and hugged him. One of his hands trailed slowly up and down your back, soothing you into sleep.

#exophilia #Fae #Fae boyfriend #monster boyfriend #fairy #Yarrow #halloween #OCxOC #mXf

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tojakku · 4 years ago

Text

✶ - sugarplums and stardust

pairing: fpopstar! reader x arc trooper fives summary: you, sugarplum, galaxy-wide adored popstar. fives, galaxy-wide renowned idiot. warnings: rated m for mature! this chapter includes: smut (18+), oral (female receiving), dirty talk, implied rough sex, pee pee in v, the beauty of checking up on your partner, mature language... a hot clone trooper, flirtation... alcohol... etc... fives being a little slut

THE BARRACKS ARE ALMOST ENTIRELY QUIET. Almost. The centre of Coruscant never quite escaped from the thrum of late-night traffic, or the sing of the planet throbbing right below their feet, through canals and chambers and pipes of sewers crawling with scrap rats.

Sometimes too much silence wasn’t good for Fives’ brothers. Sometimes it made them more restless, tossing and turning before eventually leaving to the gym, to push weights and punch bags until their tiredness had them collapsing on the mats. It was an uneasy and unpredictable world in the barracks- right where it should be predictable and easy.

The 501st are on shore leave along with a good handful of other battalions, a couple from the Inner Rim, the 13th Battalion from Sullust, even Wolffe and Cody were sticking around somewhere. Fives, although he was meant to be raving and silly and wild, was feeling a little… well, he hadn’t eaten much at dinner.

Something about the last campaign on Bothawui, a second, months after the first, and being soaked through with blood and gunfire, had just dulled him a little. Maybe he just needed sharpening.

He muscles his helmet in his hands, trudging down the main corridor through the barracks. There were separate rooms inside now, the one he shared with the rest of Rex’s squadron far at the end. The lights, although top of the range, working perfectly, were too bright, flickering off the durasteel of the walls, the floors, the ceilings. Fives wrinkles his nose. Too bright.

There’s the slightest shimmer of music, though, and for a brief fleeting moment, Fives is convinced it’s coming from outside, from Coruscant, but when he pushes through into his part of the barracks, his stomping ground, he stops still.

Now, the 501st have always been fans of partying, music, drinks, cantinas, women, but Maker, Fives was not expecting four full-grown men huddled around a datapad, nodding their heads to a silvery voice accompanied by a thrumming beat. He didn’t expect, either, the harsh shushing he receives from an irritated Kix.

The medic holds up a hand and starts rabbiting on to Jesse, perched on his left on the bunk, leaning his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Damn batchmates.

“See? She’s amazing,” Kix mutters, gesturing at the datapad. “She was on the radio the other day, little Tano said something about her and I looked into it.” Fives tosses his helmet on the opposite bunk and takes a peek at what exactly they’re watching.

Oh.

A popstar. Shimmying. Rather precariously.

She’s all clad up in pale, pastel lavender, her cheeks dusted in a thin film of shimmering pink, her mouth painted a matching shade. She’s even got this wild, bright yellow hair. Kix takes a wary glance at Fives before angling the screen a little more.

“Sugarplum.”

“She’s some babe from the Core Worlds, a superstar,” Hardcase supplies, chewing on a bar of some unidentifiable substance with a grin. “Hot,” he comments, when she turns to wink at the camera.

“What is this?” Fives asks, leaning heavily on the bunk. Her shimmering, glittery skin seems to just seep through the datapad with every shift, shimmy and spin.

“She’s doing concerts all over Coruscant in the next few days. Then Corellia, then the other ecumenopoli.” Echo speaks as if it’s common knowledge. Fives scowls at his twin, shoving his shoulder with a hand.

Kix swipes left on the datapad and suddenly a rather risque picture flashes up, Sugarplum’s tongue out, her eyes rolled back. A ripple of chaos from the boys as they try to cover the datapad, and a roar of laughter from Hardcase when the pad goes flying over their heads.

“What the fuck?”

“That is not my datapad, I swear-”

“Yeah, it’s Tup’s!”

“No, no, it’s definitely ‘Case’s.”

Fives snorts, throwing himself onto his bunk, listening, happily, to his brothers bicker.

“Want to bet she wants a piece of clone ass?” A murmur of dissent and discern when Jesse speaks follows- Fives struggles not to burst into a laugh. The cog-faced trooper looks down in embarrassment when he’s knuckled into a headlock. “Come on!”

“Yeah, maybe she does, but we weren’t going to say that!” A pause. “It’s practically gospel truth all of the beautiful ladies want a piece of us.”

The door busts open again, on four troopers in a pile, and Fives, beaming happily away on his bunk. It’s Rex, ole’ Captain, and he looks once at the pile, once at Fives, before moving into the barracks, silent as night- not on Coruscant, silent somewhere else.

Fives wriggles under his Captain’s gaze, uneasy. Sometimes he made him uneasy when he didn’t talk, didn’t even greet them. Sometimes it meant the end of shore leave. Fives swallows, stuffing the panic hard down in his stomach to edge himself along the bunk with a little more formality. Rex catches his gaze.

“You lot looking at Sugarplum again?” There’s an uproar of disagreements, denials and something else, just Jesse relenting with a sigh. Fives stuffs a fist against his mouth, trying to contain his laughter at the four troopers fumbling over each other, even as Rex stares, unimpressed.

“Yeah,” Fives mutters. “They were, but we saw some of Hardcase’s secret bank and they threw the-” A pillow hits him square in the face. “Hey!”

“You guys are bad as cadets,” Rex huffs, laughing softly, bringing his datapad up. He looks more tired than usual, rings under his eyes.

“You tired, Rex?” Kix asks, suddenly fluttering into medic-mode. He touches Rex’s forehead with the back of three fingers and draws an amused sigh from the Captain. Fives watches over the edge of his fist. If something’s wrong with Rex, that means no drinking themselves into inhibition later that night.

“Better not be! We’re out tonight,” Jesse knocks his hand on Rex’s shoulder as he throws himself up from the bunk. “And I’m dreaming of beating Commander Wolffe in a drink-down this time. This time.”

“Don’t you say that every time, vod?” Hardcase levels a gaze back at the now-scowling Jesse.

“What clubs do you think Sugarplum goes to?”

“Those glitzy ones on the upper levels, probably, the ones suspended in the air,” Rex joins in then, making weird shapes with his hands. “You’ve seen.” A moment of silence. “Okay, well, the General told me they sell sunfruit liquors there for five credits a shot.”

“Is it supposed to be better than the shit they sell us at 79’s?”

“Who fucking knows.”

“The General, apparently-”

“Kenobi was the one who told him.”

Another round of laughs. Fives sighs, smiling, before wrestling Echo into a headlock.

“Ready to get out-drunk tonight, brother?” A shove, a scoff, then a grin. “You better be. You owe me three drink runs.”

“Three?”

“Three, vod, three. For the last time I saved you.” Echo shakes his head, pushing a hand through his dark hair- same as them all, deep down. “Three.”

“Two.”

Fives laughs, bumping forearms with his brother. Echo knocks his temple against Fives’ and a moment of softness breaks the twins’ bickering.

“Fine, two.”

Fives never could refuse his batchmate.

You weren’t, and never will be, completely keen on Coruscant. Too much… difference. No, it’s not that, it’s just the deep tunnels into the ground and the rumours you hear sometimes, through your girls, through… well, anywhere.

‘Disease grows twofold as the lower levels of Coruscant are ignored for a Senate sickness’, or ‘The lower levels of Coruscant- most dangerous place in the galaxy?’. No, of course not. There’s police, you stupid news writer.

You pick idly at your nails, smoothing your thumbs over each metallic-blue painted tip to soothe your nerves.

Eva and Lirisa had planned for a club outing tonight. The concert earlier had gone perfectly fine, just amazing, really. Everything was on point, the dancing, the singing, the backup vocals, the crowd… it still tingles on your skin like a second skin. The thrill would never hit any different.

You’re hidden away in your dressing room back in your apartment, slumped over a chair like a swooning lady. Lirisa is fixing her hair around her three little head horns, a bright, vivid purple like her skin, frowning in the mirror over your shoulder. She catches your gaze after a moment, face folding into concern.

You stretch out in the plum velvet chair, legs in fluffy slippers spreading when she gets that look. That look meant questions.

“Why are you so down?” You frown, shaking your head, returning your gaze to the datapad in your hands. A news article about you paints the screen. Lirisa looks down, once, twice, realises, and snatches your chin away from it. “Stop reading it if it’s bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s good.” She pouts, letting you go with a soft pat to the shoulder. You shuffle uncomfortably in your feather-trimmed robe, the sheer material not offering much of a comfort in the face of a wide-open balcony window a few paces away.

Eva appears seconds later, looking plump and perfect in her eye-snatching candyfloss pink minidress, feet hidden in peculiar fur-cuffed ankle boots. She shifts, eyes ducking against the ground, her tattoos across her nose, little black diamonds against pale green skin, vivid and stark.

“Oh, wow!” You exclaim, turning the spinning chair with a free hand. Lirisa squeals, rushing forward to tug at the hem of the dress, pulling the daring v-neck even lower. Eva hisses, batting away her friend’s hands.

“Don’t pull it down that far!”

“I wasn’t!”

A giggle and a sigh, then attention flickers back towards you. Your gut drops when they rush forwards, springing upon your wardrobe like it was their job- well, it was, but that doesn’t matter. There’s two options for dresses and you’ve already made your decision. A deep blue second skin, a dress that shimmered like a starlit night under the right light. The front was a simple scooped neck, low enough that your cleavage could make a gasp for breath, but not low enough you’d be recognised for a sleaze. The back is a square of sheer material until your hips, a little more than daring, a little less than risque, perfect for a night of dancing and drinking.

There were even little silver stilettos in the corner.

“No one will recognise me in blue, so stop trying to find other dresses,” you chide. “I’ve already made my decision.” A pout from Lirisa doesn’t move your hard-as-steel expression. Sometimes the Theelin girl had the ability to actually change your mind, but now, you sit there, waiting patiently for her to stop sulking. “Are we still going to that… um, that bar?”

“‘That bar’,” Eva mocks, turning you sharply to the mirror to start fiddling with your hair. It rests, untouched, until she starts pulling it up. “The clone bar.”

“Are we even going to be allowed in?” Eva nods, twisting a coil of hair around her finger. It’s not the same electric yellow it was on stage- the wig was long gone. “Who have you bribed this time?” You grin, glancing at her in the mirror. She shakes her head, disgusted at the pure suggestion of bribery.

(Wouldn’t be the first time she had… well, Eva had once tried to bribe a club bouncer with a tray of meiloorun fruit.)

“I heard from a reliable source in the GAR offices that a whole bunch of sexy, all-too-willing clones are on shore leave.” You sigh, tugging on a forlorn strand of hair. Eva grabs your shoulder, firmly. “Don’t pull, your hair is almost done.”

“Shouldn’t I get my dress on first?”

“You’ll only spill blumfruit juice on it.” You scowl. “And we’re leaving in twenty minutes, standard. I already called a speeder for us.”

“No paps?”

“No paps.” A pat on your shoulder and you relax. “Anyway, we’re going to have fun tonight!” Lirisa moves around in the background, now clad head to toe in what looks like skin-tight purple leather. She smiles, fondly, smoothing down a crease at her hip. The neckline plunges low below her sternum, but she acts as if she’s wearing Jedi robes with a swish and a sashay. You redirect your eyes when you get a rather tasteful flash of sideboob. “Looking good, Liri.”

“Thank you!”

“Is it a new suit?” A pause, a shrug. “Is it from my wardrobe?” You ask, eyebrow cocked in question. She nods, coyly smiling. “Fair enough.”

“Huh! If I took that you’d scream at me.”

“No, because I’d never confidently display so much sideboob at a club, Eva,” you mutter. Eva ponders it for a moment, but agrees, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Well, let’s just get to the club first, then we’ll decide how much ‘sideboob’ you’ll display after a few drinks.”

If there was one thing Eva was right about, it was the abundancy of rather good-looking men in the same place. Getting in had been easy- just flutter your lashes at the Coruscant guard on the door, he’d step aside and let you straight in with promises of a kiss later.

Inside was beautiful, purple and blue lights swinging low from a long-greyed ceiling, huge yellow holograms with all manner of languages on them- news, nunaball, flashes of the GAR-droids, the ones that present it. Then, even a flicker of your own face. A familiar beat begins thrumming ten steps into the bar.

Eva barks a laugh, hooking her pale green arm through yours, tugging you closer towards the bartender. She starts ordering shots in a rapid call, smiling politely at the droid behind it. You lean an elbow on the bright, turquoise counter, relishing in the sultry high notes of one of your latest tunes. Lirisa throws her arms around your waist, humming softly.

“Three.” Eva holds up her fingers. “Thank you.”

You flex your hands under the glow of a green-yellow menu. It’s fascinating, being suspended in a place like this and being able to take your eyes off the crowd for just a moment without being scared of being hustled. Eva touches your shoulder momentarily, her usual gesture of reassurance.

Your gaze slips from the bar- it’s fascinating, yes, but more fascinating are the similar faces flashing around you. Each one the same, but slightly different. Silver hair, shaved head, tattooed, long hair, dark hair, pale hair, wider smile, careful gaze. You wet your lips and catch the gaze of a trooper a few seats down.

He’s broad, like the rest of his brothers, but something else settles about him like a halo. Dominance, confidence. He’s got one cybernetic eye, too, but the gruffness of his expression as he moves from his seat has your eyes fixated.

Suddenly, you catch another gaze of another set of troopers some ways away.

Huddled in a booth, an entire squad is staring right at you. With a startled huff, you cross your legs, tugging gently on Lirisa’s leather sleeve.

“I think I’ve been made.”

“Where?” She looks over your shoulder, brown eyes searching against the near-darkness of the club. She raises an eyebrow, slowly. “Oh. Just troopers, it’s okay. They won’t bother you.” You frown, interlocking your fingers and moving, slowly, to lean awkwardly against the counter. Their gazes reside on your back, sticky like syrup, until someone speaks roughly at your side.

“You’re not a clone.”

You turn, matching the gaze of the gruff man from before. A glance over his armour tells you nothing- great. He’s patched in a pale, unforgiving black, and he moves, tilting his body to rest on the countertop.

“No,” you murmur. “I suppose I’m not.” Your fingers go immediately to your necklace, a thin chain of silver studded with transparent stones, to tug. It’s a habit. The trooper looks at you for a long moment, dark eye and silver eye roving until he smiles, a little. Something tells you smiling isn’t normally what he’s used to. “Is that a good thing?” A look through your lashes and a splutter of drink from Eva over your shoulder has you struggling to hold in a laugh.

The man’s eyes flit to the screens, then back to you.

“Is that you?” You purse your lips, glancing at the hologram. “Nice.” Nothing else is added before he prepositions: “Want to dance?”

It’s only a moment after he offers his name, ‘Wolffe’, that you agree, letting him lead you to a writhing pack of men, clones and civvies, a few girls of all species. Your fingers thread through his and with a giggle, you sit your drink- a sunfruit cocktail- now finished, on an empty table. A rivulet of excitement ripples through your stomach when he tugs you firmly to his chest, roving a strong-fingered hand over the small of your back.

He asks a soft ‘this okay?’, but you’re too far flushed with music and finally, relaxation. You throw your arms around his neck and sway to the upbeat bass. A few more moments and your head drops back with a soft sigh, Wolffe’s fingers catching against the thin seam where the sheer material turns back into oil-slick silken fabric. Your breath hitches.

“Never did get your name,” he huffs, nose brushing yours. You sigh, smiling politely.

“They call me Sugarplum,” you murmur, letting his hands on your hips move you a little more vigorously to the disco-beat. Wolffe grins, wolfish, before flipping you around, a hand flattening against your stomach.

The music continues, and you continue to let Wolffe roam his hands along your midriff until he’s heaving heavy breaths in your ear and becoming slowly less dancer-like. You had to admit, the clones seemed like they were lithe bands of silk ready to snap, but you were dying for a drink.

When the song starts to pulse out in favour of a quicker, sharper tone, you slide your hands against his and softly remove them.

“I need a drink,” you shout over the music. He swipes a hand over his sweat-stricken hair and nods, dropping himself into a booth. “Thanks for the dance.” You brush your lips against his cheek and dart through the crowd, desperately searching for a flicker of pink, or purple. Luckily, Lirisa’s still at the bar, pressed against it by someone in red armour, perhaps, but there nevertheless, and smiling, sober. “Liri and… friend.”

“This is Thire,” she calls, patting his hand. “Coruscant Guard.”

“Fancy.” You stare at him for a moment, trying to decide on his intentions when he gives the brightest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. You feel your cheeks rush with heat. “Nice to meet you.”

“Plum,” Lirisa mutters. “How was your dance?”

“Oh, fine… you know me…”

“What, a prude?”

“No!” You bat her arm with a hiss. “Picky.” You flag down for another drink, dumping a pile of credits on the counter. Thire’s brows skyrocket, his face a portrait of shock when the droid picks through and takes only what’s needed. “Oh, I don’t know the prices…”

“That’s a lotta’ credits.”

Lirisa tilts his chin with one long, lavender finger and captures his mouth, eyes settling on you with a meaningful look. You swipe the credits up, dumping them back in the little silver shoulder bag she’s got on the counter. Oops.

You hear yourself in the speakers again.

“Huh. Whoever’s DJ-ing has nice taste.” Lirisa pulls away from Thire after a long moment, her lipstick a little smudged, but with a warm smile, Thire swipes it back into place. “Thank you, baby doll.” Thire darkens. “I’ve always liked ‘Popgloss’.”

“It’s not my best,” you murmur, eyes fluttering with shyness.

“This is you?” Thire asks, gesturing at the screen. You look at yourself, bearing a bright, fluorescent blue wig and matching lipstick. “That’s you?” He huffs a laugh of surprise. “Nice lipstick.”

“Thank her,” you reply, jabbing a thumb in the Theelin’s direction.

The droid slides a new drink over. You frown, staring at it. The glass is literally glowing, a white-ish liquid simmering inside.

“Courtesy of the 501st, ma’am.” The droid trundles away and you stare at the bright blue liquid with a smile.

“Boys in blue, huh?” Thire looks at the drink, then back at Liri with hooded eyes. “That looks like a mist-cocktail.” He turns, glancing over his shoulder towards where you’d seen the table staring at you. You follow his gaze, but only a few troopers remain. One of them raises a hand in a two-fingered salute, though. You smile coyly, waving in return.

With a careful touch, you raise the glass to your mouth and take a sip. It’s warm, warm down to your toes, and tastes amazing.

“Tastes great,” you say, a little surprised. “I should go thank them.”

“No, you should leave them waiting, maybe they’ll come up to you!” You scowl, shaking your head. Another sip of your drink and you turn, walking swiftly towards the table where only three troopers remain out of what was a lot more. One with long hair, another with lines tattooed down his face, grinning roguishly, and the last with a buzzed, blonde cut.

“Um, I just wanted to say thank you for the drink.” You fiddle with the draw, lashes fluttering of their own command. All three troopers are staring, two at your face, and the other quite firmly at your legs. “And, well… thank you for fighting. Your service,” you murmur, suddenly taken aback with shyness. Come on, superstar personality! Make your appearance.

The blonde grins.

“You’re welcome. On both counts.” His demeanour is remarkably similar to that of the Wolffe from earlier. Perhaps a Commander. “We’re quite enjoying your music tonight.” You chew idly on a thumb, smiling bashfully. “And we enjoyed Wolffe’s poor attempt at dancing.”

“Oh!” You snort. “He wasn’t that bad!” Eyes follow your hips as they turn, swaying back and forth as you try to plant yourself firmly and more confidently at one side of the round table. “Um, well, thank you anyway.”

“Thank you, Sugarplum.”

You make a wild getaway before you can embarrass yourself further or faint in the lap of the blonde, who was staring a little too sharply for your taste. The music seems to pulse louder with every step you get back to Lirisa, who is now firmly shoved against the counter and smothered by Thire’s mouth. Eva is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Eva?”

“She ran off with a Twi’lek lady.”

You smile, huffing a chuckle of disbelief, leaning forwards to finish your drink in two more sips, when slowly, you notice a presence approaching you from the side.

Hands, well-defined, lined with veins and a few here-and-there scars, draw your attention like an industrial magnet. His skin is bronze, a dark, deep gold, like his brothers, but he plants his weight on the bar and clears his throat softly before speaking.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, dark. You swallow, hard, turning your head. He’s quite a face. He’s got quite a face- sorry, he’s… got quite a face. Right below his hairline, there’s a little ‘5’ tattoo, nestled there, inked in night-black. You take another sip of your drink for courage.

Alone, it’s easier.

“Hello.” Your voice is a little uneasy, but the trooper smiles, his eyes shining with politeness. Your eyes flutter shut when another one of your songs bursts through the speakers, but the trooper’s grin only grows.

“I’m not boring you, am I?”

“No! No, sorry, I’m just… I don’t know.” His smile softens at the corners, less devilish, and he shifts his weight, spine arching with the movement. You let your gaze flicker along his lithe body, contained in blue-stained armour. ‘Boys in blue’, Thire had said. “Oh! You sent me the drink… it’s delicious.”

“Yeah? One of my favourites.” He moves a hand back through his dark hair, eyes ducking for a brief second, before meeting yours once more. You feel your chest swoop and you smile, wide, wider than usual. “Fives.” He offers a hand, a handshake, and you accept it, only for him to flip your wrist. His lips ghost your knuckles. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You can call me Plums,” you supply. “That’s what all my friends call me.”

“Friends?” A coy, cocked brow. Your chest flutters and you nod, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. You’ve probably got dark lipstick all over your teeth by this point, but the way Fives poses the question has you suddenly not-so-bothered. Lirisa’s knuckles jabs your spine twice, a signal. You’re pretty much alone now. She’d bring Thire back to her apartment, two floors under yours, and Eva was wherever that Twi’lek took her. “We like your music in the barracks.”

“Oh? Thank you,” you murmur, gazing into the bottom of your glass. “I wish you could all come to one of my concerts, that’s the only place I sound good sometimes. My studio stuff is a little-”

He suddenly tilts your chin with the knuckle of his finger, still grinning brightly.

“Don’t want to lose my beautiful view.” You chew helplessly on your lip, chest releasing a sort-of sigh, more like a swooning hum. “And I like both. All of it. The boys were playing a couple clips of your concert today.”

“Really?” You fiddle with the stem of your glass, not letting your eyes drop from his face, chiselled and kind, warm.

“Yeah. I like the pink, but if I’m honest, I like this blue on you even better.” He taps your lower arm, where the sleeve ends at your wrist. “We’re matching, see?” He gestures at his blue-painted armour. You suddenly smile, nerves dissipating.

“Seems like we are.” A smile shared, and Fives shifts forwards. His fingers skim your waist as he signals the droid for another drink. “You want me drunk or something?”

“How many have you had?”

“I can handle another. For you.” He raises a brow, eyes suddenly narrowing with a wild grin. “I suppose.” You rest a hand against his chestplate and he huffs a noise of near-surprise, before taking your fingers in his. He brushes his mouth against them and thanks the droid when he appears with another mist-cocktail, no, two. “What are these even made from?”

“Good question,” he murmurs, taking a long sip of his. You stare at him, unabashedly, for a moment, watching the light flicker through his long lashes, then the twitch of his mouth when he realises you’re staring. “Something you like?”

“You have the most beautiful profile I’ve ever seen,” you gush, turning his head with the tips of your fingers, smiling. His breath comes out in a slow whirl when you slide a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. “Like a statue. One of those ones on Naboo in the big fancy halls.”

“You callin’ me handsome?”

“I’m calling you more than that.”

He takes another long drink of his cocktail and you follow, letting it warm your stomach. You glance at his blue armour, touching the lines of his arm.

“Boys in blue?”

“501st Legion.” He bows his head. “At your service, I’m certain. In fact, half the GAR will probably fall at your feet, princess.” You smile, sheepish. “Don’t be so unsure of yourself,” he murmurs, touching a curl of fallen hair at your temple.

“Who said I was unsure? Maybe I’m just faltering in the sheer radiance of your beauty.” Fives laughs, a low rumble in his chest, finishing his drink in one swallow. “501st… are you a Commander?”

He shakes his head with a smile.

“ARC-trooper. Advanced Recon Commando.”

“Oh? So… elite of the elite?” Fives’ eyes flutter, sliding over your features in one long, languid sweep. “Am I stroking your ego?”

“I’d much rather you stroke something else.”

You hum, head turning. You want to pretend the crude line has made you suddenly disgusted, but when he fastens a hand around your waist, you’d rather fall into him, onto him, onto him. He radiates energy.

“Can you kiss me now?”

His eyes widen, at least a little, and he smiles, eyes lidded, gaze smokier than a Sullust sunrise.

“Can I kiss you? That can be arranged.”

Fives leans, capturing your lips in a soft, chaste kiss. He tastes of cocktails and fruit and something else sharper, darker, but you don’t care. It’s suddenly rather hard to care as he brushes a thumb along your ribs and leans you back further. Your chest hisses a content sigh when he tilts your chin, pulls back, then takes your mouth a little harder.

He’s soft as silk for a soldier with calloused hands, his touch careful, hesitant until you moan quietly into his mouth and he touches his tongue against the seam of your lips. You let your jaw open, and he slides his tongue along your teeth, grins, then groans when your hips cant into his.

“Fives, do you want… do you want to come to my apartment?” He huffs, almost as if he can’t believe his luck, mouth shining with moisture. His head dips, claiming your lips once more like he’s got unfinished business there.

His thumbs ripple over the creases in the dress at your hips, his index, middle, ring finger pressing into your ass, pulling you closer. He knows how to work himself, that’s for sure. You shudder, one hand threading into his hair, the other fastening firmly around his bicep like a vice. He slides his tongue into your mouth and sucks at your bottom lip with a chuckle. You muffle a choked whine, desire suddenly starting to yap at the gates like a feral beast.

“Yeah…” he replies, finally, eyes fluttering to kiss you again, twice, three times.

There’s gazes on you from the boys in the booth, you know, you feel them, but you don’t take a chance at them until you can lean back for a cool breath of fresh air. They all sit there, slack-jawed, wide eyed.

“Your friends are looking at us,” you murmur, fingers digging into his upper arm.

“Let them look. They’re not the ones getting an eyeful of this masterpiece up close,” he hums, nosing along your jaw. “You should be painted.”

“Is that what you say to all the girls?”

