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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

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Title: Quarantine: A Love Story {17}***

Chris Evans x Reader Series

Warning: Heavy Cursing, Lite Angst, Fluff, SMUT, NSFW, FILTH, Taboo Acts

LOTS OF WORDS, NOT SAFE FOR WORK AT ALL

Words: 8.5k

Note: Okay, so this is no longer a mini-series, we’re at a full-fledged series. Recommended listening for adult time is “I see Red” by Everybody Loves An Outlaw. I’d just keep the song on repeat.

I hope you guys enjoy this. If you enjoyed this LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

As always, thank you for reading!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: Q1 | Q2 | Q3 | Q4 | Q5 | Q6 | Q7 | Q8 | Q9 | Q10 | Q11 | Q12 | Q13 | Q14 | Q15 | Q16 |

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Quarantine: Day 56-

-Chris-

He was fucked. He was so fucked that he didn’t even realize when he first became unfuckable. Now he was at the deepest level of fucked; he had no idea what to do about it. God, you were beautiful, he thought as he laid beside you watching you sleep like a stalker. He’s been awake for the last thirty minutes, at least trying to reel himself in to no avail. That was how fucked he was. He couldn’t even get a grip and put things into perspective. From day one, he knew that you would be a problem for him. From day one, he knew that if he went here with you, it couldn’t just be a fling. There was no way. Here he was proving himself right. A fling was impossible with you. Just sex was not the context of your relationship. He was fucked.

You softly moaned again and rolled around the bed. You sounded like an angel--soft, delicate, and angelic. You probably were an angel, a devilish angel. You settled beside him again, still fast asleep. He laid there staring over your face as his thoughts raced a mile a minute. He went over the journey of this whole quarantine thus far until he got to last night. When he thought of the fact that on the beach last night, both of you agreed to something that took your interaction to a whole different level.

He’d never thought to go raw with anyone. Even when he was with Jessica for those five years, they’d never dared to do it. Neither of them wanted any accidents, especially considering both of their careers were in the beginning stages. With everyone after her, it was a definite nonfactor. He was religious, and the thought of not wearing anything gave him anxiety. However, last night he had none of the qualms he usually would. It was as if he was ready for it and one with his decision. At the time he didn’t think about what it meant, how could he when he was feeling so many new sensations, so many new feelings. He’d felt things he’d pushed to the side plenty of times, felt things that he’d worked overtime to bury. He now suspected there would be no burying it after last night.

“I trust you.”

His words echoed in his head. He couldn’t believe he said that and much more that he meant it. He did trust you. He trusted you as much as he trusted Scott, as much as he trusted his mother. He kept his circle small for a reason and. When you became friends with Scott, he’d kept you out of it because he knew you’d become important to him. He knew you were different and knew that if he allowed you in, you’d burrow into him and hatch until he was infested. This was another thing he’d proven to himself as true. A lot of the things he’d suspected he’d proven true.

“You deserve the better me,” he whispered as he softly grazed across your cheekbone.

He’d always known it. It was one of the main reasons he’d stayed away for so long. He knew it, and usually, he wouldn’t care to give less, but with you, he wanted to give more and be more. He had to be sure he could give more. Your leg wrapped around one of his, and you moaned again. Every moan he heard, it sparked the familiar fire in him that he knew would lead his toes curling from the way you took him. It hadn’t even been a week since your first night together, and he was already addicted to you.

When he looked to your leg, the sheet was gone from your bodies. It was now loosely draped across your ankle while your bare thigh was over his hardening desire. The yellow on your toes made you look as if you were on a tropical vacation rather than quarantined in Cape Cod. He loved the way your legs looked and felt entwined with his. Again you moaned while rubbing your inner thigh against his cock and softly rubbed your hand across his chest down his abs. Holding his breath, he waited for your hand to dip lower to where he wanted it, but it stopped where his hip was. Groaning, he stretched his body as he tried to douse the intensifying fire within him.

“Mmmm.”

Your eyes fluttered open to gaze at him, but it looked like you were looking right through him. He wanted to know what you were thinking. After a few moments, you scrunched your face and groaned and tried to turn your face away.

“Oh my god, Chris,” you whined. “You’re here.”

He turned his body with yours and moved onto his side. “Here? You were just staring at me.”

“I know,” you mumbled into the pillow.

“What was that?”

You turned your face sideways to look at him while using part of the pillowcase to cover your mouth.

“I know. It’s just been a while since I woke up beside a man. Don’t even get me started with it being a first waking up beside a white man.”

He snorted and shook his head as you giggled. “ You love making fun of me, don’t you?”

“You make it so easy.” you moved a little, but he kept your thigh trapped between his.

“What’s going on with--,” he motioned to the pillowcase you were using as a mouth mask.

“It’s morning.”

“Oh, I know it’s morning, and I know you can feel that I know it’s morning.”

Again you giggled. You were so fucking adorable he couldn’t not touch you. He rolled onto you and settled between your spread legs. The feel of how warm you were almost had him thrusting forward to join your bodies together. He had to practice some restraint, no matter how difficult it was. You kept your hands up, holding onto the pillowcase at your mouth. You moved a little, which gave him the angle he wanted. Your moan was sultry, and it had his cock pulsating against you. It was like a chain reaction between the two of you. One thing set the entire chain effect off until neither of you could resist.

“What does it’s morning mean?”

“Morning breath,” you answered. He snorted.

“Morning breath? So you can smell my breath?”

You nodded and put your hand over his mouth before you giggled. “You’re lying.”