“What do you want to hear?”

“The truth.”

“You’re the first one it’s true for.” You feel your heart thrum a little quicker, his fingers pressing hard into your ass, then relaxing. “You wanna call a cab?”

“Yeah. Yeah, come on,” you murmur. You’re more out of breath than you’d like to admit- than your ego would like to admit. Fives steals another cool kiss in the entrance to the club, greeting a few of his brothers in a language you don’t understand, before ushering you in his warm, huge hands, to the cab drop-off. His arms suddenly hook around your waist and you sigh, softly, contently.

After dialling in the address to your apartment, the cab takes only another long two minutes to show up, of which consists mainly of Fives drawing his tongue in teasing circles on your neck, and hot, heavy touches along your ribcage.

You step into the cab first, smiling politely to the driver, only to be pinned to the seat by a suddenly ravenous Fives. He pulls you up, over, onto his lap and keeps you there with a hand on your thigh.

“What do you want from me?” He asks, voice low, rough. “I want to be sure you want this.” A finger gestured between your chests and you laugh, threading your fingers through his hair. “What’re you laughin’ at?”

“How could it be possible anyone wouldn’t want you, Fives?” You tug gently at his roots, smoothing kisses on both of his cheeks with a coy smile.

“You haven’t met my brothers,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “They don’t want even to bet on me when we spar.” You sigh, stretching. “Do you normally do this?”

“Do what?” You ask, certain your eyes are probably blared with lust and something more primal, more dangerous. Fives smothers his face in your throat, nipping gently at your pulse, breath more of a growl now. “Invite handsome men back to my apartment? You should ask my friends.”

“The Theelin and the Mirialan?” You nod.

“They think I’m quite picky, so nine out of ten nights end with me alone, eating ice cream and watching limmie.” Fives laughs, stroking a thumb over the crease of your knee. “So, you’re lucky.”

“Oh, yeah,” he growls, thumbing at your bottom lip with a grin. You take the digit into your mouth with a hum. “I’ve hit the jackpot.”

The cab stutters up to the dock at the very bottom of the apartment block, and it takes Fives a moment to stare up at the towering building before you can pay the driver and usher him into the doors. Islair, the Nikto receptionist, raises his hand in a polite wave, before doing a double take at the trooper on your arm. He still smiles, though, when you step into the lift.

“You aren’t afraid of heights?” You ask, when Fives leans against the metal bar on the opposite side of the half-glass lift. It slides smoothly through the building, leaving Coruscant more and more distant with every floor climbed.

“No.”

“Good. We’re going to the fiftieth floor.” You smile, fluttering your lashes, crooking your finger towards him. He crosses the lift, boots thudding against red carpet beneath your heeled feet, before shoving you roughly against the wall. His lips break your resolve as soon as he presses them against yours, tongue sliding through into your mouth with a hard groan. He shifts his hips against yours and hooks your wrists beside your head.

“You… we have to make sure there are boundaries.”

“You’d be surprised how much I can take, Fives.” He huffs, a low, gasp of a breath, fingers running up, below your dress. “How much can you give?”

“You’re really riling me up, princess,” he whispers, voice sharp. “How long till your floor?” You glance at the numbers, ticking up through thirty.

“Not long, handsome,” you murmur, sliding the tips of your fingers down his stomach, along his codpiece, until he groans, planting two hands hard on either side of you He could almost bend the metal. “Relax.”

“Tell me to relax while you’re doing that?” He grumbles, smothering you in another rushed kiss when the lift pings, and the doors open. In one graceful swoop, he hauls you into his arms and waits for you to flick out your apartment key. You rustle through the black, studded purse in your hands and quickly draw it out, a shimmery, pearlescent card.

“Apartment Three,” you whisper. Fives hurries along the carpeted hall, lowering you to your feet in front of a rather decadent black door, watching as you flick your card over the scanner. A soft, delirious scent of vanilla hits him right in the face when it opens, and he lets you tug him inside.

There’s a moment of silence.

“So, this is my apartment,” you mumble, feeling his presence creeping behind you. His hands snake around your middle, to the hem of your dress and up once more. He takes his time, like he’s standing in front of a painting at a gallery, pushing himself along your spine. You arch your back, sighing softly when he cups your breasts in his hands and kisses your throat, once, twice. “You don’t care…”

“Nice place.” Is all he manages, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, hardened against the silk of your underwear, underneath your dress, but he knows- he grins, smoothing his hands down your sides. “Do you want me?”

“Yes.” You turn, fiddling with the latches of his armour pieces, kneeling on the cool wood of the ground. His throats jumps, but you ignore it, finely, too, as you release the rest of his white and blue protection onto the floor. “There. All done.”

“Uh, uh,” he calls, wrapping a hand around your wrist when you try to escape. Your breath hitches. Your back hits against his chest. “Your turn, princess.” His fingers play with the hem of your dress, spreading out along the warmth of your thighs.

“Zip.” He leans back, moving a hand to slowly drag the zip along your spine.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder, your throat. “Beautiful girl.” You exhale, sharply, shifting the dress from your arms with a wriggle. “Fuckin’ Maker,” he huffs, reaching forrwards to skim his thumbs over your bare skin. You’re suddenly quite happy you wore the black, slightly sexy underwear rather than the black, completely mismatched pair you were rushing for a few hours earlier.

“You like it?”

“Who were you planning to snag at the club? Wolffe wouldn’t have lasted five minutes with you. He’s hard on the outside, soft on the inside.” Fives smooths the pads of his thumbs across your breasts, nipples hardened in the cups of your bra, before lowering his mouth to the crevice between them. He runs his tongue, slowly, carefully, along the cool silk of your skin. “Fox, maybe. No… no, he’d finish and kick you out. Rex? My Captain? My brother?” You gasp, cupping his face between your hands. “No. Too soft. Too slow.”

“What are you trying to say, Fives?”

“That I’m the brother for you.” You giggle, throwing your arms around his neck. “I promise, I promise from the bottom of my heart… I am the clone for you.” He offers a goofy smile.

“I trust you, Fives,” you whisper, brushing his nose with yours. “Do you still want to try it, though?” You stroke a finger down the nape of his neck. “Figure out whether I’m the woman for you?” He tucks an arm below your hips and hauls you up, up into the air.

“I already know.”

“You don’t even know my favourite colour… my favourite flavour of ice cream, my favourite meal!”

“All in good time. For now,” he busts open a door at random. “Good choice.” It’s the bedroom. A wide bed, perfect for ignoring alarms, and what seems to be, to Fives, a good throwing range. He tosses you onto the mattress, and you bounce, just a little, watching him from the head of the bed. “Comfortable, too.”

“Come here,” you call, springing onto your knees. Fives reaches over his head and tugs in one mighty pull, his shirt off. You swallow, dry-mouthed, when he displays deep bronze skin, six lines of ridged muscle, broad arms, broader shoulders. His grin grows.

“You like what you-”

“Yes.” You hook an arm around his neck and pull him back onto the bed, hauling him below you. Bare skin against bare skin, you tremble with every hot, silky-smooth touch he ghosts up your legs, over your knees, along the curve of your spine. You shift your hips against him, pressing purposely along the velvet length hidden in his blacks. Your fingers splay against his chest, sliding along his stomach, into the waistband of his trousers.

A husky gasp and a growl when your fingertips fuss through the downy triangle of hair at the very centre of those defined lines of muscle, a perfect V. He thrusts his hips up, planting himself at an angle on his elbows. You grin, wrapping a hand around his cock.

It’s broad, long, big enough to make you wince, and hot to the touch. You sweep a thumb over the tip, wetness pooling there somewhere, a drop, more than that, a rivulet running along the underside of the head.

“Fuckin’ hell.” You smile, capturing Fives in a hard, rough kiss. His teeth clack against yours, but he doesn’t care, all he seems to care about is keeping that pressure on his dick and keeping you right there, beside him. “Oh, Maker.”

“That feel good, soldier?”

“Pull rank on me and I’ll cum in your hand right now.” He grins. You sigh, tapping your chin with your free hand.

“What comes next, I wonder?” Fives growls, tossing you on your back in one hard motion. He kicks off his pants, exposing bulking, heavy thighs corded with muscle and a long, thick cock. You grin, going to crawl forwards, but Fives presses you to the bed with a hand.

“No, no. Just stay there.” His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties. They’re lace and silk, elegant, and he tugs them down, slowly. “You’re beautiful.” You feel your body flush, Fives’ breath quickening against your stomach, your knees, the apex of your thighs, before he presses his mouth into your heat.

“Oh, Gods, give a little warning next time-” He squeezes the skin of your right thigh with a sigh, running his tongue up the liquid warmth between your legs, between your folds, along the petal-pink flesh, wet with desire. “Fives.”

“You’re sweeter than sugar, princess. Sweeter than anything.” He taps your hips and pins them into the bed, nose brushing your clit with dangerous precision. “So pretty, soft.” His tongue thrusts into you, gathering your slickness in one long motion. He moves his fingers slowly, carefully, along your skin, rubbing one against your entrance in a wolfish, evil way.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Hm?” Fives croons, biting softly at the skin of your thigh. “You say something?” He hums, licking his lips before shoving his face back between your legs. With the quick shift of his head, his finger eases into you, slowly, carefully. You groan, pushing your hand through his hair. His tongue is teasing at your clit, his finger shifting delicately inside you, slower than anything, but electrifyingly so.

“Fives, you tease,” you groan, eyes screwed shut. “Stop playing around.”

“You’re asking me to stop playing around?” He adds a second finger, stretching you to the knuckle. You hiss, a hand latching around his upper bicep like a vice. Fives grins. He pecks you twice on the hipbone, then returns his attention to between your legs. “I’m quite enjoying playing around.”

“You’re being a tease. I’d much rather give you attention- ah, fuck, fuck- too. Please,” you hiss, eyes shuddering back as he coaxes the oncomings of an orgasm out of you. A grin against your skin- you feel it. His teeth graze your skin, then his mouth latches onto you once more. Liquid heat burns through your gut, coiling you tight. “I’m going to…”

“Yes, pretty girl, give it to me.” He flicks his tongue over your clit. “Give it to me, Sugarplum. You got it, baby.”

You choke on a moan as your orgasm snatches you away. It’s a thrumming feeling, a wheeze that escapes through your lungs and burns you hot inside out. A grin spreads onto your face, your skin is vibrating, shivering under the still-relentless touch of Fives between your legs. He eases up onto the bed, then, smoothing your breasts into his hands.

“Perfect tits,” he whispers.

“How do you want me?” You ask, breathless, eyes still spotty-white from the blinding climax rushing between your legs, rendering you twitching, shaking.

“Get on your back for me?” He asks, pinching a nipple between two deft fingers. You keen, shuffling beneath him. Your hand snakes between his leg and slowly strokes his cock, carefully, quietly. Fives groans, capturing your mouth with his. A moan is lost into his tongue, wetting your lips then moving against them once more. He’s a battering ram- no mercy, a perfect soldier.

“Fucking hell, Fives,” you whisper, raking nails over his scalp. He moans. You feel your stomach drop to your feet. “You like that?” He nods, parting your legs with two rough, callused hands. Your fingers pull hard at his hair and he whines, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, sliding his hand between your legs once more. He plays with your clit, your hand around his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he rasps, nipping at your bottom lip. You let go of him, reaching up to slide your arms along the hot, hard planes of his back. Fives stares at you, just for a moment, eyes dark like smoke, before he grips himself and pushes against you. “Slow?”

“Whatever you want,” you whisper, mouth cracking open when he impales you carefully in one liquid thrust. “Oh, shit. Now is probably a good time to tell you I’m on suppressors.” Fives tries to speak, but his words are lost in a broken groan into the hot crook of your neck. Your nails push crescent moons into his shoulders, letting him stretch you carefully along his generous length. “Are you all your brothers… this big?”

Fives huffs a laugh, nose brushing your pulse.

“Weird question.”

“Yeah,” you gasp, fanning your face with a hand. “Yeah, you’re right.” You stifle a moan between your fingers, eyes ducking back into your head. “Fuck, fuck, Fives, just a little quicker.”

“Quicker?” His hips snap against yours with a sharpness you haven’t felt before. Your chest drops out, but he continues, thumbs digging into your hips when he tilts you upwards, finding the best angle. His fingers slide beneath the small of your back to suspend you there, perfect for his ruin, when he brushes his mouth over your nipple and ruts firmly into you. “That, ah- that better?”

“Hm, yeah, yes.” You slide a hand into the hair at the back of his head, eyes fluttering shut, mouth slipping open with every thrust of his hips, every shift of his cock inside you. “Yeah, baby, that’s better.” You scratch gentle nails over his back, admiring his warmth, before tugging carefully at his hair. He groans, pinning you into the bed.

Your eyes slide shut. Stars begin to speck behind them and you think he knows by the breathless laugh against your throat, then the broken moan into your jaw, your mouth. He tongues your mouth gently, bruising your lips swollen with the fervent touches.

“Fives-”

“Ah, yeah?”

“Touch me, just a little more,” you plead, nose brushes his as he pecks you once more, thumbing your right nipple, then finding your clit beneath a rough finger. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You like that, pretty girl?” He huffs, dragging his tongue along your throat. “Yeah?”

“Yes! Gods, yes, please!” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against your chest. Fives’ eyes disappear beneath his eyelids, his chest rumbling with soft, persistent groans every other thrust. You whine, pulling at his hair, scratching at his back.

“You’re a little… fuckin’... ah, keep pullin’.” You giggle, threading your fingers through his hair, kissing him twice on the mouth, once on the jaw, angling his head as you see fit. “Yeah, baby, that’s right. Tight little pussy.”

He squeezes your waist with one hand, still flicking at your clit with the other hand, desperate to chase your orgasm out of you, and it works, he gives you one in moments. You stiffen, back arching, fisting a hand in the sheets, the other smoothing over his neck. Your moan echoes in your bedroom, and Fives eggs you on with gentle praise.

“Good girl, yeah, keep… fuck,” he wheezes, hiding his face in your shoulder. His arms are so tight. “Can I move you?”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” you whisper, letting him shift you into a lower position, where he impales you so suddenly your breath hitches and you shriek, turning into a whimpering mess. “Oh, that’s so good!”

“That’s good?” He breaths, pupils almost completely lost in black-brown irises.

“Yes, Fives, it’s good,” you whisper, smothering your mouth against his with a giggle, a grin, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He grunts, releasing your clit to roll a nipple between finger and thumb. You hiss sharply against him, forcing your heels into his back to push him deeper, harder. “Harder, baby, please.”

He quickens his pace, the bed shaking a little under his force.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Sweet angel,” he reaffirms. “Heaven sent.” His fingers wrap around your free wrist, pinning it against the silken sheets below your head. Your back arches with the pressure, a grin spreading along your face. “Fuckin’ hell, I’m gonna cum.”

You hiss when he touches your clit, so eager, so painlessly prepared to give you what you want- another orgasm, more pleasure, anything. He coaxes it out of you, another climax, relishing in your writhing against him, your low whine in his ear, the shiver that follows, the sweat that slicks him head to toe.

“Fuck!” You cry, shuddering back into the sheets.

Fives’ hips falter, his eyes scrunching shut, his groans lower, deeper, until you wind a hand into his hair and kiss him once more, and his thrusts pause.

“Inside?”

“Yeah.”

He finishes, coating you with one hard grunt, a sharp sigh, his eyes finally opening to find yours, a grin eventually appearing on his tired features. You let him fill you, for a moment more, before he pulls away a little.

“Sorry,” he whispers, pulling out. You huff at the cool touch of air against the wetness sinking deep into your skin, and watch him do a quick double-take around the room for the bathroom. With a snort, you point at the door on the left. He punches the release and wanders in, clattering around.

“Under the sink, baby.”

“Yeah! I got it,” he calls, reappearing after the tap runs for a moment. He kneels between your legs and gently, softly, wipes the warm cloth over you until he’s satisfied you’re cleaned up well enough. “There, princess.”

“Thanks.”

He disappears back into the bathroom, and a wet slap suggests he’s just tossed the rag into the bath tub. An muffled ‘oops’ and there’s another sound of running water.

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, darting from the bed to snatch up his long-sleeve top. It had the Republic branded right in the middle, grey against the black, and you snuggle into it, sliding your arms into too-big sleeves. Fives reappears after a moment and grins, crooking a finger towards your shrouded form.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks, quietly, sincerely. “I’m assuming ‘no’ since you’ve stolen my shirt,” he hums.

“No, stay, please.” You usher him towards the bed, hands on his ass. You squeeze once with a snort and toss his trousers at him. He eases himself into them and pulls you into his chest.

“Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.” Fives grins, craning his neck to kiss you softly on the mouth, the nose, the forehead. You stare helplessly at him, your heart suddenly quite warm, and collapse onto the bed. “Come sleep.” You pat the space beside you and watch as he slides himself in. “Never had a double?” His look of confusion is an easy tell.

“Nope.”

“Comfy?”

He turns, half buried in thick duvet and silk sheets. You can barely make out his nod but slide down beside him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He’s like a furnace- probably going to irritate you later in the night- but you relax against his chest.

“‘Night.”

“G’night, pretty baby.”

for the bbs always: @thegoodbatch @djangofetts @jangohshit @queenofheavenandhell

#fives x reader #fives #arc trooper fives #arc trooper fives x reader #fives imagine #arc trooper fives imagine #fives smut #arc trooper fives smut #star wars #the clone wars #star wars smut #purely self satisfying

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returnsandreturns · 4 years ago

Text

No matter how much she changes or how old she gets, Foggy’s pretty sure she is still going to be who she was in high school deep inside: too loud, too weird, too much.

Which is why she probably shouldn’t have come to this reunion and definitely shouldn’t have trusted that Matt wouldn’t bail on her for truth and justice reasons even though he’s the one who volunteered to be her date so she had someone to talk to if nobody from Speech & Debate was there.

Which they aren’t, because they’re smarter than her.

It’s going fine because enough people who were decent remember her and noticed stuff about their firm kicking ass in the news and it feels like it matters that she’s grown up so much. And then there’s Kimberly.

Kimberly, who insisted on calling her Frances and forced everybody else to do it, too, even though the sound of it made Foggy feel like she was eight years old in uncomfortable shoes, getting lectured for talking in church.

Kimberly, who engineered a prank that involved somebody asking Foggy out and then immediately laughing at her when she said yes which is one of the more fucked up things that happened to her in her youth.

Fucking. . .Kimberly.

“Aww, Frances,” Kimberley says, swanning over in her cocktail dress, making a pouting face at her. “Are you here alone?”

She’s got the face of a YouTube makeup guru and the unfortunate personality of a YouTube makeup guru. Either way, Foggy would absolutely hate-subscribe to that channel because she makes bad choices.

“Hi, Kimberly,” she says, gritting out a smile. “Thanks for the concern but my date’s on his way.”

“Of course he is,” Kimberly says. “You know, you don’t have to lie. I’m sure nobody expected you to have a date, anyway.”

Ice in her veins. All up in there.

“Why don’t you just say what you’re implying?” she says, keeping her tone light. “We’re not actually teenagers, Kim. If you want to say something, say it.”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that we wouldn’t judge you if you couldn’t find anybody who wants to marry you,” Kimberly says, without the slightest pause to wonder if maybe she’s crossing some kind of line that adult women shouldn’t cross, and Foggy’s about to have words and hopes they’re coherent ones when suddenly Matt Murdock is pressed up against her side.

“Hey, babe,” he says, close to her ear and warm enough that it gives Foggy goosebumps, before he kisses her on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

“. . .hey, Matty,” she says, recovering enough to realize that he’s doing a bit. He could probably hear Kimberley from outside the gym and Foggy’s pounding heartbeat from a mile away. “What kept you?”

“Wanted to look good for your big night,” Matt says, grinning down at her. “Big-shot lawyers like you deserve trophy husbands. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Kimberley,” Foggy says, cuddling closer to him. He’s a good boy. “She’s. . .a classmate.”

Kimberley steps forward like she’s going to shake his hand or something but Matt turns back to Foggy, wrinkling his nose.

“Wow, is somebody’s perfume just. . .unbearable?” he asks.

“Oh, I think it’s Kim’s,” Foggy says, making a sympathetic face at her. “Sorry, he’s got a sensitive nose. Let’s go, baby.”

“We should dance,” Matt says, kissing her on the side of her head and following the pull of Foggy's hand on his arm. “People are dancing, right?”

“Yeah, I assume it's supposed to be like prom," Foggy says. "I didn't actually go, though."

"Me, either," Matt says, nodding toward the corner with the dance floor. "C'mon."

They're slow dancing to a terrible song when Foggy finally says, head resting on Matt's shoulder, "Thanks for faking it for me. You didn't have to."

"It was either that or one of us was going to fight that woman," Matt says.

"Yeah, she. . .apparently hasn't grown up at all," Foggy says, huffing out a laugh.

"Unlike you," Matt says.

"I've only gotten better with age," Foggy agrees. "And, hey, I'm married, apparently. Good thing you're hot enough to make everybody else jealous."

Matt gathers her a little closer for a moment before he kisses her softly on the mouth.

"Want to get out of here?" he asks.

"I don't know," Foggy says. "If there's kissing involved, I might want to stay here."

Matt smiles and kisses her again, a little longer, giving her a chance to kiss back.

"I'll kiss you wherever you want," he says, soft enough that Foggy knows it's just for her.

#mattfoggy #my fic #daredevil #i've only known terrible kimberleys

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ragingbookdragon · 5 years ago

Text

The Accidental Wife PT. 1

A Bruce Wayne x Reader AU!

Warnings: Explicit Language Author’s Note: I don’t remember what brought this story into existence, but rereading the parts I’ve written remind me of how enjoyable it was to make it! Enjoy! -Thorne

Her hand pressed the button on her alarm clock, and she sat up in bed; her hand moved to her phone and she picked it up, looking at the time. Eight-thirty…Time to get the boys up. She rose from the bed and stretched, feeling her bones pop, then she folded her sheets up and moved into the hallway. (Y/N) opened the first door and peeked her head in.

“Jay? Time to get up baby.” She heard a grunt and she smiled, closing the door and moving to the door across from it. She stepped inside and moved beside her son’s bed; (Y/N) placed a hand on his back and rubbed. “Timmy? Time to wake up Hun.” He groaned and she snorted, patting his back. “Don’t make me come in here again Timmy. I’ll bring cold water next time.” He weakly tossed a hand up and she laughed before walking to the hallway; she moved down the steps and into the kitchen, starting breakfast. A few minutes later, her second oldest stepped inside and moved to the table; she smiled at him as she flipped the bacon in the skillet. “Morning baby.”

“Mornin’ Ma.”

“Sleep well?” He nodded and set his books on the table; she eyed them. “History and Business Management?” Jason nodded again.

“Midterm exams are today.” (Y/N) placed a plate in front of him.

“You ready for it?” He huffed a laugh.

“They’re my fortes Ma.” (Y/N) ruffled his hair and placed a kiss on his head.

“I know they are. Your teachers always told me that when we’d go to parent-teacher conferences.” She moved back to the refrigerator and grabbed the orange juice, setting it down on the table. “You’ll do fine.” Jason smiled at her and she tipped her head to the stairs. “Timothy Jackson! Do not make me come up those stairs to wake you up again!” Jason laughed as she set another plate down.

“Timmy stay up all night again?” (Y/N) shrugged.

“Probably. Kid’s gonna run himself into the ground if he doesn’t sleep soon.” Jason chuckled, and a few minutes later, a groggy Tim came down the stairs, shuffling into the kitchen to the table. They watched him sit down and stare at his plate. (Y/N) set a hand on his shoulder. “Timmy? You okay?”

“…ffee…”

“What?”

“Coffee.”

“Magic word?”

“Please.” (Y/N) smiled and set a cup down in front of him, watching as he picked it up and drank from it.

“Better?” He nodded.

“Much.” (Y/N) snorted and went into the kitchen again, putting dishes into the sink, then, the sound of the door opening and closing came into the house.

“Mom…I’m home!” (Y/N) tipped her head into the hallway and smiled.

“Dickie! What are you doing here all the way from Blüdhaven?” Dick grinned and put his hands on his hips.

“Can’t I come home and see my family?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and opened her arms, laughing as he walked into them. He picked her up and bear-hugged her; then, he put her down and moved into the kitchen. “Jay! Timmy! What’s hanging little brothers?” (Y/N) listened to her sons go back in forth as she stepped to the table and sat down; she stared at them.

“Mom? Is everything alright?” She looked up at Dick and smiled.

“Yeah baby…just been awhile since all of us have sat down at the table for breakfast…I missed it.” They gave sad smiles and Dick took her hand.

“Sorry Mom.” (Y/N) shook her head and squeezed his hand.

“Don’t be sorry baby.” She paused and looked at her sons. “My babies are grown and living their best lives. What more could I ask for?” Her son’s smiles grew, and she leaned on her other hand. “So, what’s our agendas for today?”

“I have my midterms today, then I’m going to work.” She nodded at Jason, then looked at Tim.

“I have classes and my internship at Wayne Enterprises today.”

“How’s that going?” He nodded.

“It’s going well. Mr. Wayne is an excellent boss.”

“Seems like you’re learning a lot from him?” Tim glanced at Dick and opened his mouth to speak, but Jason beat him to it.

“I’m still surprised you’re actually working with The Bruce Wayne.” Tim shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m still expecting the dream to wear off.”

“How did you end up working with him again?” Tim glanced at Dick.

“I submitted a plan to upgrade technology and save money at the same time, and he called me to his office and asked if I wanted to work with his team.” He paused. “Apparently they liked my plan.” (Y/N) smiled.

“Of course, they did. No one knows tech like you Timmy.” They watched as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and she turned to Dick. “So why are you here from Bludhaven? I thought you had to work?” Dick picked up a piece of bacon from his plate and popped it in his mouth.

“Had the day off. Figured I’d come home and see how everyone is doing.” He placed a few envelopes on the table. “Picked up the mail by the way.” (Y/N) took the bills and stood up, flipping through them. “What do we have mom?”

“A few bills and the survivor’s benefit from the VA.” She passed the bills to Dick. “Take my bank card and go pay those for me, please. I have to work the late shift for Darleen tonight…I won’t be able to get to the bank today.” Dick nodded and took them, then she passed the check to Jason. “Go with your brother to the bank and put this into yours and Tim’s accounts.”

“What about you Ma?” She waved him off as she put the dishes in the sink.

“Don’t worry about me Jay. Just put the money into your accounts.” Jason’s eyebrows furrowed.

“But Ma.” She held up a hand.

“You boys need to go get ready. You’ll be late for school.” Tim and Jason looked at the clock before rushing from their seats and up the stairs; (Y/N) snorted and began clearing the table, taking the dishes to the sink. She felt Dick stand beside her and she sighed. “Don’t worry Dickie…Everything’s fine.”

“Is it?” She nodded and he reached out, turning her to him. “Mom.” (Y/N) sighed again.

“We’re fine Dickie.” She paused and wiped her hands on the towel. “Just a few bumps. But we’ll be okay.” Dick stared at her.

“What happened?” (Y/N) exhaled and looked up at him.

“…Alex had to let me go the other night.” His eyes widened.

“For what?”

“Some asshole grabbed me, and I broke his arm.” She leaned against the counter. “To keep him from suing Alex and I, I agreed to walk. I’ve been checking the newspapers for job listings, and I’ve been pulling extra shifts at the diner to make sure we have money.”

“That’s why you’re telling Jay to put the VA check in their accounts?” (Y/N) nodded.

“If anything happens, and we end up in an unfortunate position, I want you boys to be able to stay afloat as long as you can.” She glanced at him. “I don’t have to worry about you in Bludhaven, because I know you have a successful job. But Tim and Jason are still in college, and I need to keep them going until they graduate and do the same.” Dick stared at his mother before pulling her into a hug.

“I wish you would’ve called me mom. I could’ve sent some money over.” He felt her shake her head.

“No. It’s my job as your mother to keep you boys safe and protected. Besides, your money is yours Dick. Keep that for your own.” Dick pulled away.

“Mom…I make almost eight grand a month. My expenses are three grand a month. I can help out if you need me to.” She shook her head.

“Like I said Dickie, that’s your-”

“And if I’m not using that extra money to help take care of my little brothers, and the woman who has always kept food in my stomach, clothes on my back, a roof over my head, and countless other things, then what good of a son am I?” (Y/N) stared at him in shock and he spoke solemnly. “Mom. I can help you.” She held his gaze for as long as she could before sighing and nodding reluctantly.

“If you could pay the electricity bill, I’d appreciate it Dickie.” He smiled and nodded before placing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll take care of it Mom. Anything else?” (Y/N) handed him a grocery list.

“Get groceries please. You can use my debit for that.” He waved her off and took the list.

“I’ll take care of it Mom, don’t worry about it.” She huffed a laugh and moved past him, stopping at the stairs.

“I always worry. Comes with being a mother.” He snorted and she looked up the stairs. “Boys! Put it in gear!”

“Ma! Where’s my leather jacket?!”

“I don’t know Jay! The last time I wore your jacket was…never!”

“Ha-ha Ma…Very funny!”

“I try! Tim! Are you done yet?!”

“I’m about to brush my teeth!” She grunted and moved to the door.

“I swear…you boys have no concept of time.”

“Hey! I do to!” She glanced at Jason and held out his backpack.

“Well take your concept and take it to school, else you’ll be late.” He grinned and kissed her cheek.

“Love you Ma.” She smiled as he headed out the door.

“Love you baby.” Tim came rushing down the stairs, adjusting his tie.

“Mom, do I look alright?”

“You look sleep-deprived.” Tim snorted and kissed her cheek before taking off after Jason.

“Love you Mom!” She was about to respond when he stopped and turned around. “What are you doing Friday night?” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Mr. Wayne invited me to dinner and asked me if I would extend the invitation to you and the others.”

“Really?” He nodded.

“Yes ma’am.” (Y/N) went silent for a moment, then nodded.

“Darleen owes me for her shift tonight, so I’ll ask her to take mine Friday. Tell him we’ll be there.” Tim grinned and waved before running after Jason. “Love you!” His hand went in the air and she closed the door; Dick stood beside her and she looked at him. “Mind helping me around the house?” He smiled and nodded.

“Sure.”

She stared at the mirror then turned around and tugged at the dress.

“Should I go with the red one instead?” Her sons stared at her from their spots on the bed.

“I think the black one looks good on you Ma. Makes you look slim.” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow.

“Trying to tell me something Jay?”

“What! No! I just meant that black makes you look slim. And most women want their figure to be flattered. Black does that.” She paused and turned around again.

“You may be right.”

“Why are you so concerned about this Mom? It’s just dinner.” She looked at Tim through the mirror.

“Yes…Dinner…with your boss. Who happens to be one of the richest men in the world? I can’t look like a mess in front of him. It would be an embarrassment for you.” Tim snorted.

“Mr. Wayne won’t be bothered by that mom.” She grunted and adjusted the dress.

“You say that, but when he looks me up and down, the moment his eyes reach mine, they’re either going to indicate that he’s impressed by me, or not.” She met his eyes. “I’d rather it be the first one than the second.” Dick rose from the bed and moved beside her.

“You look great mom.” She sighed and nodded.

“Thank you, baby.” (Y/N) turned and looked at them. “Are you boys ready?” They nodded and she tipped her head. “Then let’s head out.” They followed her to the door and to the car.

When they arrived at the restaurant, (Y/N) stared at it in shock.

“Mom? You good?” She nodded.

“I’ve never seen such a fancy restaurant…except in the movies.” Tim grinned and motioned them to follow; they stepped in and a waiter greeted them.

“Mr. Drake?” Tim nodded and he motioned them. “Please follow me. Mr. Wayne is waiting for you.” (Y/N) began taking deep breaths as they walked through the restaurant.

“Ma? Are you hypervenilating?” She looked at Jason and glared.

“I’m fine…just a little nervous.” Tim snorted and glanced over his shoulder.

“Mom. Mr. Wayne isn’t going to do anything.” She rolled her eyes but kept silent.

Eventually, they moved into a secluded room, and her eyes fell on a man sitting at the table; he looked up at them and smiled, rising to greet them. He held out a hand and shook it with Tim.

“Tim. Glad to see you could make it.” Tim shook his hand and grinned.

“Thank you for inviting us.” He paused and turned to (Y/N), gesturing her forward; she stepped next to him and smiled. “Mr. Wayne, I’d like to introduce my mother, (Y/N) (L/N).” She held out her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Wayne. Timm-” She caught herself. “Tim has spoken about you many times.” He took her hand and placed a kiss to the back of it.

“Pleasure is all mine Ms. (L/N). And please, call me Bruce.” (Y/N) felt her cheeks warm and she let out a nervous laugh.

“Can…do.” She heard a cough and her two oldest stood beside her; they held out their hands.

“Dick Grayson.”

“Jason Todd.” He shook their hands and turned back to (Y/N).

“Wonderful family you have Ms. (L/N).” She smiled and looked at her sons.

“They certainly keep me on my toes.” He smiled and motioned to the table.

“Please, sit.” They took their seats and he looked at her. “Do you drink Ms. (L/N)?”

“You can call me (Y/N), Bruce. Ms. (L/N) makes me feel old.” Bruce chuckled and he nodded.

“Totally understand (Y/N).” He glanced at her. “You look like a white wine type of woman.” She grinned.

“I’m more of red actually.” Bruce nodded and motioned to the waiter.

“Montoya Cabernet, two glasses.” He paused and motioned to Dick and Jason. “Unless you two would like some also?” Jason shook his head.

“I prefer beer.” (Y/N) elbowed Jason in the side and he grunted. “I mean, no thank you, but I appreciate you asking.” Dick snorted and nodded his head.

“I’d like to try some.” Bruce smiled and turned to the waiter.

“Three glasses then.” The waiter nodded and took off; Bruce leaned forward. “So (Y/N), Tim tells me you’re a waitress?” (Y/N) eyes darted to Tim who wore a nervous smile; she huffed a laugh and nodded.

“Yes. I work at Tammy’s Diner on fifth and parks. Worked there for most of my life actually.”

“Were you born in Gotham?

“No, Blüdhaven originally, but my parents moved to Gotham when I was younger.” Bruce nodded and she turned to Tim. “So how is my son doing? No problems, I assume?” Bruce chuckled and nodded.

“Your son is a genius (Y/N). I’m lucky to have someone so smart on my team.” She smiled as Tim rubbed his neck, and Bruce turned to the others. “From what Tim’s told me, you two are also making strides in your work. Dick, you’re a police officer in Blüdhaven, correct?” Dick nodded.

“Yes sir. I joined a few months ago.”

“Are you enjoying it?” Dick laughed.

“I love my job…paperwork is a pain though.” They shared a laugh.

“I know what you mean.” His gaze turned to Jason. “And you Jason, you’re majoring in history, aiming to teach?” Jason nodded.

“I plan to teach at Gotham High…if I can get a teaching degree.” Bruce nodded.

“You could teach at Gotham Academy if you wanted.”

“I could…but I’d prefer to help the kids of Gotham who were like me growing up.” He paused. “Ma taught us to give back to those who need it. I plan on giving back to the kids of Gotham.” (Y/N) felt her heart warm at his words, and a smile crossed her face; Bruce caught this and smiled.

“You seem proud of your sons (Y/N).” She nodded.

“I couldn’t be prouder of my sons.” She glanced at them. “They’re my world.” The boys flushed at her words, and Bruce smiled.

“They seem like good young men.” (Y/N) met his eyes.

“They are.”

After dinner, they sat around the table, listening to Dick tell a story about work.

“And I looked at the guy and I said, ‘Man…What’s a drug dealer doing selling shoes? You’re tripping man.’” They burst into laughter, and he continued. “I mean, I still had to book the guy for possession, but the mood was certainly lighter.” (Y/N) laid a hand on his arm, the other wiping under her eyes.

“Oh Dickie, you crack me up.” He smiled.

“I try to mom.” Bruce watched them for a moment.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did they come into your care?” The room went silent as the boys stared at their mother, and Bruce raised a hand. “I apologize, that was wrong to ask.” (Y/N) shook her head.

“No, it’s fine.” She paused and looked at the boys. “Do you mind?” They shook their heads and she started with Dick. “Dick’s parents were…” She paused and Dick laid a hand over hers.

“Mom…it’s alright.” She smiled sadly and nodded.

“Dick’s parents were murdered when he was eight. GCPD placed him in the orphanage a few days after it happened. Eventually, he fled and somehow ended up at the diner I worked at. I’ve grown up around the Narrows, so I know homeless kids when I see them, and I knew he was one. So, I sat with him and talked with him. He said he didn’t have anywhere to go, so on a whim, I let him stay at my home.” She paused and looked at Dick. “And here I was, in college, with an eight-year-old kid to look after…But it worked out in the end.”

“How so?” She glanced at Bruce.

“CPS showed up, asking that I hand Dick over…that he was supposed to be at the orphanage. I asked Dick if he wanted to stay with me. He said yes…the rest is history.”

“And Tim and Jason?” (Y/N) laughed.

“Jason and I actually had a rather humorous meeting.”

“Oh?” (Y/N) nodded.

“I caught him taking my tires.” Bruce’s eyes widened and she continued. “Dick put him in a headlock while I put the tires back on my car, then we invited him inside for dinner. He left that night and showed up the next. Eventually, it became a regular thing, and he became part of the family too.” She paused and looked at Tim. “Now Tim on the other hand was actually a surprise.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I was friends with Tim’s mother, Janet. When his father passed away, he showed up on my doorstep with a letter from his mother saying that if anything happened to her and Jack, she wanted Tim to stay with me. Dick and Jason immediately took him in under their wings, and that’s how the family is.” (Y/N) paused and looked at them. “I don’t know if I’ve been the best mother I could’ve been, but I made sure to raise them like gentlemen, with respect for people, and kindness to others. I don’t know who I’d be without them…They make me proud every day.” The smiles they gave her almost made her cry and she turned to Bruce. “Sorry…I’ve rattled on.” He shook his head.

“It’s a parent’s job to praise and dote on their children.”

“Do you have children of your own Bruce?”

“A son, Damian.”

“That’s a fine name.”

“Thank you…his mother picked it.” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t aware you had married?” Bruce snorted.

“Oh, she and I aren’t married.” (Y/N) nodded.

“I see. Apologies.” He smiled at her, and the waiter brought the bill; she watched as Bruce put a credit card on it and hand it back. After a few minutes, they stood outside the restaurant, watching as Bruce spoke to Tim; then, they walked over, and Bruce smiled.

“(Y/N)? May I speak with you for a second?” She nodded and handed the boys her keys.

“You boys go ahead and get into the car. I’ll be there in a sec.” The boys said their goodbyes and she and Bruce were left standing alone; she looked at him. “Thank you for inviting us out for dinner Bruce. I think I speak for us all when I say we enjoyed it.” He smiled and nodded.

“I’m glad I did. I usually invite my team’s families for dinner, just to meet them, and Tim was no different.”

“How is Tim doing?” Bruce’s tone took on one of pride.

“Your son is without a doubt, one of the best employees who’s ever worked at WE. He is so smart and so very capable of everything he’s given.” (Y/N) beamed with pride.

“That’s my boy.” The two of them shared a laugh and Bruce looked down at her.

“But the reason I wanted to speak with you, is because I was wondering if I could ask you to dinner again. Maybe the two of us?” (Y/N) eyes went wide and she gestured to herself.

“Like a…date?” He nodded. “With…me?” He huffed a laugh and nodded again.

“I enjoyed speaking with you (Y/N). I’d like to do it again.” She felt her cheeks warm.

“…Oh…”

“Unless you don’t want to. I’d never ask someone to do something they didn’t want to do.” She shook her head.

“No! I’d…love to.” Bruce smiled and took her hand, pressing a kiss to it again.

“Then I’ll speak with you later (Y/N).” She smiled bashfully at him as he walked off, then she called out after him.

“But you don’t have my number!” He turned as he was climbing into his car.

“I have my ways!” (Y/N) snorted as she walked to the car, climbing into the driver’s seat; her sons were on her in a second.

“What did he say Ma?”

“What did Mr. Wayne want?”

“You alright Mom?” (Y/N) raised a hand.

“Everything’s fine…relax.” They eyed her suspiciously.

“You’re grinning Ma.”

“Jay’s right mom. What’d he say?” She sighed and pulled onto the street.

“He just…asked me to dinner.” Shouts of shock went around the car and (Y/N) thought Tim’s eyes were going to bulge from his head.

“MR. WAYNE ASKED YOU OUT?! WHAT?!” She raised an eyebrow.

“Am I not capable of being asked out?”

“What?! No! I just meant…wow. I was not expecting him to do that.” (Y/N) shrugged.

“He asked…I accepted.”

“You sure that’s a good idea mom? He is Timmy’s boss.” She nodded.

“Even if it doesn’t go well, he doesn’t seem like the type of man to give up a good team member to get back at someone.” Tim nodded.

“She’s got a point.” (Y/N) raised a hand again.

“It’s just dinner.” The boys seemed to accept that answer until,

“I don’t like him Ma.”

#bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader imagines #bruce wayne x reader imagine #batman #dc imagine #dc imagines #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #dc comics

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sunnypogue · 4 years ago

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hockey rafe gets jealous & fights (blurb)

alright babes - there were quite a few requests for coho!rafe to get into a fight during a game.

fyi, it is v not allowed in college hockey, and results in a suspension. obviously rafe has already been in a couple fights this season, so getting in another one would be #bad.

also, pls disregard the rude things asshole mark says about the south - we do not like him.

(warnings: cursing, fighting, etc.)

you were the nicest girlfriend in the world. ever. in history.

you were sitting in a booth at your favorite mexican place, head resting in your palm as you sucked down your third margarita, straw never leaving your mouth.

meanwhile, your boyfriend, rafe was chatting away, oblivious to your boredom.

across from y’all were two visiting hockey players from ferris state - one was rafe’s good friend from bantam named wyatt, the other was wyatt’s teammate, mark.

it was a tradition for rafe & wyatt to grab dinner the night before their teams played, the hosting friend taking them to their favorite local hang. typically, this wasn’t a night you’d join in on, but rafe had been excited to introduce you to his childhood friend - you couldn’t say no.

you imagine it would have been fine if mark hadn’t tagged along.

mark was a lot from the jump. he was a transfer from a small minnesota college, and had never been south of the mason-dixon line. he had a loud personality and an even louder mouth, making small digs at anything related to the south - huntsville, the weather, the outfits, the men - you, being from the south, were over it. shockingly, your (normally) combative boyfriend hadn’t said anything about it, apparently too engrossed in his reunion with wyatt.

“hey babe,” you were jolted from your thoughts, as rafe nudged you with his shoulder. “wyatt and I are grabbing another drink - you want one?”

you looked down at your empty margarita glass, before looking back up towards him, nodding. “no salt this time, please.”

he smiled as he leaned down to kiss you, quick and chaste, before turning towards the crowded bar.

“what is that, your fourth one?” you heard mark scoff as soon as rafe was out of earshot.

you turned, crossing your arms as you faced the older boy. “is that a problem?”

he shrugged, sipping his beer. “just an observation.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back into the booth. “you know, you don’t have to be here. you could go back to the hotel or wherever the hell you’re staying.”

he laughed, short and sharp. “and miss out on all this culture? I would hate to not get the full huntsville experience.”

you turned your head towards the bar, not wanting to engage with him. out of your peripherals, you watched him knock back the remainder of his beer (his fifth one, you bitterly noted) before he spoke,

“you know, I don’t think I’ve actually gotten the full huntsville experience.”

you angled your body towards him slightly, not responding, but intrigued in what he had to say next.

he leaned in, a smirk on his face, “I figure I might as well fuck a southern belle while I’m down here. seems like it’s all you people have to offer.”

you stared at him, mouth agape. “you’re a fucking pig, you know that?”

he laughed, sliding over to sit right across from you. “you’re a fuckin’ pig,” he repeated, mocking your drawl. “shit, honey, maybe you’ll do. you’ve kinda got that sloppy drunk southern thing going on - I can work with that.”

you were on your feet in a second, head reeling. “what the FUCK did you just say?”

he smirked, shrugging his shoulders, before you barreled on, yelling, “I can’t believe you’d fucking say that to a stranger, you little bastard! what the fuck do you think you’re doing, fucking hitting on me with my boyfriend literally 30 feet away,” your face was bright red, part embarrassed, part pissed, hands clutching your purse. “you’re a fucking pervert, fetishizing women like that!”

“what the hell is going on?”

you turned to see rafe and wyatt, both holding drinks, taking in the scene. mark was unfazed in his chair, an amused smile on his face. you were breathless, cheeks red, knuckles white.

“nothin’ man, thanks for the drink.” mark leaned forward to grab his beer from wyatt.

rafe moved towards you. “it doesn’t really look like nothing. my girlfriend usually doesn’t call strangers fucking perverts unless they deserve it.”

mark shrugged, “I don’t know man, she’s a little drunk - just started yelling. can’t understand much though, with that accent.”

you scoffed, anger flaring up again, “yeah right, you fucking insulted me and hit on me all the same breath. don’t turn this shit around on me.”

“whatever bitch, you’re drunk.” mark rolled his eyes, sipping on his beer.

rafe snapped, lunging forward -you and wyatt moved simultaneously, you grabbing at rafe’s arm, wyatt blocking him from getting any closer to mark.

“shut the fuck up, you little bitch.” rafe seethed, pointing his finger down at a smirking mark. “I’ll wipe that fucking smirk off your face - don’t fucking talk to her like that.”

you tugged on his arm, hard - he was trying to pry it free to swing over wyatt at mark. “babe, just forget it. let’s go.”

“no! this little fucking bitch thinks he can say shit like that, and then has the fucking balls to sit there and lie about it to my face? I’ll kill him!” rafe was still pushing against wyatt, who was fruitlessly trying to talk him down, while a small crowd started to form.

“rafe!” you snapped, leaning forward to grab his shoulder. “look at me!”

he glanced back, eyes wild. “let me go.”

“no. you can’t do this, not right now. you won’t be able to play tomorrow night - let’s just go.” you spoke, firm and even, feet planted as you tugged on his arm again.

rafe huffed, stepping back from wyatt with his hands up. “fuck you. I’ll see you on the ice, you fucking pussy.”

mark grinned, all teeth, as he stood up noisily from his chair. “bye y’all!” he hollered in a put-on accent, wiggling his fingers in a taunt.

you practically had to drag rafe out of there, lugging him to car.

“I’ll fucking go in there and kill him. I’ll do it.” rafe was seething, looking back towards the restaurant.

you grabbed his face, palms on both cheeks, forcing him to look you in the eye. “baby, you gotta breathe. he’s not fucking worth shit - not worth fighting, not worth being mad about, and certainly not worth getting scratched.”

rafe took a few ragged breaths, his hand clutching your wrist as he tried to calm down. you murmured words of encouragement, as he slowly started to relax.

when his breathing was even, you handed him his keys from your purse, squeezing his hand twice, before watching him slide into the drivers seat.

he was silent most of the ride home, hand tense on your upper thigh. you moved your hand to rest behind his neck, softly playing with the hair at his nape.

he broke the silence at a stop light, turning to look towards you as he mumbled, “you okay?”

you nodded. “yeah, he’s a grade-a prick, but nothing to write home about. just caught me off guard.”

rafe grunted, looking back at the road as the light turned green. “I could kill him for talking to you like that. who the fuck does that shit?”

you shrugged, fingers interlaced with his hair, grown out for the season. “he’s just trying to get in your head - classic instigator.”

“I’ll fucking kill him tomorrow. I will.” rafe growled under his breath, turning into his driveway.

“rafe,” you started, giving him a look as he parked the car. “you can NOT fight him - you’ll get ejected and be out for the next three games - coach is already mad about the last two fights.”

rafe rolled his eyes, tugging his hat down. “I don’t fucking care.”

you scrambled out of the car, chasing him to the door, grabbing the house key out of his hand before pushing him against the wall, your forearm solid against his chest. “look at me - you are NOT fighting some prick tomorrow because he drunkenly said some stupid shit. you’re not going to ruin your season and your relationship with your coach because of me. you got it?”

rafe’s look of shock quickly morphed into a grin, as he registered the fact that you had pinned him to the wall, growling like a feral kitten. “shit, baby, maybe I should have just let you fight him.”

you leaned off of him, preening a bit at the compliment as you unlocked the door with the key you jacked from him, “damn straight baby, I can handle myself.”

you yelped as he spanked you, hard.

the next day, you were perched in the stands with your friends, entire body tense as you watched the puck drop. rafe had promised he wouldn’t fight, but you had a feeling that promise wouldn’t keep if mark decided to mouth off about last night.

thankfully, they weren’t on the ice together, as rafe’s d-pair was rolled out against the top line (you couldn’t help but giggle at mark grinding it out on the fourth line). after two periods, you allowed yourself to relax a bit, sipping the lukewarm beer you had been clutching since the first intermission.

of course, that’s when rafe got stuck on a long shift, not able to change before his d-partner iced the puck, allowing the other team to change lines.

you audibly groaned as mark’s line hopped onto the ice, putting your beer down so you could cover your face.

through your fingers, you watched as mark barked something in rafe’s direction from outside of the face-off circle.

“oh fuck me.” you whispered, biting your lip.

“what’s up?” your friend asked, leaning down to check on you.

you couldn’t even respond, because as soon as the puck dropped, rafe was skating up the ice as if he was shot out of a cannon, boarding the ever living fuck out of mark.

“oh.” your friend mumbled, leaning back as y’all took in the chaos on the ice, watching as it devolved into an entire line brawl, refs getting knocked around in the action.

you waited for rafe after the game in your normal spot, down the hall from the dressing room, looking unimpressed as he emerged with wet hair and a shiner.

“you promised me you weren’t going to fight.” you pouted, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck.

he shrugged, pushing his hair back, “I promised you I wasn’t going to ruin my season - and I didn’t. refs called me for 2 minute interference, that’s it.” he grinned.

you frowned, “yeah, well don’t get any ideas. you got lucky - you would have been out for the next month otherwise.”

rafe rolled his eyes, kissing you quick, before wrapping his arm around your shoulder as y’all headed out, “yeah, well, even so, it would have been worth it. little prick deserved it.”

you laughed, bumping your hip into rafe’s as y’all exited the arena, “my hero.”

#hockey rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx #obx fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #she writes

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years ago

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Girl Talk (The Song of Sway Lake Fic)

A/N: The moment has finally arrived! The first official collab/crossover between myself and @miss-kittys-magical-library! I’m really excited for how this came out, and how much fun we had writing it together. 😊 Word Count: 3127 Rating: T - mild language, brief mention of blood, discussion of violence

~The Papermill bookstore, Sway Lake~

Selina burst through the door of the bookstore. She almost doesn't wait for Jess to say hello or ask questions. Selina is overcome with adrenaline, the exhilaration of what she did. A giant smile spread across her lips. There's almost a dreamy look in her eyes.

She's covered in blood: her hands, her jeans, the bottom of her shirt. Selina held her hands like a surgeon so she didn't touch anything.

Jess’s mouth hung open while she pointed nervously towards the upstairs. Her friend knew where to find what she needed.

Selina comes out of the hot shower knowing Jess will be in the room waiting. She found clean clothes but stopped to study herself in the mirror. Somehow she felt like her body had changed somehow.

Selina caught a picture of her and Jess and held it up. How far they've come from the girls in the photo on her best friend’s dresser.

She glimpsed Jess in the mirror, a strange smirk on her face. Selina knew something was up. She handed the picture to her friend and spoke,

“Can you believe this was us?”

------

There had been a time in life where Selina and Jess had told each other everything, no matter what. And yet somehow this summer, one of the most eventful in recent history, Jess hadn’t told her best friend anything. Anyone who had spent any time on the lake knew about tensions between the Sways and...basically everyone, but especially Selina’s mother and her relatives. And more than that, it had been kind of nice to have a good secret all to herself for a little while. But she missed her friend, and would have loved her advice on what to do about the boy who was quickly becoming someone important, and a problem for her heart.

She was just thinking about the other girl, wondering if she should call her after work, maybe suggest a bonfire or late night rowboat race like they used to have, when Selina burst through the door. Jess’s eyes fell to the blood first, and then rose quickly to Selina’s face and the expression that didn’t match the apparent situation at all.

A thousand questions raced through her mind as she pointed her best friend toward her bathroom (not that Selina didn’t know where it was by now) and made quick work of closing the shop. She didn’t seem hurt, so everything else could wait. While Selina washed herself clean, Jess dug for any clothes left behind the last time she had come for a visit, and failing that, any old shorts and t-shirt. She left them on top of the dresser and poked her head into the bathroom to gather the discarded bloody garments and throw them into the wash.

Selina was standing in the bedroom, studying herself in the mirror when Jess returned, and for a moment she wondered, again, if her friend was injured.

“Can you believe this was us, what?”

Selina laughed, “These girls. We’re just girls here trying to be grown women. I sort of treated you like I did Sunny.”

She waited for Jess to maybe bristle or tense up at his name. “I marched on to the beach, saw the first girl my age who had SOMETHING in common with me, and declared you mine. We aren't little girls anymore.”

There was a bittersweetness in her voice. Selina didn't even care that she was naked.

Jess laughed. She remembered that day, meeting Selina after escaping her siblings in search of a moment of peace and quiet, far from what actually found her instead. But they had got on so quickly she'd forgotten to be angry about it.

"No, we really aren't," she agreed with a tinge of nostalgic sadness in her own voice.

She leaned back on her hands on the bed, watching her friend study the picture. "I never minded, you know. It was kind of nice to be claimed by somebody. You'll always be my first for that," she bit her lip, hoping the joke didn't come off as uncomfortable given the situation.

Selina finally dressed and sat beside her friend on the bed. Her knuckles caressed the other woman’s cheek before she swept the hair from her face. Without a thought, she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to Jess’s, tongue lingered a bit before she broke away.

“That's from Sunny too.” Selina laid on her side tucked under Jess’s arm. “How is it that I was here for a few weeks, and youuuu have been tramping around Sway Lake with some chick?! Have you gone FULL lesbian?” she dropped her voice low.

Jess turned onto her side, propping a head on her arm to face Selina.

"You two are so weird," she rolled her eyes. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

Her stomach flipped at the thought of Sunny, eyes cast to the ceiling as her thoughts wandered. She loved Ollie, but there was something raw about the idea of losing the other boy, even though he wasn't really hers anymore and hadn't been in quite some time.

She quirked a teasing eyebrow as she returned to the present moment and the woman beside her.

"If I was going to do that, do you think it would be with anyone else than you? Whoever gave you your gossip needs glasses."

Selina’s mouth dropped open, “There's a guy around here with hair that long?!”

She linked her arm through Jess’s and pulled her in for a hug. The other woman now wrapped up in her embrace. Selina let her chin rest on her friend’s head as she stroked her hair. “You feel happier. Content. Like you're just drifting along. I know you loved Sunny in your own way, but this is different. It's the,” she ran a hand up and down Jess’s body without touching it, “this. Papa would call it your aura.”

Jess grinned. "I am. I'm really, really happy," she answered dreamily. "Ollie's a really sweet guy. But only here for the summer…"

She swallowed down the lingering bitter taste her argument with Ollie the previous morning had left in her mouth, not wanting to burden the conversation with her fears. Especially not when she still had so many questions of her own.

"But don't think asking about my love life is going to get you out of explaining yourself, missy." She teased.

Selina sat up, “Oliver Sway?! Jessica! Come on. Any other Tom, Dick or asshole at this stupid lake. Sunny. Sunny’s RIGHT THERE. Just grab him by the ankle and bring him back to Earth. He needs you.”

She took a breath, “That.. harpie will tear you apart because you aren't good breeding. It's Sway Lake because that's what those upper crust cunts hold over this entire town. Sway. Lakes dont belong to one family, they should belong to EVERY person. Are Sunny and I the only ones NOT under this family’s curse? First Tom, then Nikolai and now you.”

Selina’s voice was full of disappointment more than anger. She looked at her hands. Her palms, white and clean, were just caked brownish red not even an hour ago. “It can't be the both of us.”

"Nikolai?!" Jess asked, staring for a moment before doubling over in laughter. "Oh god it all makes sense now."

She struggled to contain her laughter, gasping for air and wiping away the tears in her eyes from it.

"Fuck Charlotte Sway, I couldn't care less what she thinks," she said, sobering and then sighing. "It's not like I planned on falling in love with Ollie. But I did, and it kinda scares me. I really really don't want to lose him. And he hates her and the whole legacy bullshit as much as anyone. Let it all rot or burn or whatever."

Jess was silent for a moment. It was hard to say Selina was her only or even oldest friend. But they were best friends, for certain, and they knew everything about each other. There were even times when they were younger that Selina and Sunny had talked about soulmates and Jess had wondered if she were hers. Which is why her stomach twisted with guilt as she realized just how unsettled Selina was, and pretending not to be.

"But enough about me, it doesn't matter. Are you okay?"

Selina took Jess’s hand in hers. She laced their fingers together and laid down again. This time she and her friend were side by side. She was certain no one in any spoken language had invented a word for what the two of them were.

Selina knew it was why Leon and Johnny always ended phone calls and visits with long hugs and I love yous. Why Honey and Klaus showered each other with intimacy and affection Honey showed Leon. Friendships that made people question your sexual intentions. It was probably something in the Kostas skin, like a pheromone.

The 23 year old pushed the thought out of her mind that everyone around them was their friend because they didn't have a choice. Instead she squeezed Jess’s hand.

“You know Honey, she holds grudges with a tight grip. There's only two people she hates: Charlotte Sway and Reginald Hargreeves, and he's the one she really wants dead. Charlie is lonely and miserable. That's punishment enough for Mama. Papa always says she would make a great Mafia don. She DID like Tim Sway;

cried when he killed himself. He wasn't even Charlot-” Selina cut herself off. “Either way Ollie must take after him then. I hope he does. I think we played together when we were little?”

She realized she was avoiding the question and wanted to deflect solely on Jess. Sunny wasn't the only one who slept around up here, or had a weird effect. Selina again panicked if maybe, somehow, what was in him was in her. That the Russian on a canoe in the middle of the night would show up in the Village, screaming at her in the dead of night. Some of the guys she fucked flopped around on top of Selina for a few minutes, got off while she stared at the ceiling. Then they laid claim to her like any White guy who thought he owned someone else’s land.

“And don't laugh like that either! I was doing my duty as a future nurse and helping someone who got hurt.”

She watched Jess cross her arms, even on her back. She was giving Selina THAT stare. Selina threw her hands up. “Ohhh,” she whined, ”I was swimming, floating really. Probably out further than I should be in the middle of the night, but that fucking moon. And there he was on his way to get rid of those horrendous jet skis of Jimmy’s. And he was flirtatious and made me groan, but also laugh?”

Selina had pulled her knees up to her chest so she could hug them. A far off look on her face. “And he's very.. I didn't really pay attention to what he looked like. WHO, right? It was just this fire that went through me. Like I knew him?

“Mama always talks about the day I was born and speaking into existence this notion. That every version of her will be loved by and love Papa. She thought it was blood loss creating insanity, but Sunny and I had designs on a love like theirs.”

“And the way Nikolai made me feel, and the way he knew my body? We didn't even fuck; not like that. I haven't cum that hard or much ever. Even by myself.”

“Then he got hurt, and I made Sunny take me to him. Ollie had saved him, right? As we're stitching him back together, I see his face. That face I grew up with three times over. He's fashioned for me, Jess. Maybe like Ollie is for you. But Nikolai is Leon and Nicklaus and Klaus and he's made to be mine.”

"No, no I'm not laughing at that, or you," Jess promised. "Just...the first decent conversation Nikolai and I had, he mentioned meeting someone. Matching his description to you is what's funny. And the fact that you two are such opposites." Jess paused, smiling in fondness for both parties in question. "But it's safe to say he likes you, a lot."

She felt silly now, not putting it together sooner. After all, there was no one else in the world she could think more aptly described as a siren made of the moon. And as funny as it was on paper, something about Selina and Nikolai made sense.

And, it made her heart beat giddily. Her faith in fate was complicated, but when it came to the Kostases, the concept was shockingly simple. And it seemed impossible that this was just coincidence, the four of them tied together like this.

'Or maybe,' she silently scolded, 'it's wishful thinking so you can tell yourself you're not being completely crazy.'

The rest of what Selina said registered belatedly and she blanched. "Wait. That was a lot of blood. Are you saying that it was all Nikolai's?"

“It was,” Selina replied softly.

"Jesus. What did he do, get in a knife fight?" Her voice was a mixture of concern and annoyance.

She could see Nikolai doing something like that, to defend his own pride which he deflected onto Ollie, or for some other stubborn, idiotic thing. And now that there were two people she loved who would get hurt if something happened to him, she made a note to have a little chat with him about being so reckless. And to find Ollie later to check on both boys.

"I know if he had you helping take care of him, I don't have to ask if he'll be alright." She nudged Selina teasingly with a shoulder, hoping to break up some of the heavy, contemplative air settling over them both.

“Knives don't cause QUITE as much damage as you think. Unless you hit a vein. Diego showed me how to do it effectively once. Plus if he's like the others, Nikolai probably prefers fists to weapons. Or the spider monkey sleeper-hold thing Klaus and Sunny do. Although Papa stabbed Uncle Jonny once, it was just an artificial wound.”

Selina suddenly scooped Jess up in her arms so they could go back to a cuddle. She tangled her legs and arms around Jess to sort of dominate her personal space. Her forehead pressed into her friend’s neck.

“He and Jimmy got into it, and they were on the boat dock. Nik slipped and hit his head. Ollie swam for like, the first time ever to get him up into a boat. Had pressure on it. I just stitched him with fishing wire. They'll do better at the ER.”

Selina sighed, “If he's like them he wouldn't die anyways. Klaus died like twice in a few days, also head injuries? Either way, Nikolai would’ve been fine without me.”

Then almost like an afterthought, “Did you say he talked to you about me? Probably something about conquests and the Russian army. But you! YOU FELL IN LOVE this summer! I got my pussy licked and think he's this mythical soulmate. You're in actual, real love.”

Selina propped up on her elbow, “Have you slept together? No I'm sorry, YOU get to call it MAKING LOVE!!” she burst into a fit of giggles around cheeks fired by jealousy. “I am happy for you. I promise. I'm glad Sunny.. I'm just happy.”

"No, actually," Jess said, shifting around Selina so they tucked together more cleanly, like two matched puzzle pieces. This kind of closeness wasn't Jess's favorite thing, but Selina knew that, and Jess trusted that if she didn't need it, she wouldn't be initiating it. "It was surprisingly non-militant. And only one nautical reference."

Jess hesitated, remembering some of the incidents Selina had to deal with and one or two more from the summers that Sunny, or Jess herself, had headed off before they got far enough to be a concern (or for Selina to even know). She wanted her friend to know just what Nikolai had said, and that he very much did not just see her as just some conquest. But the line between sweet and creepy was a hazy one at best. She brought one hand away from the tangle to fret the corner of her thumb between her teeth while she thought it over.

"I'm not saying I'm jealous...but I thought it was romantic. And dramatic of course, look who we're talking about. But dramatic isn't always bad. I wish you'd stop dismissing yourself like that. Soulmate or no, you have some sort of feelings for him which seem serious; one might call it a crush at least. And he made you feel good. He made you happy. You're allowed that. You deserve it. And now, for the moment if not more, you have it, savor it."

"As for Ollie and me..."

She froze, frowning as she struggled to figure out just what to say. There was a part of her that feared a reputation of some kind (even though it was just Ollie that she'd been a first time for, and Sunny, but he didn't count). And another part that wanted to keep it to herself, even though most of her wanted to share. She bit again at her thumb, searching for words.

"It's not that big of a deal?"

Selina bit her lip before a yawn escaped her. “One: a crush is a crush because you can get hurt. Otherwise, it would be called a cushion. I think that's what Papa said once. Or was it Klaus?”

Selina closed her eyes now. “Either way, it's a very big deal! I can feel the difference in you. I want you to be in love. To maybe leave Sway Lake. Come back to the city with me? Close up this place for a few months. You can live with me. Or Oliver for a little while. Oh lovely little Oliver making my sweet Jessica come ‘round again. All your sadness and little pieces everywhere. I couldn't stitch you back together with fishing wire, could I? I shouldn't have let Sunny break your heart. I just didn't want being around me to remind you of him. I'm sorry. But Ollie.. he’ll.. Sorry, I think I'm a bit delirious from adrenaline? Mind if I nap a bit?”

But Selina was fast asleep before Jess could give permission.

Jess shook her head with a smile, carefully extricating herself and tucking her friend into the bed. Selina had given her a lot to think about.

#hopefully this formatting worked #it was not at first #author collaboration #Jess O'Neill and Selina Kostas #Moonbrella Lake Crossover #The Song of Sway Lake fic

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achaoticeternal · 4 years ago

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the 1 // d. malfoy

DRACO MALFOY X MUGGLEBORN!READER folklore/evermore series masterlist

Summary: he couldn’t see past one thing, and because of that, he left. but it could have been fun, if he could have been the one. Word Count: 2.9k Warning: Blood Prejudice. Angst. Lost love. A/N: it is implied that the reader is not in slytherin but a house is not specifically mentioned.

It’s funny how the simplest things one sees in their everyday life can bring back a spiral of memories - good or bad. Green apples, paper airplanes, and the combination of silver and green were now forever tainted in your mind. It was silly that something as human and simple as blood and family had to be the downfall of what was thought to be a love that would last a lifetime. And however hard you would try to cast away and thoughts or feelings or symbols of him, memories always had a way of persistently reminding you of what was no longer yours and possibly was never yours...

Hogwarts, 4th Year

September welcomed you with the last tastes of summer warmth before winter came stalking back, only to bring the tundra with it. It was the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and a year of making new, international acquaintances with the women of Beauxbatons and the men of Durmstrang.

Your summer had been less eventful than that of your peers whom a great majority had attended the Quidditch World Cup and some even experienced the Death Eaters return. Rumors had been around about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returning and which wizarding families would side with him. Of course, house and blood prejudice played a part in it all, but you managed to look past all of the controversies in the wizarding world. Over the summer, you had grown into yourself and blossomed into a beautiful witch who was very bright for her age. Others around the school had noticed as well, including the men from Durmstrang that created competition for the boys of Hogwarts.

However, with it now October, none of them caught your attention yet as you walked back to your seat in the arena with Hermione after leaving the Champions Tent to check in with Harry, whose name had unfortunately spouted for the Goblet of Fire. Today was the first challenge of three, and you had done your best to be supportive of your friend.

“Hermione, please calm down. Harry will figure it out, he always does,” You glided down the steps in front of her, looking for your fellow Gryffindors.

“But a dragon! This challenge is unbelievably foul! And that Daily Prophet woman has made this all so much-” As Hermione rambled on, she paid little attention to her feet and accidentally stepped on the back of your heel.

The misstep along with the shock had caused you to lose your balance and begin to take a tumble down the steps. As you felt gravity pull you down and prepared yourself for the inevitable pain with it, a pair of arms and a masculine frame had caught you before the disaster could occur.

“Careful, (y/l/n), we can’t have you harming that beautiful face. It would be quite a shame if you took a nasty tumble down the stairs,” he spoke, his tone a fine line between flirtatious and condescending.

“Oh, I-” The boy helped you balance yourself on the steps again, and you finally lifted your head to meet the eyes of your savior, “Draco.”

“Are you alright, (y/l/n)? Not to frightened by the dragons, are you?” His grey eyes peered back up into yours as you were slightly taller than him due to the steps of the stairs.

“No, no, of course not,” You shook your head softly and smiled to the boy, “Thank you, Draco.”

As if on cue, Hermione had invaded the private moment between you and the Malfoy boy, “Excuse us, Malfoy, but we would like to go sit with our friends before Harry enters the arena.”

His gaze broke off to glare at Hermione, “Oh yeah, you catch quite a view of him cowering away from the beast. I bet he’ll forfeit the challenge five minutes in.”

Draco’s entire demeanor had changed from a strange kindness to a smug arrogance as he sneered at the Granger girl. You didn’t want anything more to come from the encounter, so you caught Draco's attention again by lightly fixing his hat that had become lopsided, “Thank you again, Draco, but we should really be getting to our seats.”

His eyes flickered back to you and his features softened again, “Well if you feel like joining me in cheering for Krum, there will remain a seat open for you.”

With that, he allows the pair of you the breeze past him as he returns to his seat. A warmth stayed persistent on your cheeks as you made your way next to Ron, who looked quite disgruntled.

“(y/n), what was that back there?” Hermione questioned as the pair of you took your seats,

“What happened? Harry say something?”

Before you could speak, Hermione replied, “I accidentally tripped (y/n), but Draco caught her before she could tumble down the steps. Which I guess is somewhat lucky, but he flirted with her.”

“Malfoy?!? But he-,” Ron looked at you, both quizzical and worried, “Did he do anything? He jinx you?”

“Um... no,” You looked between the two of them, lost in their confusion.

“But Malfoy can’t stand muggle-borns, even if they are kind or pretty as you, (y/n),” Ron wrinkled his nose at the thought.

“That’s just it,” Both yours and Ron’s attention snapped to Hermione, “I don’t think Malfoy knows that you’re muggle-born which probably is in your favor, you saw how he looked and spoke to me.”

A canon erupted, signaling that Harry would enter the arena in only a moment. The shock of it all had left you confused, “it was probably just a one-time encounter. Let’s just watch Harry, and let that just blow over.”

With that, the three of you cheered for the Gryffindor boy and mostly forgot about your encounter with Draco. Sure, the memory of it would continue to puzzle you and keep you up at night to only be lost in thought. Yet, December rolled around quicker than anyone expected and with it, exciting news.

Along with the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the tradition of the Yule Ball would fall on the eve of the winter solstice. Many girls around the school were already gossiping about dates, dress, and dancing even though many of their male colleagues seemed to be quite opposed to the event. That was until the school announced that the Weird Sisters would be playing a set at the ball.

Of course, the main chatter was who the champions were taking to the Yule Ball because every girl wanted Cedric or Viktor to ask them and every boy was lining up to ask Fleur. Yet poor Harry couldn’t seem to catch a break-even in finding a date for the night. But Hermione would be quite the talk of the town once everyone realized that she was Viktor’s date for the ball, and he had taken a further interest in her. The pair of you chatted as you walked towards your classes together - she was going to the astronomy tower and you were going to divinations.

“I still can’t believe you snagged Viktor Krum! I mean I’m not exactly surprised with both your beauty and brains-”

“Oh stop that,” Hermione blushed and tried to quiet you down, “Who are you going with? I know that you’ve been asked at least five times today!”

As she showered you in compliments, you saw the flash of platinum blonde hair breeze past the pair of you with a few followers trickling behind. It was undoubtedly Malfoy and his crew who were also headed to Professor Trelawney’s class.

“I haven’t said yes to anyone yet,” you admitted timidly.

“What?!? You have to be kidding me, (y/n). I know at least half the Durmstrang boys would love to be your escort for the night-”

“I-I know that, Hermione,” you flushed as the pair of you paused on the stairs, “I’m just... waiting for the right person.”

“Alright, just make sure you say yes to him. Or else I fear Harry or Ron will ask you,” You bid each other goodbye and separated to your designated classes.

As you made your way up the north tower to try and make it to class a few minutes early. Even though other students may have found her strange and overbearing, you knew that she was deep down a kind lady who wished the best for everyone she crossed paths with. Yet before you could make it up much further, you felt a light tug on the hood of your robes.

“Oh!” you jumped slightly at the shock.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, (y/n),” Michael Corner smiled as he glanced up at you, “do you have just a quick second?”

“I do, but let’s step into the window sill so that we’re out of the way,” you suggested. He stepped over onto it first, before offering his hand out to you, “Thank you.”

Few students passed by the two of you and up into the north tower, there was still 5 minutes till classes started but you still hoped to be early enough to snag a seat in the front.

“Well, how can I help you, Michael? Did you get my notes from Cho? I asked her to pass them onto you, but I can make you an extra copy-”

“No, no, she passed them along to me. Thank you for that. Potions is sadly not my area of expertise,” He smiled as a little blush dusted his cheeks, “I actually was wondering if you had a date to the Yule Ball? And if not-”

“(y/l/n)!” you heard Draco call and quickly hurry up the steps towards you, “Thank Salazar I found you before classes started.”

Draco paused next to you, giving you the kindest eyes before his gaze turned towards Michael. His expression changed into that of one mixed with jealousy and disagreement, “Corner, shouldn’t you be out in the greenhouses. Why don’t you leave (y/n) alone before someone gets the impression that a Ravenclaw is going to skip class.”

Michael glanced at you then over to Draco before disappearing down the stairs. Before he completely vanished from your sight, he looked back up at you with a very apparent look of disappointment in his eyes. Draco now took the spot where Michael was previously and held your right hand in his.

“(y/l/n), I don’t know if you realize but you are quite a wanted woman recently,” Draco smirked, his grey eyes flickering across your face as if gathering information.

“I guess so... I mean with the ball and everything, I have gotten plenty of proposals.”

“So I’ve heard, but you’ve yet to say yes to any of them, or so I’ve heard.”

“Correct again. I haven’t given my word to attend with anyone, but I did promise a dance or two to a few gentlemen,” you tried to analyze the situation as best as you could, but Draco remained unreadable to you. He also knew how to put up a good front.

“Well, (y/n), I am hoping that you’ll give me the pleasure of being my date to the Yule Ball, and hopefully, you will allow me to take you to Hogsmeade in the next few weeks,” his face had softened as he waited for a reply, his smugness and confident stance faltering under your gaze.

“Draco, are you asking me out? As your girlfriend and to the Yule Ball?”

“I figured- you know... two birds with one stone.”

“I would love to be your companion to the Yule Ball,” You beamed at him, “and your girlfriend.”

That day had long passed now. So had the Yule Ball and your entire fourth year. Now you were at the end of your fifth year and Draco no longer treated you like a prized possession, let alone sparing you a glance.

At some point in your relationship, the sweetness of being in love ended as he began expecting behaviors and ideas from you that you never expressed before. He still held Slytherin above every other house and expected you to treat those not in Slytherin's house the same way he did. He wanted your attention and affection at every second, instead of allowing you to be with friends and he rarely ever returned affections either. But the worst behavior that Draco partook of that crossed every line for you was the blood prejudice.

He held being part of the Sacred Twenty Eight to a higher degree than necessary in all aspects. There was a difference in being proud of your bloodline and then being prideful of your bloodline. And the Malfoy family very much fell into the pride of being Pureblooded Wizards.

That was when a puzzle really clicked into place for you. Yes, Draco had loved you for you, but he also needed his parents to love you. He tried to pressure you into a perfect little box that he could wrap up and present to mummy and daddy. You understood why he felt the needed to continue being the perfect Malfoy, but you couldn’t understand why he thought it was okay to pull you into it. His parents would never accept you for one reason.

“I don’t understand this, (y/l/n). we took a break just like you asked and it has done nothing. I know you still love me, so let's stop this ridiculous behavior. My parents want to meet you again. Mother loved you and I’m sure this time father will...”

“No, Draco. I don’t want to go back to the Manor,” You shook your head and took deep breaths.

“Well, that’s odd, but we can go to your estate-”

“No, can’t you listen-”

“The Three Broomsticks then, but please, I need you-”

“No, Draco, you aren’t listening to me,” tears threatened to spill as you felt your heart begin to shatter. You had never lied to Draco, but the truth about your family had never come to the surface.

As far as it concerned the Wizarding World, the (y/l/n) Family was also a part of the Sacred Twenty Eight Pureblood families. You understood the confusion and had to explain it to many of your friends and professors. But now Draco had to know the truth, even if it meant he wouldn’t be yours anymore.

“I’m not whoever you’ve painted me out to be,” your bottom lips quivered as you took a deep breath, “I’m not exactly who you think I am.”

Draco’s whole body dropped, “what do you mean?”

“Yes, I am part of the (y/l/n) bloodline, but I’m also a muggle-born.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense.”

“My grandparents had five children. My two uncles, my father, and my two aunts. All of them great wizards, except for my father who had no magical abilities - the only one in our family. He married my mother, who is a muggle. However, I am a witch.” you confessed it all, praying that he would understand. Maybe he would love you enough to glance over this fatal flaw.

“A squib? Your father is a squib and you never bothered to mention it!”

“It wasn’t that important I thought, because I’m still a member of a Pureblood family! I thought that you would see over it because it’s such a small hiccup.”

“I- no, I can’t just look over it. You know I can’t and you know I won’t,” Draco glared, looking at you with the same disdain that his father had when speaking of muggles.

“Draco, please. We can lie and just paint over this. I’ll even get my family to lie, but I don’t want to lose you. I’ve never felt like this with anyone, ever in my life,” A few stray tears managed to escape your defense as you begged him.

“(y/n), we both know who my parents, who my family, who we are associated with. I can’t risk it and neither can you.”

“I love you, Draco. And everyone knows it.”

“I love you too. And hopefully, you will get it through your head while I can’t love you anymore.”

During your sixth and seventh years, you never spoke to Draco, let alone offered a glance in his general direction. He shattered your heart after you had thought you had found your person, your soulmate if you will. The only thing the shocked you was that he never mentioned or let lose the dirtiest secret of your family. It wouldn’t have changed much but still have hurt you enough in many social circles.

Even after the Battle of Hogwarts had passed, you still hadn’t made up with Draco and even Harry Potter, his schoolyard nemesis, ended up coming to terms. All your friends were engaged, married, or dating. You had also tried, but nothing ever came of anything you attempted to pursue. The spark you once had with who you thought was the love of your life never reappeared with anyone else.

However, you heard from the newlywed Potter’s that Draco had married - an arranged marriage - but married nonetheless. To Astoria Greengrass who was two years your younger back in school. Both purebloods, caring for their family lineage. The news had come to you at the end of another failed relationship and felt like a ton of bricks on your chest.

No, the Malfoy prejudice was in no way your fault. You had done everything you could to salvage the relationships and love him unconditionally. But sometimes you wonder...

if one thing had been different, would everything be different?

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lost-in-fanfic · 4 years ago

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The Woman - Thomas Shelby x Reader (Part 1)

A/N : I could not get this idea out of my head so I’ve had a go at writing it down. I hope people enjoy it :) I want to do the idea justice so am going to split into parts. Not my GIF and I don’t give permission for anyone to use my work.

Warnings : Reference to past abuse, mentions of murder, to be honest the usual things you’d expect from a Peaky fic.

A brief summary: (Y/N) has come to Small Heath with a job to to, a job she’s done before, but never has she come into contact with anyone like Tommy Shelby.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word Count: 1464

Walking into The Garrison that night none of the Shelby family noticed anything untoward, there was the usual smell of stale smoke mingled with the scent of working men and the sounds of drunken conversations, but nothing to suggest any danger. They made their way into their private snug and Harry, the bar keeper, followed quickly behind with glasses and a bottle of Irish whisky.

What they should have noticed was the man in the corner, on the opposite side of the front door to the snug, with his head resting on his left hand, his hat pulled over his eyes, a glass of whisky in front of him and lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. If any of them had noticed him, they would have seen that the man apparently drinking himself into a stupor had his cigarette dangling from surprisingly feminine lips.

(Y/N) had decided upon disguising herself as a man, when going to The Garrison that night, as soon as she had arrived in Small Heath the day before. Part of her job, her survival mechanism, was to blend in. She would simply become part of the surroundings allowing her to go unnoticed until it was simply to late for the person, she was watching to do anything except surrender. Most of the time the fact she was a woman worked in her advantage, men seemed to pay so little attention to women that she could slip past all their protection and defences with just a smile. The Garrison, however, had not struck her as the sort of place a woman could sit quietly and not draw attention to herself.

Another part of her job was research, and she was very thorough. When the Shelby’s had walked in, she had known exactly who was who. Polly was easy to spot, the strong matriarch commanding the room as soon as she entered, a woman who was used to respect. Next were Arthur and John, the eldest and the third of the brothers, both had a smile on their face and a glint in their eye that suggested they were there for a good night. Last in was Tommy Shelby himself, he was the only one whose eyes even passed over (Y/N) as he scanned the room. (Y/N) could not help but admit to herself that he was just as handsome and intimidating as she had heard and yet he was the one she was here to kill.

(Y/N) tried to never lookback in life, the past held no happy memories for her so why dwell in it? Growing up in an orphanage, where there was no kindness or love, it had been a case of become hardened to pain or break. The first person she had killed had been in self defence when she was 14, she did not even know his name. The home, if you could call it that, she had been living in at the time was being visited by one of their generous benefactors and he had decided that the cost of his donation was her. Well (Y/N) had other ideas about that and when he laughed at her asking him to stop, she had swung a log from the basket next to the fire at his head. The sickening crack and the way he fell to the floor should probably have made (Y/N) vomit, but instead she took his wallet, rings and watch and climbed out the window.

Since then, she had grown a business in an underground and dark world and what she did, she did well. There were rules of course, every business had to have rules, she would not do anything if a child would see or be at risk, she would always do her own research, get half the money upfront every time and never meet with a client face to face so they would always assume she was a man. Who would ever look for a woman when they were expecting a hardened hitman? The most important rule, however, was that she would not kill if she didn’t think they deserved it. For example, she often took care of abusive husbands whose wives had grown tired of abuse, but she had refused a job offered to her by a Lord who wanted the man his daughter had eloped with killed. The Lord had written that his daughter had been tricked and was stuck in the marriage against her will, but (Y/N) had done her research. Watching them from a distance it was clear they were in love and happy, so she had returned the money, refused the job, and warned the couple just what the woman’s father was capable of.

Being in Birmingham for over 24 hours had allowed (Y/N) plenty of time to investigate what sort of man Tommy Shelby was. His reputation was known even in London where she lived, but she had not been hired to kill him because of his reputation. There was a story, a specific reason that she had been given, to justify what she had been paid to do, and until she had checked out if that story was true, she couldn’t make the decision about whether or not to carry out the hit. She was staying at a boarding house run by a lady called Mrs Bathurst, who had thought nothing of renting a room for a week to a young woman who was in Birmingham to visit friends and attend a job interview. Mrs Bathurst was a lonely woman, who after a few gins had a loose tongue, last night she had happily regaled (Y/N) with stories she had heard at the market about the leader of the Peaky Blinders and how he had almost been brought down by a woman.

Putting out her cigarette and drinking the remnants of her whisky, (Y/N) took a piece of paper out of her pocket and a pen. Scribbling a quick note and folding it up she walked out of The Garrison, completely unnoticed by every man in there. Across the street she saw a boy kicking a ball against the end of the row of houses. Recognising him as the youngest Shelby she quietly walked up to him. “Finn isn’t it?” the boy jumped at her words turning around to face her he was baffled as to why the woman was dressed like a dock worker. “Who’s asking?” he said, puffing out his chest and standing up as tall as he could. “I’m a friend of Tommy’s, I forgot to give him this, but I’m in a massive hurry would you run it into him?” (Y/N) held out the note to Finn, her voice was so calm and confident that Finn didn’t even doubt her, but he had learnt enough to know nothing was free. (Y/N) chuckled to herself “I’ll give you a sixpence to do it. A bob if you don’t read it” Finn smiled and held out is hand “Shilling” he answered. Pulling the shilling out of her pocket and handing it to him with the note she smiled and walked off down the street.

Tommy leant back in his chair not really listening to what Arthur and John were arguing about and certainly not paying any attention to the look he was getting from Polly. It was a mix of worry and expectation and she had looked at him like it for the past year. Ever since Grace had left. Finn suddenly burst through the snug doors a look of glee on his face. “Look I got a shilling of my own,” he said holding it up for his brothers and Aunt to see, “I earnt it myself, so can I bet with it tomorrow on the horses?”

“No, you bloody can’t.” snapped Polly, Finn’s face falling. “What did you do to earn that shilling then Finn?” Tommy asked looking at his brother, a feeling of sympathy deep in him, he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of a snapping Polly. “Lady give it me, said I could have it if I gave you this and didn’t read it. Funny lady though, she was dressed up like a docker.” Finn held out the note to his brother. Tommy’s brow furrowed as he took the note.

Mr Shelby,

I have been hired to kill you. Before I decide if I will, I would like to meet you.

9am tomorrow in The Garrison, just you or I won’t come. I promise not to kill you in the meeting.

Tommy bolted out onto the street and looked around, but it was useless, there were simply to many people around to know who to look for. He had already decided though, he would be back here tomorrow morning at 9am.

@comebackjessica

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fic #peaky blinder fanfic #cilian murphy #tommy shelby x reader #by order of the peaky blinders

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delaber · 4 years ago

Text

Just Friends (Part 12)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, angst, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: Okay so I probably should’ve tagged this story with angst. Whoops. Sorry guys

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin captaintightpants58

Other Parts: See Masterlist

On Friday at 11 pm, you practically ran out the door of the lab, happy that you had managed to get so much work done within the past week. You needed some well-deserved time off and you could not wait to see Rafa and party with him and his friends all night. You had changed into the green dress that Samantha had picked out for you and was careful not to get it all sweaty as you fast-paced to the closest metro-line, hopping on the first train, eager to party.

As you arrived outside the guys' house, you could tell that it was already packed with people as laughter and rap music was booming out of the open windows in the kitchen. With a significant bounce in your step, you walked to the front door and stepped inside. The music was almost unbearably loud inside the house as you took a look around the room.

With Diggs' birthday present in hand (a bottle of Scotch and some British toffees) you did a quick scan for either the birthday boy or Rafa but was interrupted by a voice coming from the kitchen, "are you looking for Daveed? ‘Cause he disappeared into the bathroom with a girl a couple of minutes ago," a beautiful woman smiled at you. You vaguely recognised her as the girl who'd played Rafa's girlfriend in Blindspotting.

"Glad to hear that he's enjoying his birthday," you laughed, "you wouldn't happen to know where I can find Rafael?"

The girl's eyes widened, "Ooh! You're the British chick that Rafa's been on and on about for months now!" she presented her hand to you, "I'm Jasmine."

You shook her hand but your mind was elsewhere, "Rafa's been on about me... for months?"

"Yeah! I first heard about you way back in November at our annual Thanksgiving-party. He didn't know how to woo you," Jasmine smiled warmly, "and when I saw him again on Christmas day, he was still talking about wooing you even though he hadn't seen you since."

"You're kidding me!" you laughed.

"Nope!" Jasmine joined you in laughing, "he was clearly wounded by how completely uninterested you were," she chuckled.

"Aw, that poor little famous man!"

"Yeah it does get to his head sometimes. So it's really great when someone like you finally shows up and forces him to take it down a notch."

"Always happy to kindly pick him apart," you joked.

"Oh, you did way more than that!" Jasmine smiled, "to this day he will not shut up about you," she groaned playfully, "what happened? Did he finally drop by your house as we all advised him to do?"

"Nope," you shook your head with a low chuckle, "we actually bumped into each other randomly at new years."

"Ugh, I knew he'd chicken out!" Jasmine sighed, "Well I'm glad to hear that it worked out anyway - even though I have to admit that it's slightly hurtful that he didn't take any of his friends' advice," she smiled, "especially since we all told him to do the same thing; just leave a damn note."

Although you were flattered that Rafa had been talking to his friends about you even before you'd bumped into him again on new years, you had to admit that it was mildly surprising too. You were slowly realising that Rafa may have downplayed exactly how much he had thought about you in the weeks between your first and second encounter.

Jasmine's voice brought you back to reality, "You got him good," she laughed, "I don't think he's had such a challenge in years! It clearly humbled him that you didn't throw yourself at him at the first chance you got. We all adore you for leaving him desperate for more on the curb."

"Glad to be of service!" You laughed as well, already fond of Jasmine. She seemed just as carefree and bubbly as Samantha.

"Why don't we go see if we can find him? I know he's been dying for you to get here, looking at his phone every two seconds," Jasmine smiled at you.

"Yeah, I've been looking forward to it too," you smiled.

"I think he's playing beer pong in the living room."

You put down Daveed's present on a small table and followed Jasmine to the next room where most of the party goers were either dancing, talking in clusters, or playing various drinking games. Just as Jasmine had predicted, Rafa was playing beer pong with a group of people looking excitedly at the game unfolding before them. Rafa was in a light shirt and black slacks, the golden bracelet he always wore swung loosely around his wrist. His hair was in its normal slight swoop, the stubble on his chin a bit longer than you'd seen it before. He looked damned good as he was laughing with his friends.

"Hey Casal!" Jasmine said and gained his attention.

Rafa looked up at her with an expectant look on his face, clearly waiting for her continue speaking. His gaze quickly flickered to you, and when your eyes finally met, he had the same reaction as the night you'd met on new years eve; eyes softening significantly, smile slowly cracking on his face until his mouth was spread as wide as it possibly could, a hand flying to his heart as he took in your appearance. Without breaking his eye contact with you, he padded his teammate on the back and mumbled something to him before he stepped over to you, immediately pulling you tight against his chest.

"Hi," he whispered softly against you, "fuck, you look amazing," he grumbled, "I love that dress," his hands slid over your back and came to a rest just above your hip bone.

"Thanks. You look very handsome," you threw your arms around his waist, and looked up at him, almost wishing you could kiss him.

"Is it the beard?" he smiled, a slight growl to his voice.

"Yeah, you look almost grown-up," you chuckled, "where's the snarky boy from the bar?"

"Oh, he's long gone," Rafa winked down at you before he let you go when his teammate shouted his name.

"Hey, why don't you go make yourself a drink and I'll join you shortly?" he smiled, and sent Jasmine a look that silently asked her to take care of you.

"Come," Jasmine tugged on your arm, "I could use a drink as well."

You reluctantly left Rafa to go back to his game of beer pong and followed Jasmine to the other end of the living room. You both mixed a piña colada from the self-service bar, and sat down in a vacant spot in the sofa.

You looked around at the rest of the people in the sofa area, eyes almost immediately interlocking with the man you had met in the living room as you had snuck out the door on January 1st. He looked at you playfully, "Oh hey! I almost didn't recognise you with your clothes on!"

"Oh god," you groaned and laughed in the hopes of shrugging off the embarrassment you felt at the thought, "Definitely not my finest moment!"

"You don't say," he laughed and filled Jasmine in on what had happened that morning. Apparently, they knew each other as well.

"You walked out on Rafa on new years day as well?" Jasmine chuckled, "No wonder he was so grumpy when I called and wished him and Diggs a happy new year."

"Oof, you should've seen him when he found out you'd snuck out the door," the man sent you an anxious smile, "he was not happy! ...But you made up I'm guessing," he said, still smiling widely, "seeing as you're here and all."

"We did," you nodded, slightly embarrassed by how all of his friends apparently were involved in your situation but you shrugged it off with a joke, "so he only uses his friends to unload when he's frustrated? He hasn't even gotten around to tell you all about the happy ending and our rekindling friendship," you smiled.

"Yeah, he's a dick," Jasmine chuckled.

Sofa-man laughed, "Nah, we can take it. We all know that he's just insanely private about the women he fall in love with."

"The women he fall in love with?!!?!" You shrieked but no one really seemed to hear neither your voice nor your heart that was beating like crazy in your chest.

Rafa was in love????

"Oh come on," Jasmine rolled her eyes at sofa-man, "He's not private at all! He just hasn't had anyone to tell us about for years! You know Rafa. He's a big softie posing as a tough guy."

"Yeah, well that's true," the man laughed, "It's actually quite nice to finally meet the woman who was able to tie that boy down."

You felt yourself going dizzy. This was a lot to take in. Did you already mean as much to Rafa as his friends were implying? You were aware of the fact that he was insanely sexually attracted to you and that he was fond of your company - and if you were completely honest with yourself, you also knew that Rafa had a major crush on you but by the way his friends were talking about it Rafa had fallen in lo-

"Heeeeey!" a man behind you broke your stream of thoughts as he put his hands on your shoulders, "you came!"

You looked up to a smiling Daveed who looked quite tipsy.

"Daveed!" you did your best to look excited as if the news that Jasmine and the other guy had broken to you a few seconds before hadn't toppled you, "happy birthday!"

"Aw thanks," he hugged you, "did you say hi to Rafa? He's right over there," he pointed to an overly-confident Rafa who was juggling two ping pong balls.

"Yeah, we just came from over there," Jasmine laughed from beside you.

"Oh Jas!" Daveed said excitedly as if he'd only just realised that she was there, "I see you've finally met Rafa's girl!"

Before Jasmine had even had the chance to think of an answer, you swooped around, "not his girl," you pointed at Daveed and said for what felt like the millionth time since you'd gotten to know him. "I'm not Rafa's girl," you looked back at Jasmine and the man from January 1st too. They both shot you weird looks.

"Oh, trust me. You're his girl," Daveed snickered, apparently not catching on to your tone.

"I assure you I'm not!" you smiled sweetly, "we're just friends. Please stop calling me his girl. We’re friends,” you were aware that your voice was sounding desperate and pleadingly.

The smile finally disappeared from Daveed's face when he heard your tone of voice, "Are you sure Rafa's aware of that?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"He knows!" you nodded to convince him.

"Uh, that's not really the vibe he's been sending," sofa-man said quietly from behind you.

You looked between the three friends, all of them sending you concerned looks.

"Uuuuh.... I... I need to run to the bathroom real quick," you said suddenly and stood up from the sofa, grateful that your feet took you away from the conversation without you really having to steer them. They walked in the opposite direction of the bathroom, steering towards the pool area outside instead. Air! You needed air!

You quickly walked by Rafa and his group of friends playing beer pong, praying that he didn't see you, but luckily it seemed as if he was far too concerned with the last cup standing in front of the opposite team to notice anything else.

Quickly, you opened the door to the outside, snaked your way out and slid it soundlessly shut behind you. You sat down on a bench overlooking the pool thinking about what Rafa's friends had said. Was he really so smitten with you? You couldn't decide whether you felt happy or suffocated. You were going home in a week for crying out loud! If Rafa had fallen in love with you it would complicate things a bunch! You cursed yourself for having played along for so long when deep down you knew that it was bound to happen to at least one of you. You felt like a bloody idiot!

Although... if you were completely honest with yourself, you had to admit that Rafa wasn't the only one who was smitten; you had fallen for him pretty hard as well. You had tried to fight it relentlessly but in the end his sincere nature and sweet gestures had made cupid shoot heart-shaped arrows at you. You thought of the last couple of weeks and how hard it had been for Rafa to keep his hands to himself. It had been quite sweet how involuntary it had all been and how he had practically touched or kissed you at every chance he got. He just couldn't help himself. The thought alone of his helpless, wandering hands made the butterflies flutter awake in your stomach. And you realised that even though you had fought hard to avoid it, you were actually crazy in love with him too. It felt as if you were high as you finally let yourself indulge in the feeling of being in love with him. The feeling ended abruptly, however, as you realised that the two of you didn't have a happy ending. That you still had to go home. That everything was indeed screwed.

Your train of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of the door behind you sliding slightly open before it was closed again. Not two seconds later, you were joined by Daveed who sat down next to you.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked you as he put a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Yep!" you said a little too chipper to sound believable.

"Is it Rafa?"

You didn't know why you had felt the need to pretend in front of Daceed, so you immediately let down your guard, "how'd you guess," you sighed unenthusiastically.

"What'd the idiot do now?" he too sighed.

"He didn't do anything."

"What are you sitting out here all sad for then?"

"Because I just had an epiphany," you looked up at Daveed.

"An epiphany?" He sent you an amused smile, "sounds interesting. About what?"

"About Rafa," you squinted at him as if the sun was blinding you, "I think we're in love..."

Daveed's smile grew wide, "oh, great! So you finally admit it? He's going to be stoked!"

"It's not exactly great news..."

"Why not?" Daveed laughed, "when is being in love ever bad news?"

"It is when one part is leaving the country in a week," you shot him a pained expression.

"Oh. Yeah," Daveed said slowly, his sassiness visibly dropping to zero, "That part sucks, I know."

"Yep!"

"Which is why I don't understand why you aren't in there soaking up every last minute you have left with him."

"Ugh," you buried your face in your hands, a small desperate laugh escaping your lips, "because this is so complicated. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm usually so in control!"

Daveed laughed, "well I for one know that Rafa has been desperate to get you to drop the act and just smooch him already."

"Oh my god," you laughed into your hands, "I can't believe he's even involved all of his friends. Jasmine and that guy you were hanging with on new years day knew exactly who I was. They told me that Rafa's been ready from the beginning because I was so dismissive towards him."

"Yeah, you spellbound him," Daveed laughed.

"Did I bring this upon myself?" You squinted up at Daveed.

"You're putting too much on your own shoulders. Rafa knew from the get-go that you had to go back to Europe after a couple of months - granted, at first, I think he just saw you as an interesting fuck, but he could've stepped out when he realised that he wanted to hold you tight and buy you hotdogs and what not," he elbowed you with a laugh.

"Yeah... yeah you're right. Do you think he'll handle it alright when I go fly back home?"

He smiled secretively, "he's probably gonna go full emo."

You looked up at Rafa's best friend who you knew would have his work cut out for him, "sorry..."

"Not your fault," Daveed laughed, "and I'm guessing that you'll still keep talking and maybe fly back and forth when you have the chance. I can handle emo-Rafa if you just handle happy-Rafa."

"Sounds like a fair distribution of roles," you laughed before going all serious, "what do I do now?"

"You tell him of course," Daveed smiled brightly, "and you two just enjoy the upcoming week. I'll find somewhere to stay so you can have crazy monkey sex all over the house without having to think about the cock-block of a roomie," he winked at you.

"You truly possess big 'best mate'-energy," you laughed.

"I do," he nodded.

You smiled at him for a second before the seriousness of the situation hit you again, "wow, I wish I wasn't so..." you couldn't find the right word.

"European?" Daveed finished.

"Yeah," you chuckled, "if I didn't live so fucking far away from here, it'd be a completely different situation."

"I know," Daveed said and hugged you, "cheer up. It's gonna suck for a while but you'll find a way."

"Thanks," you mumbled into his shoulder.

You were still hugging when you heard the door slide open behind you.

"I thought I saw you two out here," Rafa's voice called happily when he stepped outside.

Daveed slowly let go of you, allowing you to turn around and face Rafa who had a large grin plastered on his face.

"My best friend and my... other friend," he smiled drunkenly, "what a sight."

"I'll give you two some privacy," Daveed said with a wink before he went inside.

Rafa took Daveed's seat next to you, immediately pulling you close, "why were you and Diggs sitting out here all alone? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you smiled up at him, "yeah, everything's good."

"So you don't know why Jasmine looked at me all worried just before?"

"I kind of ditched her," you sent him an apologetic look.

"Aw, you don't like Jas?"

"I do! I just had to get some air and clear my head," you smiled.

"Yeah? Long day at the office?"

"You have no idea!" You laughed, "I hope you had a better day than I did."

"Mmh, I'm having the best day," he buried his face in your neck, "It's Diggs' birthday and you're here with me and I'm just having a really, really great night."

"Alright," you laughed, "well, in connection with that, I have something to tell you that I hope will make it even better," you grinned while he nuzzled against your neck. He was being really cute and you couldn't help but laugh at him, "this is a big deal, could you not act like a lovesick puppy right now?"

"No," he kissed your collarbone, "what do you want to tell me," he chuckled drunkenly.

You took a deep breath, "Rafa -"

"Mmmh," he interrupted you with a growl as he licked his lips, "I love it when you say my name," he grinned up at you.

"Be serious for once!" You laughed, "I'm about to blow your mind over here!"

"Mmmh, can't wait," he smiled, lips inching closer and closer to yours, his eyes glistening in the dim light from the pool. He smelled of beer and whiskey and it made you feel both adventurous and safe at the same time. His right hand was warm against the back of your neck as he closed the distance between you, his lips moving slowly and sensually against yours while his left hand was stroaking your thigh. He was humming slightly as he moved his body closer to you, the hand he had on your neck travelling to the middle of your thoracic spine where he pushed slightly, bringing your torso even closer to his. Kissing Rafa and finally allowing yourself to do so without feeling bad about it felt more amazing than you had ever imagined, and you felt your heart explode in a heap of colours as you both poured yourself into the slow kiss. All the nervousness you'd felt only moments before was now gone, and you suddenly couldn't wait to tell him that you were in love with him. Slowly, you pulled your lips away from his, earning yourself a small whimper from him.

"Rafa," you tried once more.

"I know, I know. You don't have to say anything," he stated flatly with a smile, his words a bit slurred from the alcohol, "I already know what you're gonna say."

"You do?" Amused, you arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah," he smiled confidently, "you're gonna call me out for kissing you and for wanting to fuck your brains out, and you're gonna remind me of your code and the fact that you're leaving in 7 days and blablabla," he said cockily, "and because I care about you, I'll pretend that I care about your code, so I'll tell you sorry and that I'll be on my best behaviour, and you'll accept my apology and I'll patiently wait for the next opportunity and start all over again until you finally say to hell with it all and act like you really want to. And around it goes," he smirked, his lips suddenly close to yours again, "does that sound about right?"

You blinked a few times while his words settled in your brain. Did he just say what you think he did? "Wait what? Hold up Rafa. Back up a second; You patiently wait for opportunities to overstep the boundaries of the friendship that we both agreed on? You keep pushing until I say to hell with it and let you do whatever you want?" You repeated with closed eyes, wondering if you'd understood him correctly, "are you saying that you did all of those more-than-friendly touches, and hugs, and kisses on purpose? That you were in fact able to keep your hands to yourself but you pretended not to be so you could make me say 'to hell with it?'," you looked at him rather unimpressed.

"I wanted to win you over," he shrugged with a crooked smile, "did I manage? It feels like I managed," he snickered. He did not look as cute right now as he had done only seconds before, the smell of beer and whiskey suddenly a tad bit sickening.

"So what you're saying is that you lied and pretended to be interested in being friends with me when in reality, all you could think about was planning your next move so I'd let you screw me?"

"Aw, come on. You're making me sound like a villain," he groaned.

"Rafa, let me get straight with you," you said sternly, "Don't you understand that I made those rules so this wouldn't happen?"

He finally seemed to understand the severity of the situation, "so what wouldn't happen?" He spoke in an offended tone as he straightened up.

"So we wouldn't fall for each other! And now I find out that you had an elaborate scheme to get me to throw myself at you when I told you specifically that I was not interested in that? What kind of a sociopat does that?" You stood up from the bench, anger bubbling more and more in your veins as you slowly realised what he'd done, "what the fuck, Rafa?!"

"You think I did it completely for myself?" He asked calmly but with offence still staining his tone of voice, "you think I did it to somehow lure you into sleeping with me? You really don't see that I did it because I thought you deserved to listen to your instincts for once instead of doing what you think is the right thing to do?"

"You had no right!"

"Hey, don't you dare put all the blame on me!" His voice was raised slightly as he too stood up from the bench, "you were just as bad at keeping your hands to yourself as I was! Inviting me up for tea and fucking cuddling," he spat.

"I had one weak moment!" You held up your finger.

"Oh don't give me that shit! You had several! How about kissing me in the living room after the concert? And a few days ago in Diggs' car? Or masturbating in front of me - or even whipping out your tits in the bathroom when you know I'm crazy about you?"

"That's the problem, Rafa! I thought you were just sexually frustrated! Had I known you were bonkers about me this whole time, I wouldn't have allowed it to come this far!"

"Oh you wouldn't have allowed it?" He said in a wild tone of voice, "well I'm fucking sorry for having my own free will. As if I need your permission to fall for you."

"I can't believe that I got caught up in your web," you scoffed. Mostly to yourself, "I mean; I knew you were dangerous! I knew you'd have the ability to smooth talk your way into my heart - but never in my wildest imagination did I think that you'd screw me over and do all of this on purpose to get me to fall for you. What did you do it for? Did you do it to check off the girl who rejected you? Self gratification? Bragging rights to your mates? A couple of weeks of sex? What Rafa?"

"Oh fuck you," he spat, "don't give me that shit when you're clearly just as crazy about me as I am about you."

"I'm not sure I am anymore," you said rather childishly.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that so you can fuck off back to England without ever having to think of me again," he panted, "is that what you want? Is that really what you think is realistic? If you think you can put me in a box labelled 'my PhD-trip to California' and never think of me again, then you're clearly not as clever as I thought you were. Do you really think that just because you've tried to stay abstinent, that you could leave every thought of me across the ocean?" His voice broke as he took a step closer to you.

"I don't know what I thought," you said calmly, eyes piercing through him, "clearly, it was a mistake to engage in anything with you."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down so he could be rational, "look, I'm sorry if I tricked you. It really wasn't my intention and I clearly made a mistake and you got hurt. I just need you to understand that I didn't do it on purpose; I just wanted to get you to act on your feelings instead of staying in your head. I just wanted you to enjoy your time here. With me."

"You ruined it, Rafa," you said slowly, "I don't care if you hurt me on purpose or not. You still did. You manipulated me."

"Baby come on," he croaked, his voice cracking.

"I'm not your baby," you whispered.

You looked at each other for a few seconds, his eyes drunk and hurt. "Is this is then?" He croaked with desperate hands gesturing to nothing in particular, "do you really think that my actions are so unforgivable that we can't see each other anymore?"

"No, it's not unforgivable. I just don't see the point in forgiving you when I leave in a bit anyway."

"You're breaking my heart," he said quietly.

"You broke mine first."

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #rafael casal imagine #smut #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys

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onelastbreath-writes · 4 years ago

Text

I Spy

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Brief mention of bad(abusive/manipulative) parents, general adult topics, swearing.

Summary: You meet a cute guy at a bar, you date, you fall in love, and oops, it turns out you’ve both been lying about your careers. Classified only stays classified until you get assigned a mission together. (SpecOps&Spies, with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Hey guys, I was bad and started another fic. Whoops. This one is for Triple Frontier because I love that soft boi Francisco. The flavour of this fic, the vibe if you will, is basically the spiderman pointing meme. I’ve vaguely set the timeline to like mid-2000s? so I’ll be trying my best to stay true to technology and aesthetic of the era. There was so much denim. Anyways, that means I’m trying to write for about a 27-33 year old Frankie and a similarly aged reader. I don’t see this series being more than a couple chapters at best, so it’ll be short and sweet. Also, like, very little angst if I can help it; I just want this one to be a good, cute, fun read. Hope y’all enjoy! Xoxo

[AO3][Masterlist]

“So, you’re coming out tonight, right? You’re not busy or anything?”

“Please don’t say it like that, you know how busy work actually is. And I’m a grown woman; if I didn’t want to go to a shady dive bar with you and your very loud friends from the office, I’d say so,” You loved your best friend, and you missed spending time together, but you really couldn’t say the same for her co-workers.

You had nothing against the women she worked with, and you found that they were all perfectly lovely and usually quite fun to be around… it was just that when the alcohol came out, the volume control and verbal filters disappeared.

You wouldn’t say that barhopping was what you’d prefer to be doing tonight, along with more or less babysitting your friend and her friends, but you didn’t know when you’d next be able to squeeze in a night off to just hang out and have fun, so this was happening. You would laugh and smile and keep the drunk secretaries from going home with questionable people, and then you would look back on your ladies’ night with fond memories until you could eventually attend another.

You had known when you picked your career that it would be an around-the-clock, all-day, every-day sort of thing. You never deluded yourself into thinking you would have much of a social life or long-term relationships. Most partners, hell even most friends, would have a problem with you jetting off for weekends, or disappearing for days at a time under mountains of paperwork and appointments.

It just made your best friend that much more important to you. You’d met as kids, went through years of school beside each other, hung out, did stupid teenager things and then stupid young adult things together. You’d cried and laughed and fought and made up a million times, you’d gone to different colleges and still kept in touch, moved away, moved back, and you were still going strong. She was your ride-or-die, your anchor and your parachute and everything in between, so if you could use some of your precious, hoarded, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it time off to see her, that’s just what you’d do.

“You should take some of that fire, and direct it at your boss. Tell him no for a change. I’d love to see his face at that!” She meant well, always trying to look out for you and your health when it came to your beyond demanding job. You weren’t even allowed to tell her a fraction of what you were doing in your professional life, and she knew it, but that didn’t stop her from being ready to throw fists at your employer at a moment’s notice.

“One does not simply tell the über-rich that they don’t need to fly to Paris, again. Being a PA is a full-time nannying gig, except your charge is an adult who can argue when you say no, and you cannot put them on timeout when they’re being a brat. Where he goes, I go, and unless something drastic happens, it will probably continue on like that for a while.” She laughed at your jokes, and your heart hurt a little less at her glee. You knew she would never give up on you or blame you for your work being unpredictable, but that didn’t make the sting of last-minute cancels and missed outings hurt any less, for either of you.

“But it must be nice, just getting on a plane and going somewhere amazing at the drop of a hat. Travelling the world like a superstar, meeting people, having amazing adventures with mysterious strangers…”

“Easy there, Mamma Mia, your wanderlust is showing. And I’d take you with me in a heartbeat if I could. You were born to be a jetsetter, not to be stuck in this town with nothing but the office cubicle beside you to stare at. And I still think you should apply for one of those immersive culture grants you keep mooning over. They’d be fools not to fund your writing expedition!” She was an incredible person, three full degrees to her name in the time it took a normal student to get one, and a brain that could run miles around the rest of the professionals in her field. But she was tethered to this quiet backwater town, and she wasn’t free to fly like she deserved.

“You know I can’t just… go, like you can. My mom, it’d just break her heart… I don’t want to leave her alone, not after Dad,” You honestly doubted that you’d ever meet a woman more horrible and undeserving of her own daughter’s kindness. Helen was a parasite full of lies and manipulations and greed, and she had attached herself like a bad rash to your friend after she’d chased away the rest of her family members.

Your friend searched for the good in everyone, but you wished she’d stop looking for it at that home.

“You deserve your own happiness and freedom, and she should be encouraging you to spread your wings if and when you’re ready.” Politicking your friend was never something you enjoyed. She was the last person you wanted to use your negotiating credentials and sly subterfuge tactics against, but you wanted, needed, her safety and health more. You considered it almost bribery; dangling her dream future in front of her in exchange of being rid of the garbage in her life.

“Hey now, we’re getting way too deep into sad-drunk night conversations, and this is strictly a happy-fun-drunk night. Please leave all baggage and woes at the door, thank you!” You admitted your defeat and surrendered your verbal power point on Why Helen Needs to Disappear. You would get her next time for sure, give her the accelerant to burn down that bridge. “Anyways, the reason I called was to remind you of our haunt for the night. One of the girls, Kelly, you remember Kelly, found this adorable little hole in the wall. A total boys’ club apparently: darts, pool, sports games on the TV, but Kelly’s sister’s friend’s brother Tyler said the place was a favourite of the local army guys. So, if nothing else, we’ll at least have some hunks to look at for a while. It’ll be great!”

You jotted down the directions to the bar as she listed them, and the time you were expected to arrive there.

“Oh! And wear that cute little blue number you bought last spring; I know you still have it so don’t you dare lie. It makes your ass and legs look divine, and I think you could stand to make a new acquaintance tonight.” That Little Blue Number was buried in the back of your closet where you had hoped it would remain forever, but luck was not on your side tonight it seemed. But it did make you look, and feel, fantastic. It was just so… breezy. “And heels! Real ones, not your cute little personal assistant kitten heels. Those black strappy ones would work like a dream!” You just sighed dramatically into the receiver and agreed to her demands.

“I’ll let you go now, and yes, I suppose I can be presentable tonight, dress and all. See-ya later!”

---

Hole in the wall was right. This place was basically underground it was so on the D.L. It was warm inside though, and in the middle of autumn with so much skin on display, you could not be more pleased to get away from the chilled outside air.

You would describe the interior as comfortable with a hint of rustic; lots of warm dark wood and low lights, mixed with the soft Latin music crooning in the background and the few patrons’ conversations adding to the ambience.

All in all, it was probably the nicest dive bar you’d been to in your hometown.

Your party was easy to spot where they had claimed a group of pushed together tables towards the far side of the establishment, and you carefully made your way over to them in your tricky high heels.

You said your hellos to returning faces and introduced yourself to the new additions, and accepted the chair you were pointed to and the drink pressed into your hand.

And so, the hours rolled.

You had enjoyed two fruity cocktails and a flaming shot before you called it quits on the alcohol for the night. You still had a few hours to sober up enough to drive home safely, and you would be able to help the girls get to their rides and ways home too. You appreciated having a social drink or two, but you didn’t care for hangovers and would happily take slightly tipsy over party-hard drunk anytime. Plus, your contract stated you were on-call, always, and you could be required to navigate high-stress negotiations at the drop of a hat. It was just better to cut yourself off, then reap the consequences of your actions later.

You tapped your friend’s shoulder as you walked past and leaned over to talk into her ear. “I’m getting some water for the table; do you want anything else?”

“Mmmm, no I think we’re good for now, thanks!” She was plastered already, but she had a huge grin on her face and was laughing at her co-workers’ stories, so you considered it a win of a night. You gave her a pat goodbye and swayed your way to the bar.

But you just were not accounting for the uneven floorboards, or how much your heels affected your currently less than steady equilibrium, and before you could blink you were teetering over into a nasty fall.

“Whoa there, easy does it, muñequita” Arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into a warm chest. “Careful now, don’t go twisting an ankle in those fancy shoes.”

You certainly did not account for the man you turned around to face. Wow.

His hands glided respectfully from where he had caught you around the waist to your still bent and held out elbows, steadying you as you swayed dangerously again.

Warm brown eyes, soft brown curls, and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, and you knew that it wasn’t left over adrenaline from your near wipeout. He was gorgeous and handling you so gently, and you wanted to spend forever in that moment.

“Hey there, palomita, I’m Frankie, can I buy you a drink?”

[Next Part]

#triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #Pedro Pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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lockefanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Business Trip: Pt 25 - Club

“Come fuck me, daddy.”

She steps away from you, and with a look that could have melted steel, she takes your hand and begins to drag you away from the dance floor.

The crowd of people falls apart like the Red Sea - faces and bodies pass in a blur. Your full focus is on the young woman leading you through that crowd with a purpose, ignoring everything in her way as she drags you past people and bar stools and eventually the two large metal doors that lead into the alleyway behind the club.

The first thing that hits you is the humidity - it was Hawaii after all - but it only momentarily distracts you as Tzuyu almost immediately pulls you towards her as she leans her back against the brick of the club building. You press yourself against her, wanting, needing to feel her body against yours. Her tongue quickly finds its way into your mouth again, and you accept it, eager to continue your oral duel.

Tzuyu’s hands are already working at your belt, and before you know it she has undone your belt and jeans, pulling them halfway down your thighs, freeing your quickly hardening cock. Soon she is on her knees, and then her soft, wet tongue is on the underside of your shaft.

You always hated clubs.

You hated the loud, repetitive, “music” - if you could call the overly produced, booming electronic noise that. You hated the lack of personal space, crammed as you were in a small building that was probably built with half the number of its current occupants in mind. You hated the expensive liquor that you could’ve had for free back at the resort, and most of all, you hated the people - the douchebags that acted like they had something to prove, and the girls with makeup so thick it looked like they were wearing rubber masks.

But you needed to get away - get away from the potential storm of drama that was slowly brewing back at the resort, what with Jeongyeon’s newly revealed feelings for you on top of the storm that was the entire situation with Momo and Sana. Jeongyeon wanted you to stay a little longer and spend the rest of the day with her, and while the thought of spending the day and night swimming in a sea of cotton sheets with her tight, slim body was appealing, you knew it probably wasn’t the best idea.

You were attracted to Jeongyeon - she had a certain je ne sais quoi about her, a certain charm that was hard to define. She was so unlike any of the other girls in your life, all sarcasm and geekiness on the outside, but possessive of a soft vulnerability beneath it all. She was at once a guy’s girl and perfect girlfriend material.

This was all to say nothing of how intensely beautiful she was, especially now that she had grown her hair out a little and had begun to embrace her feminine side a little more; not that you minded the days when she rocked ice blue hair and boys’ clothes in the office. Her physical charms were only amplified in bed, when she had only her natural allure to clothe her.

And she pursued you, too - she made it known to you straight up that she wanted to be with you. She knew you were technically in a relationship with Momo. She knew Sana wanted you too, and she knew, at least on some level, of the drama between of the three of you. But she wanted you anyway, and she told you as such.

But you had to get away - clear your head and think about everything. Things were complicated when it was just Momo and Sana who had feelings for you; now that Jeongyeon was in the picture it was downright messy.

It was a real test of will, but you eventually left her room, and on your way back to your own you passed through the resort foyer where Tzuyu, Seolhyun, and Jihyo were waiting for cabs into town. Tzuyu and Seolhyun had more than simply made up - they appeared to be the best of friends now, their arms linked to one another as they watched some apparently hilarious video on one of their phones, giggling sweetly the way young women do. Jihyo stood a little apart from them, idly browsing through her phone.

Tzuyu is the first to notice you, and she smiles excitedly as you approach. Seolhyun does the same, and before you know it you are being dragged into the cab that had just pulled up to the resort. Jihyo is likewise dragged in, the two other girls insisting it didn’t make sense for her to get another ride if they were heading downtown as well.

And so you found yourself in a club in downtown Honolulu less than an hour later. You hated clubs, of course, and you made your thoughts on them known, but Tzuyu and Seolhyun were hell bent on going to one and dragging you along with them. Jihyo had originally just wanted to find a quiet bar somewhere to relax, but the pitiful look you gave her when the other girls invited her to join was super effective - and the young detective soon found herself similarly trapped in this dark, crowded, overly loud dungeon.

Tzuyu and Seolhyun soon lost themselves in the crowd, although from your seat at the bar next to Jihyo you still kept an eye on the two of them as they swayed smoothly to the beat of the music, finding some sort of rhythm amidst what sounded to you like just a series of loud booms. You couldn’t deny the smoothness of their dancing, the way their tall, slim bodies swayed to the beat, and you lost yourself for a moment, enraptured by the sight in front of you as the two girls danced the night away.

“Yeah, they’re fucking hot,” Jihyo half-shouts into your ear, barely heard against the loud booming. As you turn to face her she takes a swig of her beer, but her eyes remain glued to the two girls.

“You’re not so bad yourself, detective,” you say, and it wasn’t a word of a lie - the young woman looked gorgeous in a simple blue button up and jeans. Not exactly typical clubbing attire, considering the tiny strips of cloth that apparently passed as club outfits around here - but unsurprising considering she initially wanted to go to a bar and not a club.

“Shut up,” Jihyo says, not even bothering to acknowledge your comment by looking at you, “I look like a three day old bag of garbage compared to those two.”

You had to admit - Tzuyu and Seolhyun would’ve been gorgeous wearing garbage bags. But here, all prettied up and dressed to the nines in short, slinky dresses, they were on another level altogether. But that certainly didn’t mean Jihyo was anything to sneeze at.

“I want Tzuyu’s legs. Fuck, those thighs! And Seolhyun’s abs. And her boobs. I saw her in the pool this afternoon and almost wanted to punch her in the face. Speaking of which, I want her face. But also Tzuyu’s. Like, I want a combination of-”

“You sound like a serial killer, Jihyo. If those two go missing I’ll be sure to send a SWAT team into your basement.”

“Well now that you know of my plans, I’ll have to eliminate you.”

“You could try-”

Your answer is cut short by a hand grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you away from the bar. Once you recover you realize the hand belongs to Tzuyu.

“Come dance with me!” she says, barely audible, over the booms. She drags you to a corner of the dance floor, mercifully out of eyesight to Jihyo.

“I’m not really much of a dancer,” you half-shout into her ear. That was a lie and you knew you could at least sway to a rhythm, but regardless dancing wasn’t exactly on the top of your favorite recreational activities list.

“You don’t have to move,” Tzuyu says, suddenly bringing her body close to yours and her mouth to your ear, “just stand there, daddy.”

Her use of your pet name and the sudden proximity of her young, slim, body pressed up against yours ensures she has your full attention. The tight, short red and pink dress she is wearing did little to hide her curves, nor the hint of cleavage between her breasts.

Tzuyu wastes no time keeping her promise, and she begins to sway around you, her young body moving smoothly to the music. She circles you twice, each time pressing her tall torso against yours, pressing against you once with her chest and once with her butt, enjoying every moment of the little show she was giving you.

She stops during her third time around and presses her chest against your back. With slim hands she reaches around you and cups your crotch with her right hand.

There were probably a few hundred people in the club, but at that moment none of them mattered. The entire population of the city could’ve been watching, and that couldn’t have taken your attention away from the young woman’s hand cupping your cock through your jeans.

You reach back with your left hand to touch some part of her, and Tzuyu lets you, pressing herself tighter against you. She lets you have a good squeeze of her butt before she slips around you until you are facing her. She wraps her arms around your neck.

Your foreheads touch, and suddenly you are both swaying to the music, neither paying attention to whatever manufactured, electronic beat is booming through the speakers. You’re both dancing now to a beat only the two of you can hear. You let Tzuyu lead, and you follow, the sway of her body giving you all the music you need.

After a few moments Tzuyu breaks the contact of your head against hers and she looks up at you with those large, round eyes of hers. There is a little alcohol, a little youth, a little naivete in those eyes, and they combine into an intoxicating look of utter sexiness as she stares deeply into yours.

Before you know it her soft, full lips are pressing up against yours, and soon you are making out on the dance floor as her lips crush themselves against yours. Your tongues soon follow suit, and all pretense of dancing goes right out the window in favor of exploring Tzuyu’s mouth with your tongue as she does the same, your wet appendages swirling around each other.

The club may as well have been empty at that point - no one else existed aside from the young woman in your arms.

Tzuyu is the first to break the kiss, and you watch, intoxicated, as she licks her lips, her eyes half-lidded with the first vestiges of physical pleasure beginning to course through her young body.

She brings her mouth to your ear, dragging her lips against your jawline as she does so.

“Come fuck me, daddy.”

She steps away from you, and with a look that could have melted steel, she takes your hand and begins to drag you away from the dance floor.

Only a few minutes have passed since she pulled you by the wrist away from the bar; and now here she was on her knees in the alleyway, taking your now fully hard cock in and out of her mouth. You were hardly opposed to the audacity of it all, of getting head and likely fucking a girl in what was probably a public alley - but you didn’t give a damn. It was probably hardly the first time some drunken club goers had participated in lewd acts in this alleyway, and you had no qualms whatsoever about joining that illustrious group.

You didn’t even think, not even for a split second, about stopping her or even telling her to slow down. The prospect of a simple, quick fuck without any additional drama or baggage appealed to you, especially given the events of the past few days. Momo, Sana and Jeongyeon could wait until later. For now, all you wanted was a break away from it all - and currently that break was on her knees, taking your rock hard cock in and out of her wet, hot mouth.

Involuntarily, you grasp Tzuyu’s head with both your hands, slowly rocking your cock in and out of her mouth in time with the bobbing of her head. Tzuyu gets the hint and her hands, which were pumping the base of your shaft, leave it to brace herself against your hips. She looks up at you, her mouth still full of cock - as though giving you permission.

And so in an alleyway in downtown Honolulu, you start fucking Chou Tzuyu’s mouth.

No words could possibly describe the feeling of her hot mouth, those full lips wrapped tightly around your cock as her wet tongue presses against the underside of your shaft with each entry and exit. She knows you are taking liberties with her, knows you are being a little rougher, and not only does she allow it - she welcomes it, gets off on it.

She grunts - not a grunt of pain or discomfort - one of pleasure. The kind of grunt that one lets out when they get a taste of something they want, something they need.

For a long minute you stand there in the alleyway, bracing yourself against the club’s brick wall with one hand as your other braces the back of Tzuyu’s skull. You pump away at her pretty face, and she loves it, loves every second of it, loves every time your cock fills her needy little mouth with hard flesh.

Eventually she eases herself off your cock, and grasping it with her right hand, she lifts it and gives it a long, slow lick from top to bottom. Then she rises to her feet.

“Enough. Fuck me now, daddy.”

You turn her around, grabbing her by the waist and facing her to the brick wall. Instinctively she braces herself against it with her palms as you press yourself against her, your wet shaft pressed against the small of her back.

You reach down and pull the hem of her short dress up, quickly revealing her round, firm butt and the flimsy piece of cloth that passed for a g-string beneath it. You reach around her body and quickly slip a finger between her warm thighs, and you almost immediately feel warm juices on the tip of your finger.

“I’ve been a bad girl, daddy. All that dancing, all that sucking your cock… it made me so wet.”

“You have been a bad girl, Tzuyu. And you know what happens to bad girls.”

“They get punished.. By their getting brains fucked out,” Tzuyu answers, her words half-plea and half desire, spilling from her lips, “Please… please punish me with your cock, daddy! I need it! I don’t want it slow. I want it hard. I want it now!”

You enjoyed going down on women, tasting their juices on your tongue as their bodies writhed in pleasure on the bed beneath you; you enjoyed slipping your fingers in them, penetrating them with your long digits and feeling their warm walls wrap themselves tightly around you as their slick juices flow into your palm and their moans filled your ears. But there was something to be said about those times when you didn’t need to do either of those things - when she was so wet and ready that she didn’t need your tongue or your fingers or anything else other than your cock.

As Tzuyu rubs her round, full butt against your rock hard shaft, finding and capturing it between her cheeks and rubbing it up and down, you knew this was one of those times. Your cock is already leaking pre-cum, and it smears between her round cheeks - the sight of it glistening on her perfect skin brings a small smile to your lips.

You reach down and grasp your cock, taking a moment to line it up with her needy, wet pussy. Pushing her wet thong aside, you slide your shaft inside her.

“Oh, god, daddy!” Tzuyu gasps, with enough volume that you would’ve been worried you’d be caught if it weren’t for the booming of the club music, which was loud even here, outside in the alleyway.

You take her up on her earlier demand to get it hard and fast, and you don’t give her much time to get used to the feeling of being filled before you are pulling your cock out of her. When it is halfway out you thrust right back into her young, needy body, pressing her tight against the cold brick wall.

“Oh, fuck! Yes!” Tzuyu exclaims, “Yes! Fuck me, daddy!”

There was something so freeing, so liberating about sex with Tzuyu - sex with her never brought with it emotion, or feeling, or drama; there was only pleasure. No worrying about what would happen before or after, no worrying about how this particular session would affect your future relationship or your relationship with some other girl. With Tzuyu, there was only ever the moment, and nothing more, nothing less.

You give her a few more slow but deep thrusts, delighting in the sight of her fingers curling, trying to find purchase against the cold brick; the sight of her cheek pressed against the same wall, pleasure written all over her perfectly sculpted features; and, when your gaze drifts down, the sight of her round cheeks, bouncing and rippling with each thrust inbetween the mounds of soft flesh as you thrust in and out of her young, needy body.

Soon you are fucking her, truly fucking her, your shaft pumping in and out of her with little regard for anything aside from your own pleasure. You didn’t even give a damn how it felt for her - all the frustration, all the drama and worries in your head about Momo and Sana and Jeongyeon and Irene - it all built up inside you, and you were taking it out on Chou Tzuyu’s willing, wanton body.

The fact that she got off on the liberties you were taking on her body was a nice little side effect.

“Fuck! Fuck yes, daddy! Pound me! Use me! Fuck my tight little pussy!”

Tzuyu sounded like he was shouting, but even if she were shouting at the top of her lungs you doubted anyone more than a few feet away could have heard her above the loud booming of the club music.

Your only response is to fuck her harder, taking out more and more of your frustration with each thrust, delighting in the tightening of her slick, wet pussy around your pistoning shaft. Tzuyu was getting off on it, getting off on being treated roughly, being fucked and used. Not that you gave a damn at the moment about anyone’s pleasure but your own, so lost are you in the pursuit of some sort of outlet for the frustration that had built up over the past few days.

But you needed more - you needed to see her, needed to watch that perfect little face as it was twisted and warped with the pleasure you were quite literally pounding into her body.

The three weeks she had spent staying at your place taught you that Tzuyu loved being fucked against a wall. She loved being pinned against a hard surface like she was a painting and your cock was the nail literally drilling into her. She loved knowing your cock was literally the only thing keeping her upright. She loved spreading her legs wider and wider as you pounded her, and loved wrapping them around your waist in some vain effort to drive you deeper inside her.

And you were happy to give her exactly what she wanted.

And so you withdraw your slick shaft from her hot body, and grasping her hips, turn her around quickly so that she is facing you. Then, not giving the girl any time to recover, you reach down to her lower thighs and lift her up - pressing forward with your shaft at the same time, so that it lines up with her entrance - and with the assistance of gravity, you let her impale herself on your shaft.

“Aaannnghhhh!”

The loud shriek that escapes Tzuyu’s throat is full indication of the harsh spike of pleasure that courses through her body at being impaled on your shaft - and the short, rapid thrusts that you give her afterward only keep her from truly catching her breath as you fuck her face to face, her legs wrapping themselves involuntarily around your waist.

From this position your face is right next to her left ear.

“Fucking take it, Tzuyu,” you hiss, not even realizing the harshness of the words that are leaving your mouth until they had left it, “fucking take my cock!”

“Yes! Yes, daddy, I want it! Give it to me! Fuck, you’re so deep inside me! I… oh god, daddy, I… I’m gonna cum!”

Her words are followed shortly by her body writhing and shivering almost uncontrollably as an orgasm courses throughout her veins. Her world explodes in white, and her eyes roll to the back of her head as her mouth is held frozen in an open “o”.

Tzuyu’s orgasm pushes you over the edge as well, the tightening of her wet, warm pussy around your shaft making it impossible to hold on. Not that you even wanted to - this little session was all about pleasure, all about cumming, and using each others’ bodies to get there as fast as possible.

You push yourself as deep as you could inside Chou Tzuyu’s shaking, quivering pussy before you finally let loose, a torrent of hot, thick cum filling the young Taiwanese girl to the brim, your spasming cock nailing her tight young body to the wall as you fill it with semen.

For long moments there is only pleasure, and it gives you a wonderful reprieve from the drama in your life, and you relish every second of it as you slowly, reluctantly, come down from your high.

Slowly you let Tzuyu’s weary legs down, and as you do your shaft inadvertently slips from her body - and you both feel a significant stream of warm cum escape from her body, dripping down her flushed, slick thighs. Tzuyu is suddenly small and vulnerable, and you wrap your arms around her as she does the same. It was quick - not more than ten minutes from when she led you out of the club to when you came in her - not that the brevity of your liaison lessened the amount of pleasure that was only now beginning to fade from both of your bodies.

Eventually she recovers enough to raise her head, and the flushed afterglow of sex made the young woman look so irresistible, so ridiculously hot in that moment that you couldn’t resist kissing those perfect lips of hers, a kiss that starts out lustful but quickly becomes a soft, passionate one.

When you break the kiss Tzuyu smiles up at you, and the young girl in her returns once more. You feel a small pang of shame at having treated her roughly and with as little regard for her pleasure as you did, but you knew she enjoyed it at least as much as you, if her flushed cheeks and post-sex glow were any indication. You dig into your jeans pockets and retrieve some napkins you had stashed there from the night previous, and Tzuyu sheepishly uses it to wipe away some of the juices flowing down her long, naked thighs.

When she is done she tosses away the used napkin into a nearby garbage can before pulling down the short hem of her dress. She presses herself once more against you and whispers into your ear. Her short period of vulnerability is over - back is the sultry, utterly lustful creature, and when she speaks every syllable drips with sex.

“I want to feel some of it inside me when I’m dancing.”

With one more naughty smile, she turns and re-enters the club, leaving you in the alleyway to catch your breath as you watch her perfect hips sway as she disappears once more into the crowd.

---

“That was quick,” Jihyo says as you emerge from the alleyway to find her sitting on the ledge of a nearby palm tree garden. The smirk on her lips lets you know that she doesn’t disapprove, but she didn’t want you to get away with it without at least some ribbing.

You have no response, and so all you can do is shrug and give her a sheepish smile.

Jihyo smiles to herself with a shake of her head.

“I’ll never understand how you seem to fuck these girls at will,” she begins, “it’s like you have your own little harem of perfect little models that you fuck whenever you want.”

“I seem to recall you being one of those perfect little models not so long ago, Miss Park. And if I recall correctly, you were the one that initiated things back in the Seoul precinct…”

Jihyo gives you a sharp jab in the shoulder - and as much as it shamed you to admit, it actually stung a little. Girl knew how to throw a punch, and you suspect it was because she likely had some martial arts training.

“Anyway, if you’re done having dirty sex with young girls in an alleyway, I was going to head off to meet an old law enforcement contact of mine before Tzuyu and Seolhyun dragged me out here. I think you might be interested in joining.”

“And why would I want to meet them?”

“I think…” Jihyo begins, pausing for a little as if to consider her thoughts, “that they could lead us to Irene.”

---

“This place is more like it,” Jihyo says with a sigh of relief as she settles into the chair at the comfortable looking bar she had chosen down the block from the club. You had to admit you were just as relieved as she was to escape the club and its neverending electronic beats and the crowd of overly rowdy, overly intoxicated young men and women that frequented it.

“I hear you,” you agree as you flag down a waiter and order a pitcher. Jihyo whips out her phone, ostensibly to answer a text.

“So tell me about this contact of yours,” you begin, “and how exactly they can help us with Irene.”

Jihyo puts her phone down before looking up at you, her look suddenly eager. Whatever her plan was, she seemed quite excited to share it with you.

“Irene has always been one step ahead of us, and I think a lot of that is because we’ve been on the defensive, reacting to her moves,” the detective begins, as she accepts the pitcher of beer delivered to your table and begins to pour you both a glass, “I think it’s time we changed that. We need to go on the offensive.”

“How so?” you ask, intrigued, “Jeongyeon’s gone through the data we recovered, and she tells me there’s nothing there we can use to incriminate Irene. She was pretty thorough in making sure there was nothing that led back to her.”

“That’s true, and why is that?” Jihyo asks, pausing to let you ponder her question before answering it herself, “It’s because she probably deleted it herself before we could get to it. But all that incriminating evidence must exist somewhere – likely in hard copies, or in secured non-networked drives at SM HQ. If my experience is any indication, people like that never delete anything, in case they can use it later.”

“So hacking into their system and stealing the data that way isn’t an option. We can’t hack into a filing cabinet.”

Jihyo giggles before answering, “Nope, we can’t. The only way to get into that hypothetical filing cabinet is the old-fashioned way – by walking into the room, opening it up, and stealing the files.”

It takes you a moment to piece together exactly what the Korean detective is suggesting, but eventually it clicks. It was audacious, to say the least.

“Is that what you’re suggesting? That one of us go into SM HQ on some solo sneaking mission and retrieve the data ourselves? This isn’t Metal Gear, Jihyo.”

Jihyo smiles to herself as she takes her first sip of her pint. “It will probably be just as difficult as Shadow Moses,” she says, referring to one of the Metal Gear games, “SM has top notch security for sure. Metal scanners, closed circuit cameras, regular security checkpoints at all the major chokepoints – all manned by a dedicated, well-funded security force that is probably its own internal division of SM, and not some cheap third-party mall cops.”

“None of us have the skills or training for that,” you answer, “and even if we did, Irene probably has files on all of us. We’d be made the second we stepped onto their property.”

“What makes you think one of us will have to do it?”

Jihyo’s phone beeps, and she picks it up to view the text she has just received. She nods towards the entrance of the bar.

“Here she is.”

You turn to follow her gaze, and you are struck, momentarily, with shock at the person striding confidently towards your table.

“Hello, dear,” the newcomer says as she greets Jihyo with a friendly but not overly close hug. As she sits she gives you an amused look, as though she were fully expecting you to be there. The wickedness of her smile betrays the youthful beauty of her features.

Jihyo notices the look of shock on your face, and puts two and two together.

“Do you two know each other?”

“Quite well,” the new girl says, “we were in love once.”

You want to answer, want to say something that would set the record straight, but you are still rendered speechless by her presence – she was someone you thought you’d never see again.

“Well come now, Jihyo, you should formally introduce me to your new friend.”

Jihyo has a look of concern on her face, as though she were trying to figure out whether this new complication would affect her plans. But eventually she decides to introduce you to her friend by name.

“…and this is Im Nayeon.”

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #pov smut #twice tzuyu #chou tzuyu

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pluviophile-bookworm · 4 years ago

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AWAE 3x3 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

So I made a ginormous pause in between these again. I just wasn’t feeling up to the task, I guess. But it’s the anniversary of the premiere of AWAE, so what better day to do the penultimate one of these... Let’s just dive in because it’s been literal years since I first saw this episode and I remember literally nothing from it.

Oh my, Bash is just the best. And those baby chicks... well, I know what is most likely to happen to chickens on a farm when they grow older but... can we just maybe not think of that yet? Plus, seeing Mary keeps reminding me that soon I won’t be seeing her anymore. It’s safe to say I have mixed feelings about this cold open. Let’s move on.

Gosh, now they’re leaving Matthew alone with Delly, who is two types of people he’s uncomfortable around - a baby and a girl. But it’s fine, it will be just ‘a couple of hours’...

It is such a shame to think that Mary might have been saved... if she were white. People can be so awful. A human being is a human being. At least there are people like Dr. Ward and our protagonists who know that and act accordingly.

Oh... there’s that cute scene of Matthew showing Delly around Green Gables that I’ve seen in so many gifs... I can’t comment much on it so I’ll just sit back and enjoy. But before I go - Matthew is the best, most gentle man I’ve ever seen. He might be awkward around women and children, but he knows how to treat them right better than most people who are not awkward around them.

Oh gosh, the nappy! That kind of made me laugh out of place but, well, I just wanted to say - thank gods for Jerry and his many siblings. My boy knows how to change nappies.

Oh, they’ve got the printing press! Now that’s exciting! I feel like excitement is a good word to describe this episode, at least so far. We’ll see how I feel by the end of it. All I know is this is making me smile and I’ve really been needing that.

My, my, Ruby... I keep forgetting when it was that she got over Gilbert. Apparently it was not before mid-season, since she’s still in it way too deep.

Oh wait... is this when things began happening between her and Moody? I mean, the way he gives her his handkerchief, you’d think ever since he stopped trying to make Diana and her ‘very blue’ dress notice him, he’s been sitting back and watching Ruby from afar, hoping he can, somehow, compare to Gilbert. The best part is, in just a bit, he won’t need to. Boy, do I need a fourth season even if just to see these two develop... and for Diana and Jerry to make up, and just in general to see the kids being all grown up... now I feel like crying because we’ll very probably never get it... ok, moving on.

Anne: Sometimes life finds gifts in the darkest of places./ Marilla: Indeed. Wait, was this Marilla’s way of telling Anne she loves her? This is just the best.

The contrast between scenes dealing with Mary and the rest of the episode is just so stark, it’s jarring. It’s like, you never know the darkness someone might be sinking into while everybody else is bathing in the light. You know, everybody involved in making this episode, and the show in its entirety, made it so poetic, and yet it’s not. It’s absolutely devastating. And now Gilbert can’t even tell Mary that she’s got no more than two weeks left. This is the worst.

You know, Anne is right. Caring deeply will always be the right thing. I mean, it’s natural for Gilbert to doubt himself at this time, especially since the tragedy is happening to his own found family. You know, there’s something my mum taught me to do when I’m watching something and I can’t bear the subject matter of it - focus on the acting. And right now I’m just blown away by the superb performance by these incredible young people. But I really can’t bear to focus on the plot right now. And the acting being that good doesn’t particularly help me to detach myself from the story.

You know, tragic as what’s happening to Mary certainly is, it’s somehow lucky she has Anne in her life now that she’s about to leave her own daughter to grow up motherless. Because if only Anne’s parents had an orphan tell them what an orphaned child needs most, Anne’s own experience might have been very different. Mary is a very smart woman for realising that and talking to Anne about it. Because life is not about lamenting what we didn’t have. It’s about making sure we do what is in our power to make it easier for others if we can.

Ah, yes. Racism and ‘White Man’s Burden’ mentality are still very much a thing present here. I guess this here is the first mention of that horrible prison of a school that Ka’kwet would be sent to. This is. The. Worst.

I just can’t bear to listen to this guy. ‘Heathens’ - you mean people with a rich culture and belief system beyond your privileged straight white male comprehension? ‘Teach them all things civilised’ - you mean erase their own, I repeat, rich culture, and replace it with your white man’s ideas of civilisation? What deity fell from the heavens and made you God? And the way Rachel totally agrees with this guy, it just makes me sick. As if that guy would hesitate to discriminate against you on the basis of you being a woman! I just can’t with this. Let’s move on.

‘Be sure you marry for love. Only for love.’ Don’t worry, Mary, he will. Not before a huge, long period of confusion, mind you. But he’ll come to his senses eventually. People do stupid things when they’re young. That’s how they know they’ve lived it to the fullest.

Rachel just baffles me, you know. And Marilla, too, isn’t quite faultless here. How can you be so accepting of one kind of POC, yet so cruel to another? Then I remember their initial reactions to meeting Bash. They were not the most accepting at first. Yet they can see how they’ve now grown to accept and care deeply about Bash and Mary and Delphine. Why can’t they give Ka’kwet’s people a chance like this?

‘You may well have saved some Indians today’... Saved them? From what? Being free to practice their own culture? You know, white people can be so very ignorant... and I say that as a very white person. I’m just ashamed of everything my ethnicity has done to literally every other ethnicity.

‘I don’t wanna die’... You know, sometimes I do, and right now that makes me feel so ashamed. I should really think of Mary and also every real person who had an untimely death whenever I’m having those thoughts again. We should all learn to appreciate life so much more.

So this is the one with Mary’s Easter... this is beautiful. I might have to rescind my ‘excitement’ statement from earlier, but there is still a theme of beauty, love and family throughout this. Well, technically throughout the entire series, but especially here. I love this.

Delphine with a flower crown is the cutest thing ever...

Minnie May: She looks like a chocolate candy. I just... took notice of how the background music abruptly stopped. You know, coming from an older person, this would sound... not at all ok. But this 7-year-old didn’t mean any harm, and they realise it after a brief moment of panic in their eyes. Still... black people don’t call us, idk, butter or something. We should not compare their skin colour to chocolate.

Their singing is absolutely beautiful. But let’s be real - in a real-life situation, most of the people would be way off-key and those harmonies would be impossible to arrange. Still, for this beauty, I am willing to suspend my disbelief for miles. Also, that prayer at the end... well, I’m not Christian, but I am religious, and I know the power of a prayer as poetic as this one. However hard it must have been for Mary to know she wouldn’t live, it must have been a great consolation to know she would go in such a way, surrounded by so much beauty and love, and light. Well, that ending was bittersweet! But I absolutely loved this episode. Except for the racist parts that made me absolutely livid. It’s so frustrating to know there is still so much hate in the world based just on minor superficial differences between people. Yet it would have been even more frustrating if we didn’t have people in the world like our protagonists (and especially the protagonist, Anne). It is such an absolute shame that this show, and others like it, got cancelled over some trivial issues and wasn’t given the proper chance to develop its positive messages even further. But still, even with just the 27 episodes it was given, it was able to cover so much ground. I don’t know what to say. AWAE is just supreme.

Let’s sum up: the final weeks of Mary’s life; racial prejudice might have just cost this lovely woman, a wife and a mother, her life; Matthew showing Delly around Green Gables is the sweetest thing; the first press-printed issue of The Avonlea Gazette, with a significant typo; and thus, a ship was born; subtle ways of saying those three little words; ‘Caring deeply will always be the right thing.’; the legacy of a mother; ‘White Man’s Burden’ mentality is alive and dangerous; double standards regarding the acceptance of POC; Mary’s Easter; going surrounded by a loving community.

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tahitianmangoes · 4 years ago

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The Beast in Me - Chapter One

Pairing(s): GN!Reader/Arthur Morgan (Minor: John/Abigail, Kieran/Mary-Beth)

Summary: You never thought you'd be heading home to the ranch but after your father passed away and leaves the ranch to you, that's exactly where you find yourself. Nothing much has changed about Strawberry or the surrounding areas since you left... Apart from the rumours that there's something lurking in the woods. Something that isn't an animal at all...

Tags/triggers: Werewolf AU, Not canon compliant, gender neutral reader, mild gore, mild horror

Notes: All 3 parts available on AO3

The beast in me Is caged by frail and fragile bars Restless by day And by night rants and rages at the stars

****

You had never cared for scary stories, ghosts, ghouls and the like. You weren’t scared of things that go bump in the night and didn’t believe in the local gossip of creatures that would snatch up children who played too far from the town or strange sounds from the mountains. Ghosts and ghouls didn’t exist. People do.

****

Daddy had never really been the same since mama passed. He took it hard, real hard. You visited him twice a year if you could find the time but he wasn’t the same man who had raised you.

Maybe a part of him died when your mama had. And now the rest of him had died too.

Consumption, the doctor had said over the telephone; he’d hidden it pretty well from you, just telling you that it was the cold getting to his chest and you’d believed him or maybe you had wanted to. You knew he hadn’t wanted to worry you. The doctor said he had passed in his sleep. The ranch hand had found him the next day. It had been peaceful, apparently. You sure hoped so.

So you quit your job in Saint Denis and took the long train ride back home. Autumn in Lemoyne was very different to that of West Elizabeth. The days were still hot, the sun seemed merciless sometimes but as the train rattled into Riggs Station, it felt like you were in a different country. Night was drawing in already; it always seemed to draw in faster out west. You could feel the chill of wind that swirled around your feet and the few leaves left on the trees rustled melancholically.

There was no one else left on the train by now, most people had gotten off at Valentine so only you headed into the wood cabin that was the station, a far cry from the bustling Saint Denis station.

The clerk was busy lighting lanterns as you had walked in but he greeted you all the same. “Good evenin’. Can I help you?” “Yeah,” you replied, “do you know when the stagecoach will arrive?” “Arrive?” The clerk repeated, sounding confused as he went back behind the counter. “Well it just left not fifteen minutes ago.” You sighed before asking when the next one would come. “Not til tomorrow mornin’ I’m afraid. Where do you need to go?” “You know White Bison Ranch?” “Sure, I know it - out by Little Creek River... Wait! Are you takin’ the place over?” You nodded. You’d hoped to get there before it got too late but it looked like that wouldn’t be happening now, the sky was already bleeding black, like ink onto parchment. “Well I’m sorry, there won’t be nothin’ til the mornin’.”

“I could take ya.”

The new voice made you turn, startled. There was a man sitting inside the cabin that you hadn’t noticed. He stood as he spoke to you. “I can take you as far as Strawberry if that helps?” “It’s certainly better than sleeping here tonight.” You replied and he smiled. The man was tall and slender, his hair dark and down past his collar, his eyes a glittering hazel and kind. The left side of his face was scarred, as if he had been in an animal attack but it didn't make him any less handsome. He held out his hand to you. “John Marston.” You shook his hand and reciprocated his greeting with your name. “I’m waitin’ on a delivery from Blackwater, shouldn’t take too long now then we can get you to Strawberry.” He told you. Just as he said that, a wagon pulled up and a man hopped down, “Mr Marston? I have the medicines you ordered.” “Thanks,” John said gruffly, taking the parcel from the man almost furtively. You followed John Marston around the side of the cabin to where his buggy was. He put the parcel in the back then helped you with your luggage and then you got up on the buggy with him.

You made your way to Strawberry, the buggy trundled along the uneven road that you hadn’t been down in such a long time. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.” John said, “he was a kind man. Me and my boy, Jack helped him out with the lambing just this spring gone by.”

“Thank you... “ you replied. You felt guilty that you hadn’t been there to help; once upon a time it would have been you to help with the lambing though you remembered being squeamish at the sight when you were younger. You weren't no rancher, at least you thought you weren't. As soon as you had reached eighteen, you had left home in search of a better life and more money than what a dairy could get you. You’d headed for the bright lights if Saint Denis, not only was it as far away from the ranch you’d grown up on physically but in every other sense. The people of Saint Denis were nothing like those of Strawberry or the surrounding areas and you liked that.

You never thought you'd be going back like this but of course you had known your daddy couldn't keep on at it forever. You were the sole benefactor of the ranch and everything he had worked for his entire life… Which wasn’t a lot but it was enough for you to be able to leave your job in Saint Denis and come back home.

Home.

It felt alien. Yet as you neared Strawberry, nothing had changed that you could see. All the buildings and the people… Everything looked the way it had the day you had left.

When you reached the Strawberry hotel, Mr Marston stopped the buggy. “Here we are. I wish I could extend my hospitality to you more but I have to get home. I got my boy and my wife and my brother… He ain’t a well man and I need to help take care of him... We own the stables just outside o’ Strawberry, maybe when you’re settled in you could stop by?” “I’d like that very much. You’ve been very kind, thank you Mr Marston.” You got down from the buggy and so did he, he helped you with your luggage again before tipping his hat to you, bidding you good night and riding away.

The hotel was warm, walls were deep burgundy and a large fire was cracking in the main room, casting large, looming shadows. You weren’t keen on the taxidermied animals that were displayed everywhere, a buck, a mountain lion and most prominently a large grizzly bear that stood behind the main doors, staged reared on its hind legs with a mean look on its face.

The clerk was friendly enough and luckily there was a room available for you. “You came from Saint Denis, you say?” The clerk asked as he helped you upstairs with your luggage and showed you to your room. “That must have been one hell of a journey. Why don’t I get a bath ready for you?” “Sounds good,” you smiled.

The bath was hot and just what you needed after a long day’s travel. Once cleaned and dressed, you headed back downstairs to see if the hotel offered food. The clerk told you they did and you ordered and waited towards the back of the main room which now had candles on every table.

Towards the front of the room were two well dressed women sitting across from each other on plush sofas smoking and talking. “You tell me then, Willamina - What did Mr Jones see when he was out night fishin’ at Owanjila Lake?” One said a little hotly to the other. The one called Willamina laughed, “Mr Jones was three sheets to the wind, Francesca. He probably saw a wild boar or a buck and tried to save face when he came tearin’ back into town, scared like a little kid to his momma! What was it he said? Eight feet tall? Red eyes? Claws as long as butcher knives?!” Francesca bristled, “well, you won’t catch me going into the woods on my own, that’s for sure!”

“And rightly so, Miss Alehart,” came a man's drawling voice.

You’d been looking away, staring at the front of a newspaper that had been left on the table pretending to read it but really, listening in on their conversation but now you looked up. A man you couldn’t say you’d noticed had joined them, hovering by the sofas. He was tall, dressed in black aside from his hat which was cream, maybe in his early forties and had scraggly blond hair.

“You shouldn't go into them woods without precautions.” He told Francesca and Willamina, speaking each syllable of the word precautions quite deliberately as he reached down to his gun belt and drew his revolver quickly, aiming at the taxidermied bear in the foyer and mimed shooting it, “ya never know what's a-lurkin' out there… waitin’ for you…”

“Oh Mr Bell!” Willamina exclaimed, “don’t be so dramatic.” “Oh I ain’t being dramatic,” Mr Bell replied, his voice low and almost taking on a sultry tone. “The things I’ve seen out there,” he said gesturing to the door of the hotel, “why... It would make your blood run cold. O’ course, I could always help keep you safe… if you ever needed protection’.”

You could feel the atmosphere turning very awkward very quickly. You glanced over again. The two women had gotten to their feet “We’ll let you know if we ever need a man of your specimen to protect us, Mr Bell. Good evening.” Willamina said coldly. With that, they left the hotel.

Mr Bell didn’t seem too concerned and chuckled to himself. You were aware of his icy blue eyes on you from under the brim of his hat but you ignored him. At that moment, the clerk appeared with your dinner and you made small talk with him to keep Mr Bell at bay.

****

The next morning you took the stagecoach to the ranch where you were due to meet Kieran Duffy, the ranch hand who had been helping your daddy out over the last few years. It felt strange coming back to the ranch after all this time. You remembered the trail as if it were only last week that you had ridden it, even some of the trees seemed the same and the way the trail dipped here and there had a comforting familiarity about it.

The stagecoach pulled up to the mouth of the ranch and Kieran almost ran out to greet you. He was a skinny man, with wide, light eyes peering out beneath the wide brim of his hat. He shook your hand enthusiastically, “your daddy was always talkin’ bout you. It’s a shame you didn’t get to be with him in the end… proud man your daddy, didn’t even want to accept my help even when he couldn’t walk but three steps without needin’ to rest!”

Maybe Kieran could see that he’d been a little insensitive because his eyes widened further still. “I… I uh… He was peaceful at the end.” The doctor had told you that much. You smiled weakly at Kieran, aware that it may come off as more of a grimace. He did his best to smile back. “Why don’t I show you round? Must have changed a bit since you was last here.”

It hadn’t, it really hadn’t. The house and barn still looked the same, even down to the same white paint peeling from the exterior. Kieran showed you the animals, sheep and a few dairy cows and around the back were chickens. "Mr Watson Jr from the general store comes by on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays to collect eggs and milk,” Kieran explained.

By the side of the house was a small stable with a couple of horses inside, a palomino morgan named Cash and a black and white appaloosa called Domino. “They’re both fine horses. Cash is better for shorter distances but Domino is better for longer hauls and doesn't scare so easily,” Kieran said, patting them both fondly on the muzzle before giving each a sugar cube.

Sat on the porch was a fawn coloured chesapeake bay retriever who perked up when it saw Kieran approach. “This is Bran, he’s real good at keepin’ foxes and greedy coyotes away from the chickens.” Bran barked playfully at this, as if he understood what Kieran was saying. Kieran leaned down to scratch the dog behind the ear before looking back up at you and swallowing, “uh… I... Maybe you’d wanna take a look in the house by yourself?” You nodded at him. “Thank you, Mr Duffy.”

That smell. The scent of home knocked all the air out of your lungs and filled you from top to bottom and edge to edge. Autumn leaves, wood shavings, something warm that you couldn’t quite place. Home. Your home. The home you had grown up in and then eventually left.

It was silent inside. Still. You could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. Outside Bran barked again. You felt comforted yet also like you shouldn’t be there, like a trespasser. Your fingertips glided along the wooden bannister as you ascended the stairs and looked in your old bedroom. A knot formed in your chest when you saw that it had been left exactly the way it had been when you left for Saint Denis almost six year ago. Your bed was freshly made, as if it had been expecting you to come back some day. And now you had.

You swallowed as you crept back down the corridor and towards your parents room; the room the doctor had informed you that daddy had passed in and the same room mama had passed in eleven years prior to that. For one fleeting second, you thought, maybe you would die in here too. You shook the thought away. Silly.

The windows of the bedroom were open and the cold breeze ripped through the room so much so that you shivered. Folding your arms across your chest, you went back downstairs and outside to Kieran who offered to help you unpack.

You soon discovered that Kieran Duffy was a kind and sweet man. He lived just outside of Strawberry with his wife. He talked about her a lot, real proud of her, said her name was Mary-Beth and that she wrote novels. You were glad of his chatter, the noise filled the house and it felt less empty. Soon enough however, the night was drawing in again and he told you he had to head home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, an element of a question in the statement, “that is if you still need me to help out with the animals and such?” “Mr Duffy, what I know about caring for these animals can be written on a cigarette box. Of course I want you to come back tomorrow!” Kieran’s boyish face lit up and he smiled, “then I’ll be here bright and early. Good night.”

Kieran mounted his own horse, a flaxen Tennessee Walker and trotted down the path of the ranch and into the woods out of sight.

You managed to get a fire going in hearth in the living room, the crackling was comforting and reminded you of when you were little; you’d sit on daddy’s knee while mama embroidered and he would read to you - all sorts of stories about princesses and princes, about magical fairies or witches and people who lived on the other side of the world who spoke completely different languages. When you settled yourself in front of the fire, Bran padded over and lay down. He gave a big sigh and fell asleep. You smiled, “me too, boy, ” you said to him quietly, “me too.” **** Maybe you’d become too accustomed to the city. The wheels of wagons and horses hooves clattering on stone paths, people shouting and calling to each other and the whistle departing trains was something you could, and regularly did, sleep through but the silence of the woods was too loud. Eerie and almost frightening. You tossed and turned in your old bed, unable to drift off into a sleep that lasted more than fifteen minutes. Outside you could hear elks crying and the creaking of the trees that swayed in the wind. Animals chirped and screamed and you were reminded of those times that you were afraid as a child. You used to go into your parents room and whimper, “I’m scared..!” Your mama would laugh, “don’t be silly, sweet thing. You’re safe in here with mama and daddy.” She’d send you back to your room and you’d curl up under your blanket with your eyes squeezed tight shut, somehow the sounds from outside were louder than before. But you knew your mother must be right, she always was. You were safe inside.

It was around three o’clock in the morning when you awoke to a sound. This time it was different. It wasn’t just the scurrying of an opossum or a racoon, not even a coyote. You found yourself compelled to swing your legs out of bed, bare feet found the cold wooden floor and you walked across the room to look out of the window so you could see the rest of the ranch.

The animals were in the barn so the fields were empty. You could see the fence and the opening of the ranch, you could just make out the trail past that but the looming trees beyond that made it impossible for you to make out anything else. Maybe a flicker between the branches but maybe that was your eyes. You were tired.

You couldn’t hear the noise now, wasn’t even sure what you had thought you might see. Maybe a fox or even a wolf. You remembered there being all sorts of animals when you were younger, you’d even seen a bear running across one of the fields early one morning after daddy forgot to take in some honey mama had ordered from the general store.

Maybe you’d dreamed it. It had been a long few days. You lay back down but didn’t sleep until the sun began to filter its way through the window.

****

Kieran was a great help. You had milked the cows before but even then it was something your daddy and the ranch hands dealt with more than you. You collected the eggs and fed the chickens while Kieran milked the cows and mucked out the barn. You felt bad but he said he didn’t mind, it’s good honest work and the barn wouldn’t muck itself. You supposed he was right.

“Say, Mr Duffy,” you said to him once he was done and the pair of you sat on the porch together drinking lemonade that you had made that morning for lack of being able to sleep, “you said Bran took care of the foxes, right?” “He sure does,” Kieran replied. “Just foxes?” Kieran half shrugged, half nodded, “sometimes coyotes. He had a cougar once but I think that was a fluke… He’s good with pests, too. Rats and the like.” “Ever anything… bigger?” You asked cautiously. Kieran thought for a moment, “I can’t say so.” His large eyes met yours, “you worried about the animals at night?” He asked, “'cause that barn is secure, I swear it. Mr Marston from the stables and his brother came and did a fine job with it. It was half fallen down before then!” You nodded. “Well it's comin’ into winter soon,” Kieran said thoughtfully, “so yer won’t have to worry so much ‘bout the likes of bears - not that you see ‘em that often no more down this way. All these new ranches and houses goin’ up... The bears have gone further into the mountains. They’s more scared of us than we is o’ them.”

You nodded. You supposed that much was probably true. You also supposed that you had just been tired the night before.

Even so, it didn’t stop you from taking daddy’s old rifle down from above the fireplace. It was rusted and looked a little worse for wear. You’d never shot a gun before, never really had to but maybe it would give you peace of mind to have a gun ready. Just in case.

The next day, you rode Cash into Strawberry, your daddy’s rifle stowed on the side of Cash’s saddle. You'd forgotten how pretty of a town Strawberry was, like something drawn on a postcard. You hitched Cash outside the general store, you remembered coming here with your mama when you were younger and buying the groceries. The store had been run by an old man named Mr Watson and sure enough when you entered the store he was standing behind the counter, like he had never left. To say you were surprised to see him was an understatement; he had seemed impossibly old when you still lived in Strawberry and now he seemed even older.

He was speaking to another man who stood at the counter, “here’s everythin’ you ordered Mr Morgan. It’s good to see you out and about again, you feelin’ better now?” My Morgan, who still had his back to you, shifted awkwardly; he was a tall man, his back and shoulders broad, you could see that he wore his sandy coloured hair long. “Yeah,” he replied gruffly. “And how’s the rest of the family? Mr and Mrs Marston? And little Jack?” Mr Watson asked, smiling kindly at Mr Morgan. “Fine.” Mr Morgan replied rather bluntly. “Well you take care now,” Mr Watson said as he handed Mr Morgan his items, “come back soon, I do enjoy our chats.”

Mr Morgan permitted himself a laugh at this, short and more of a bark. The effort made him cough, though. He turned from Mr Watson, covering his mouth as he coughed. It sounded bad and you found yourself wincing as a visceral reaction. His eyes met yours, brightest blue, like the skies of your childhood summers. He was handsome enough, his features angular yet not unapproachable.

“‘Scuse me,” he apologised to you, not making eye contact and moved away from the counter. Mr Watson greeted you then his eyes widened, “my my! Is that who I think it is? Last time I saw you… Well it’s been years!” He beamed at you, “you back to take over the ranch?” He asked and you nodded. “I am so sorry ‘bout your daddy. Fine man, he was. He’ll be sorely missed.” “Thank you, Mr Watson.” “What can I do for you?” “I was hoping you could help me with this…” You put the rifle on the counter. “It belonged to daddy, I think it’s pretty old but I just need it to shoot.” Mr Watson’s white eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “my word,” he chuckled, “I don’t think I’ve seen one of these since the war. Sure don’t make ‘em like they used to! You’re right, it certainly is an old rifle indeed… I don’t think I stock the cartridges for this particular model any more, I’m afraid.” You sighed. “You could always try the gunsmith over in Valentine,” Mr Watson suggested. Valentine was at least the best part of a day’s ride away. It seemed like an awfully long way to go in the hope that the gunsmith there might have the right cartridges for daddy’s old rifle…

“Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearin’...” It was Mr Morgan, he had been checking through the parcel Mr Watson had handed him. You turned to look at him, able to search his face now. His complexion was ashen and while his eyes were certainly striking, they were also bleary. He looked exhausted. “Can I see the rifle? I might have what you need. You passed the rifle to Mr Morgan who inspected it. “Could do with some cleanin’,” he muttered to himself, “but it ain’t in too bad condition…” His voice was low and rough but has a strange kind of softness to it.

He looked up at you, eyes an arresting contrast to his pallid skin. “I reckon I might have some cartridges lyin’ ‘round if you want ‘em?” “Really? That’d be mighty helpful of you.” “I’d be glad to help you out. Your daddy was a good man. I’m Arthur Morgan by the way.” He extended his hand and you shook it, introducing yourself. “I got a few errands to run but I could always stop by the ranch this afternoon if that’s ok with you?” Arthur suggested. “I’d really appreciate that, thank you Mr Morgan.” He smiled at you now and his face changed, he looked lighter, younger, eyes crinkled at the corners. You smiled back. “Then I’ll see you this afternoon.”

You picked up a few things from the store before leaving. Once outside you packed Cash’s saddle bags and fed him a carrot in preparation for the ride back to the ranch.

“Didn't I see you in the hotel the other night?” The voice made you start and you couldn’t help but gasp and recoil away at the man who stood behind you; he had blood slicked all over his hands, down his jacket and even some flecks on his face. You recognised the face, the ice blue eyes and the straw-like blond hair.

“Didn’t mean t’ startle ya. The name’s Micah Bell, I was in the hotel the other night and remember seein’ ya. You takin’ over the White Bison ranch?” You nodded hesitantly. “I’m sorry.” Micah Bell said though he didn’t sound the least bit apologetic, “I’ve been out huntin’ y’see," gesturing to the blood all over him. “That’s the game, huntin’. You saw the bear in the hotel foyer? I killed that one. Supply almost all the meat here in Strawberry, too.” You nodded again, not sure what to say to him. You unhitched Cash and began to walk him away from the store, towards the north exit of Strawberry. Micah followed.

“So you’re up at White Bison Ranch, huh?” He asked you, speeding up to match your pace. You nodded a third time. “How you findin’ it out there on your own?” Your brows knitted together slightly into a frown, “just fine.” You replied a little bluntly. “I’m only askin’ because there’s been a few people round these parts sayin’ that there’s something livin’ in the woods. Something that ain’t no animal.” Your frown grew deeper. “Not an animal..?” You repeated almost to yourself rather than Micah. “O’ course, I don’t believe that,” Micah chuckled, “you gotta be insane if you think there’s some beast runnin’ around in these woods. Probably a grizzly or a big cat and I’m gonna be there to get it.”

You stopped a little past the sheriff’s office and looked back at Micah. His eyes were piercing and you couldn’t maintain eye contact with him, feeling like he was looking right through you.

“So what’s the fuss about a bear or a big cat?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at Micah. “There’s been predators out in the woods ever since I was a kid and even since before then… What’s so different now?”

Micah’s lips twisted into a smirk, as if he had been waiting for you to ask that. “Real weird things been happenin’.” He said, a tinge of excitement to his tone now, “first it was animals that started goin’ missin’ a few years back - a chicken here and there or maybe a family dog and everyone just assumed it was coyotes. Then some little housewife over past Diablo Ridge said she saw something a-sneakin’ into the barn one night, took her husband’s shotgun and went to see what it was… She swore it was a monster, at least eight feet tall and covered in thick black hair with glowing red eyes.” Micah laughed at the expression on your face. “Horse shit, of course! But since then, everyone wants to see this creature. Plenty of people claimin’ they have but I’ll believe it when I see it stuffed and mounted on my wall.”

“Well it’s been nice talking to you, Mr Bell.” You lied as you pulled yourself up into Cash’s saddle. “I have to be heading back now.” Micah’s smirk hadn’t faltered throughout your entire conversation. “If you ever get lonely up there, you can always come and find me.” He said, “or if you just want someone who knows how to handle a gun.” You hesitated before answering. “I’ll bear that in mind, Mr Bell.”

You rode Cash at a leisurely pace, not wanting to rush back because you wanted to think about what Micah Bell had said to you. You were familiar with people in town gossiping, wild stories spinning out of control like Chinese whispers, usually cautionary tales to stop children wandering too far from their mothers or going into the woods alone. You felt better knowing that Mr Morgan would be coming along later with the rifle cartridges.

Kieran was taking a break when you got back. He stood up when he saw you coming up to the house where he was sitting on the steps eating a sandwich Mary-Beth had no doubt made for him. He waved enthusiastically at you. “How was town?” He asked you, helping you unload Cash. “It was… Interesting.” Kieran laughed, “Strawberry? Interestin’?” You laughed too and carried the groceries into the house with Kieran behind you. He helped you put things away. “Oh!” You started as you remembered, “Mr Morgan will be coming later on today.” “Arthur Morgan?” “Yeah.” “Kinda… Surly lookin’ feller?” “Yeah.” “Hmm.”

You turned to look at Kieran who was looking thoughtfully at the can of beans in his hand. “Is… Is Mr Morgan… Bad?” You asked, feeling a bit silly to ask such a childish question but you didn’t know how else to ask it. Kieran chuckled. “No. I don’t think so. He’s just… Not a sociable person, is all.”

You were certain that this was true but it wasn’t always fair to judge a book by it’s cover.

Kieran was busying himself with the horses in the stables while you were going through some of daddy’s things in the house. You had asked Kieran if there was anything you could do to help him but he seemed capable enough of doing it all on his own and if anything, you were more of a hindrance.

It was around three o’clock when a silver dapple pinto Missouri foxtrotter made its way up the trail towards the house with Arthur Morgan astride it. You hadn’t forgotten about the handsome stranger who was coming to visit you and went out onto the porch to greet him.

The afternoon had turned colder than the morning despite the sun being high in the sky and Arthur was now wearing a longline olive coloured woollen coat and around his neck, he wore a black neckerchief. As he greeted you, you could see his breath in front of him. “Mr Morgan, thank you for coming!” “Of course,” he said to you, he looked a little better than earlier. “Why don’t you show me that rifle again?” You guided Arthur back into the house, the rifle was lying on the kitchen table. Arthur set a heavy leather satchel down on the table with a clunk and took out a few things - some boxes of cartridges and gun oil.

“It needs a decent clean before you load it up and go shootin’ at muskrats,” Arthur joked and you smiled. He showed you how to take the gun apart and how to clean it. “It needs regular care, think of it like brushin’ your horse.” Arthur pushed the rifle towards you. “Why don’t you try.” You cleaned the gun carefully and Arthur watched you. “Heard you met my brother John the other day,” Arthur said. You hadn’t been sure from the conversation you overheard in the general store whether John was Arthur’s brother or not but this confirmed it. They didn’t look alike at all, John was much leaner compared to Arthur, even their faces were completely different - John had sharp features and suspicious eyes. Arthur, while not the conversationalist had a certain warmth about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“He really helped me out when I got here,” you replied, “took me to the hotel in Strawberry, otherwise I’d have been stuck at the station all night.” A smirk tugged at Arthur’s lips, “that sounds like John.”

Once the gun was cleaned, Arthur showed you how to put it back together. “You know how to shoot this thing?” You felt a faint blush play across your face and you shook your head in response. Arthur laughed softly, “I got some time before I gotta get back… I could show you, if you wanted?” “Only if you’re sure.” There was that smile again. “I’m sure.”

The pair of you walked out to the fields in front of the house.

“You gotta stand straight and hold steady.” Arthur told you, “you gotta focus, breath slow and always pull the trigger on empty lungs.” “You sound like a seasoned gunman, Mr Morgan.” You said, you felt your heart flutter a little. Were you flirting with him? “Somethin’ like that,” Arthur murmured. “Here, let me show you how to hold it properly.”

You spent the next hour or so shooting at a few empty bottles that you had found lying around as target practice. You took it in turns, Arthur demonstrating then your turn. By the end of it, you had hit maybe two bottles celebrating each time by hopping around with joy while Arthur chuckled.

The sky had turned a pumpkin orange and the sun had started to dip below the treeline, casting large ominous shadows across the field. Kieran had rounded up the remaining animals into the barn.

Arthur turned to you, blond hair looking golden now in the dwindling sunlight, “I really must be going now.” “Why- why don’t you stay for dinner?” You found yourself asking and you had no idea why. You had no plans for dinner but you were sure you could rustle something up. “That’s mighty kind of you but I don’t wanna intrude on your hospitality any longer.” “You wouldn’t be intruding at all, Mr Morgan. I insist.” “My brother will be expectin’ me back. I should go but thank you all the same.” Arthur said, his voice soft but also firm.

You suddenly felt very silly very quickly, a hot wave of embarrassment washed over you and you wished you could evaporate. “Well... Thank you for today. You’ve been very kind and I appreciate it.”

He tipped his hat to you and went to his horse. You watched him mount it, swiftly kick his heels into its side and trot away towards the trail.

You didn’t know how long Kieran had been watching but he smiled weakly at you as you walked dejectedly back towards the house with the gun slung under your arm. “He ain’t the most sociable,” Kieran said with a hint of ’I told you so’, “but he ain’t a bad man. You sighed. “Yeah, I guess.” Soon enough Kieran was telling you that it was time for him to get home, too and you were left to spend another sleepless night in the ranch house. Completed fic on AO3

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #reader x arthur morgan #gender neural reader #halloween fic #werewolf au #writing #rdr2

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marvel-and-mischief · 4 years ago

Text

Safe Haven Part I

Title: Safe Haven.

Words: 3200

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Pero x Reader. You are the owner of a tavern in England when a mysterious stranger asks to stay in your lodgings whilst he works for the Lord of the town you live in. Soft, awkward, grumpy Pero! Post TGW (no William).

When you thought about the past eleven months, you couldn’t believe you had gotten this far. You had three wonderful, hard working women under your care. Gwen kept to herself in the kitchens, baking meat pies for your customers and keeping the tavern clean and tidy. Darcy could talk the back legs off a donkey if given the chance, but her charm kept the customers coming back and those passing through remembered to come back the next time they were near town. And Adelaide, or Addy as she was known, helped you with the business; counting money, keeping on top of the food and drink that was needed, finding new ways to attract guests to the lodgings out back.

When your father had suddenly come down with a fever, you were certain it would pass. The cold, damp nights had started to settle in, so it wasn’t unusual to hear of the townspeople getting ill. You sat by his bedside in the day, feeding him soup and reassuring him that the tavern would be just as he left it when he returned to work. And at night you opened up as usual, serving the locals who had come in for the warm fire and mead. You only had Gwen back then, so you were rushed off your feet without your father as well. When not even a week later your father had taken a turn for the worse, you couldn’t deny that maybe this new way of running the tavern would be a more permanent way of life.

The fever took your father five days after he fell ill. You worked harder than you ever thought you would have to. You not only had to quickly learn how to be a business owner, but being a woman you had to earn the respect of the townspeople. They all knew you, having grown up in the tavern as your father’s only child. The town healer helped your mother give birth to you, as a small child you brought bread from the baker, you courted the blacksmiths son as a teenager. But as a businesswoman, they were a little more concerned. The regulars that came into the tavern most nights had your back, but some of the older members of the town thought you couldn’t handle it. Some even suggested they would only support you if you found yourself a husband.

After two months, you had found your newest employee. Darcy stumbled into the tavern just as you were closing up one night, mud caking her hands and most of her dress. You brought her inside, sitting her in front of the large fire on one side of the tavern. You asked Gwen to make up a tankard of warm milk and honey and handed it to this stranger. You convinced her that if she just trusted you, allowed you to keep her safe in the tavern, you would never ask where she came from or who she was running from, and she would always have a home here. She had nowhere else to go and she had had no better offers than yours and doubted anyone else would be so kind. She agreed to work for you.

After a few weeks Darcy opened up a little more. She had travelled from Armagh in Ireland, looking for a new life away from a family that wished to marry her off to a brute of a man. She would rather have died journeying out of Ireland than be made to live the rest of her life with him. Her sweet Irish accent hypnotised anyone who heard her speak, so custom quickly picked up and so did her confidence.

Soon after that was your last employee. Addy was mild tempered, still is, when you found her covered in blankets and huddled against a stone wall in the marketplace. Her large brown eyes were flitting back and forth, her hands shaking where they clung to her only bag of belongings. The first time you tried to walk up to her she hid under the blankets and started crying. You left her an apple and a chunk of bread, not wanting to spook her any more than you already had.

The next day you went back to where you had last seen her but she was gone. She had moved to the opposite side of the marketplace and was trying to hold onto her bag which was being torn away from her by a boy no older than twelve. You had rushed over to her, yanking the bag from the boy and pulling yourself up to your full height to tower over him. With a gasp the boy ran off and you turned to see Addy with her eyes down, biting her bottom lip. After assuring her you only wanted to help, you handed her the bag and brought her back to the tavern.

Once she was comfortable with you, you realised she was literate and could help with the day-to-day running of the tavern. She was born in France but spoke very good English. She has never told you why she ended up in England but it didn’t matter. She was kind and thoughtful and worked harder than any man you’d ever met.

Once you had your team set up everything felt like it once had. People respected your position, they supported the tavern and your guest rooms were never empty.

Your day dreaming was disturbed by Darcy slamming a tankard on the counter in front of you. You raised an eyebrow in her direction, silently asking why she did that.

“There’s a new man in town,” she stated matter-of-factly. It wasn’t unusual for travellers to pass through. The river that ran through the town lead a few miles east to the sea that separated England and France. Anyone travelling from Europe would most likely have to come through your town to reach the rest of the country. So why was Darcy making such a big deal about this one man?

“Does he practice sorcery or something just as interesting?” You asked with a smirk. Darcy came from a country steeped in superstition so you knew that would hit a particular spot.

Darcy made the sign of the cross against her chest and gave you a warning look. “Do not jest. Of course not. But everyone’s talking about him. He barely says a word to anyone. Has an accent apparently-“

“How do they know he has an accent if he doesn’t speak?”

Darcy seems to think this over. The difference between Darcy and Addy is, where Addy is educated, Darcy is smart when is comes to the realities of life. She knows to keep to the clear roads and not walk through the woods when travelling to market, but she doesn’t always understand irony.

“Well… I’m not sure. He must have spoken at some point. You can’t just not speak!” She was getting flustered which made you giggle. Darcy realised what you were doing and grabbed the towel that had been hanging over her shoulder and whipped it in your direction, catching you on the elbow where your arms were folded.

“Alright alright! I’m sorry. What is it they are saying about him?”

“Just that he’s a little strange. And he has a large scar over his eye.” She shrugged and began to use the towel to wipe dust off the counter.

“A mercenary perhaps?” You had met mercenaries before. They weren’t common but they were all the same. Kept themselves to themselves and never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends.

“Do you think he will cause trouble?” Darcy was purposefully not looking in your direction. She was worried. Trouble meant fighting and none of the girls were comfortable with dealing with that.

“No,” you said sternly. You glanced down to the thick sharpened branch you hid behind the counter. You would nip it in the bud before any fighting started. You wouldn’t have the girls frightened to live here. This was supposed to be their safe space. “If I think he’s going to cause a problem I will kick him out. He may not even come in here Darcy.” You spoke softly, not wanting to spook her.

She seemed satisfied with that answer when she walked away to clean the table tops. You watched as she began to hum a tune as though the previous conversation had never happened.

“I’m going to check that Gwen is ready to open up for the night,” and with that you left in the direction of the kitchen, putting this stranger to the back of your mind.

You had opened up in the early evening, just as the sun was beginning to set. The night had been busy but not chaotic. Gwen managed to sell all but one of her pies so the three women were sat around the kitchen table tucking in. The last of the drinkers were stumbling out of the front door. You bid them a safe journey home when you noticed a man walking towards you. The lights from the tavern weren��t strong enough to catch any details until he was right in front of you.

He wore a black cape, hood up against the bitter air, and the unmistakable line of a sheathed sword could be seen poking through the material. He carried a bag over his shoulder and nothing else. You looked up as he took a step closer and candlelight showed you the scar of the man Darcy had been talking about earlier that evening.

You stood up straighter, head held high. You were not going to be intimidated by this man and the permanent scowl that seemed to be etched onto his features. His facial expression didn’t change even as he spoke.

“Do you have rooms?” Darcy was right, there was an accent. But it didn’t sound like Addy’s French accent. You had had men pass through from further afield, but some didn’t speak English at all so you couldn’t ask where they came from.

“My rooms are full.” You didn’t mean to be blunt but that’s how it came out. You weren’t lying, your earliest vacancy was in two days time but you still felt bad. This man must have walked all the way from where his ship had docked, and he hadn’t brought a horse with him. He was about to turn away when you shouted out to him.

“I have a stable.” It was the only solution you could think of. He didn’t turn to look at you but you heard him grumble something in his native tongue. You didn’t think you wanted to know what it translated to. “It’s enclosed. With the door shut it’s quite warm. Only one horse in there at the moment too.”

He finally turned to look at you. He raised one eyebrow rather high, and you thought if he just stopped scowling he may be handsome. So you gave him a small smile. He hadn’t done anything to offend you, yet, so the least you could do was be polite.

“Where can I find more rooms, camarera?” His voice was deep and his accent was strong, and you don’t know what he had called you but he sounded tired. And maybe you were too kind for your own good but you didn’t want him travelling longer than he had to when there were perfectly fine stacks of hay he could sleep on for a few hours.

“You would have to travel north into town. On foot, you could reach it by sunrise.” He seemed to be mulling it over. Was he serious? He’ll drop down in exhaustion before he’d even travelled halfway. “Come into the stable. I won’t charge you anything.”

That seemed to make up his mind because he was walking back towards you. You stepped inside to let him in before locking the door. You took him through a side door, down the side of the building and into the stables.

It wasn’t large. Could fit three horses in at a squeeze, but the current resident was lying against the large doors and on the other side against the stone wall of the guest rooms were stacks of hay.

The horse raised his head and let out a huff of disapproval when you both walked past him, but soon became disinterested when neither of you paid him no attention.

The stranger sat on a stack of hay, moving about to test how comfortable it was. He looked up and nodded when he was satisfied. There was an awkward silence for a moment before you remembered that this was your tavern and you shouldn’t be feeling nervous.

“Did you want a blanket?”

“No thank you.”

“Something to eat or drink?”

“No.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Thank you.”

You nodded and turned away to leave him alone. When you got to the door you had entered through you saw he was still sat exactly where he was. He hadn’t moved in the slightest. Was he not used to anyone being nice to him? Or was he just an awkward, angry man?

Closing the door behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You began to walk along the corridor, taking a turn to arrive in the kitchen.

The women had devoured the pie that had been left. Gwen was nearly falling asleep at the table whilst Addy had taken over the washing up duties. Darcy was nowhere to be found.

Addy saw you first, holding up a finger to the ceiling when she noticed you were looking around the kitchen.

“Darcy went to bed. Are you going up?”

For the first time that night you realised just how tired you were. You didn’t know whether to tell them about the man in the stables. Maybe it was for best that Darcy was already in bed. She would be none the wiser.

“I just need to stub the candles out in the front. I’ve let a traveller stay in the stables. Don’t disturb him. I imagine he will be gone by morning.”

Addy frowned. It wasn’t unusual to let the odd person stay in the stables. Usually poor travellers looking for work, or like tonight when you were feeling especially kind. But maybe your tone inflicted that it was unusual with this man because she looked like she was waiting for you to explain.

You refused. You grabbed some pie crumbs off the plate and shoved them into your mouth.

“Alright. I’ll stub the candles out if you wanted to go on up? I’ve nearly finished here.” She grabbed the empty plate you had just eaten off of and dumped it in the bowl of water.

You made your way towards your room, hopefully to get some sleep and forget about the man in the stables. You don’t know why he was bothering you so much. You were acting like he was a dirty little secret. He’ll be gone in the morning and you will never see him again.

You sort of hoped you were wrong.

The morning started as it always did. The birds singing and the Winter sun shone through my window.

Your room was modest. The bigger of the three bedrooms upstairs (it was formerly your fathers room). You had it all to yourself, whereas Addy and Darcy shared a room and Gwen had the smallest room furthest from yours. You had a small wooden table next to your bed which sat a candle and a ribbon for your long hair.

Across from your bed, underneath the window, was a box to store your clothes in and along the wall on the left of the room was a tin bath, the only one upstairs.

You were lucky, you knew that. Working in a tavern brought in more money than the average business in town. But with four mouths to feed you didn’t have a lot of money for long.

You were rubbing the sleep from your eyes when the memories of the previous night came rushing back to you. you remembered the strange man with the scar that intrigued you. The deep, husky voice, the grumpy look on his face, his curt responses.

You should be hoping that he’s long gone but as you jumped out of bed, quickly throwing your outer dress over your underdress and slipping on your boots you realised you were hoping for the exact opposite. You ran down the stairs, rushed through the hallway and arrived at the kitchen to see Gwen at the stove.

You couldn’t help but notice the smell of warm milk and honey in the air. You grabbed a tankard off the side and dipped it into the pan that Gwen was mixing.

“Sorry Gwen,” you muttered. You knew she’d be annoyed for the rest of the day but you’d find a way to make it up to her. You always did.

The short walk to the stables had your heart pumping. You suddenly felt stupid. He probably wasn’t in there anymore. And what if he didn’t like honey? And why did you care so much?

When you opened the door you almost bumped into him. You gasped as he jumped back, hand immediately reaching the hilt of his sword.

The hood of his cape wasn’t up so you could see his face much more clearly this morning. He had a peculiarly large nose which you found yourself wanting to run your finger along, and an unusual moustache that you never saw on Englishmen. He was staring at you, mouth slightly parted when you realised you had also been staring at him for longer than was acceptable.

You caught your breath and decided to show him the contents of the tankard.

“Warm milk with honey. Thought you might want something before you left?” You said hopefully. He was inspecting the contents as though he had never been presented with something before. It was as though he didn’t know how to respond. “You don’t have to. Just thought after a cold night, something warm would be welcome,” you shrugged and started to take it back. But he stopped you with a gloved hand over yours.

He took the drink off of you and began to sip at it. He didn’t make a face of disgust so you assumed he liked it. You were desperate to know where he was going but you didn’t want to intrude. Luckily you didn’t have to.

“Thank you, that is nice. I have to go. Work in town.” His words were to the point. Not like yours were when you rambled like a mad woman. You nodded and took back the drink he was handing back to you.

“Good luck. I hope everything goes well for you.” You smiled, and it looked like he was going to smile back but he nodded instead.

“Thank you. For the bed.” And with that he brushed past you. You knew Addy would be at the front of the tavern to let him out so you didn’t follow. You also didn’t want to make more of a fool of yourself than you already had.

You sighed and trudged back towards the kitchen. You had some making up to do.

#Pero #Pero Tovar #Pero x Reader #Pedro #Pedro pascal #fanfic #first fanfic #pero tovar x reader #pero fic #pero tovar fic #tovar #safe haven

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