He tickled you, which had you dropping the pillowcase as you laughed and writhed on the bed. Each move you made had your bodies rubbing together. After a few moments, you both settled down him holding your hands to the pillow your head rested to.

“I don’t care if it’s morning or not.” He pressed his lips to yours for a soft kiss that slowly intensified and increased in urgency. In seconds the two of you were moaning together and rocking against each other. Pulling away before things got out of hand, he stared down at you.

“So it’s been a while since waking up next to man, let alone a white one. Would you say you--like waking up—beside me?”

His heart unexpectedly began racing thinking of the possibilities of your answer. You could very well say you hated it or preferred waking up with him.

“Eh—I mean, you’re palatable.”

The look he gave you must have been a comedic one because you busted out laughing. “Palatable? That’s all?” Again he tickled you but didn’t stop even when you began screeching loudly. He dipped his hand lower and gripped your thigh, pressing it back onto the bed, making him groan when he thought about your flexibility. Just like that, he was rock hard and ready to bury himself inside of you.

“Christ, you’re going to turn me into a horny old man.”

You rolled onto him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Turn you? Babe, you’re already a dirty old man.”

He heard what you said, but his brain stuck to you, calling him “babe.” Again his heart began to race; only this one wasn’t because of anxiety or fear. It was from excitement. Did you mean it? After searching your eyes for a few moments, he kissed you. It was a kiss you reciprocated. You moaned together until you’d managed to straddle him, pressing your folds along his shaft.

As the kiss turned from sweet and teasing to intense and passionate, you rocked on him with intent. Goosebumps broke out all over his skin, and the more time that passed, the more he wanted you and wanted from you. When you sucked onto his tongue, he lost his shit and got handsy. He gripped your hips and physically lifted you while turning your body around so your sex was over his face. Your squeal was the sign of your shock.

“Chris, what are you doing?”

“I’m hungry.”

That was all the explanation he gave before he buried his face and began his feast.

“Oh fuck!” You dropped your head to his shin and squeezed his leg as if you were afraid to topple over.

You tasted incredible. He knew now that he wouldn’t ever get tired of tasting you like this. Every swipe or dip of his tongue had you gasping and squeezing his legs harder before every curse in the dictionary tumbled from your lips.

“Shit, Chris.”

He loved the way you said his name when you were pleased. It always made him work even harder just to have you say it again. He slurped your skin into his mouth and repeated the action four times. Each time he did it, your hips bucked. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he held you in place, slightly changing the angle.

“Oh my god, Chris. Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

You were now sitting up on his face lost in your pleasure. Not wanting to keep the same speed or pattern, he slipped his mouth further back and swiped his tongue across your skin. You gasped again and flung your head forward to grip his legs again. You were now propped onto your knees. He gripped your waist again but moved you until he was on his belly behind you with his lips at your second entrance.

With every flick of his tongue, your moans became louder and louder until you buried your face in the blankets and let them all flow as you willed.

“Fuck baby, that feels so fucking good.”

There goes that name again; he thought before he doubled down on his efforts. He delved his tongue inside and swirled, and that sent you lunging forward, trying to get away. His reflexes were quick, so he gripped your hips and pressed you down onto the bed and did everything he knew would send you bucking like a bronco.

“Fuck!”

You pushed your ass back onto his mouth then began using his mouth as you saw fit. “Yes, yes, oh fuck Chris, I’m gonna come,” you loudly whined.

He moaned his response and slid two fingers inside of you and picked up the speed to match how he licked you. Your moans turned to whimpers and soon sobs before you shouted. He let go of your hip and plastered his hand across your mouth to muffle your shout. He could feel your wetness leaking out around his fingers, and he didn’t want to waste not one drop. Pulling his fingers free, he slurped at your sex, taking everything you gave.

When your body began convulsing, he did not let up. He used his lubricated fingers to swirl around your pulsating bud, which made you bite down onto his hand as you screeched out. His hand muffled your pleas, but he audibly heard you scream, “oh fuck, fuck fuck. I can’t.” As soon as he heard it, he pulled away from you and watched as your body continued to shake.

He peppered kisses along your body, up your spine, across your shoulder blades, on your shoulders, and back down your spin to nibble your cheeks. After doing this a few times, he kissed your ear.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whispered in a high pitched voice.

“What?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Chris. Am I—oh my god.”

He wanted to laugh, but instead, he continued kissing your skin. He loved everything about it—the softness, the taste, the smell of it. You haunted his nights and had even begun to leak over into his days.

You moved as if you had no energy. It took you a few tries to get onto your arms. Once you did, you grunted as you flipped over onto your back to look at him. He crawled to you and settled between your thighs and took your nipple into his mouth.

“Oh god, where’d you learn that?”

He smiled as he continued sucking your flesh. “Learned what?” His mumble was between sucks.

“You know what. Where’d you learn it?” He bit your nipple and raked his teeth across the sensitive bud.

“What, where’d I learn to eat the booty like groceries?”

You busted out laughing so loud he had the most difficult time keeping a straight face. When you looked at him again, he couldn’t help but snicker.

“Oh my god, fuck groceries, let’s be real you ate it like it was a ten-course gourmet prepped meal. My god!”

“Did you like it?”

The look you gave him was an incredulous one. It was like your eyes were asking him if he was okay in the head. He smiled then pinched his lips.

“I’d have to be dead and unable to feel a thing not to like it. that’s a very skillful tongue you’ve got there, Evans.”

He snorted again and dropped his forehead to your chest. As you laughed, your breasts gently slapped against his face. It was unintentional, but the reaction it caused was intentional. He wrapped his lips around your nipple again and pinched the other with his free hand. You moaned and arched your back, jutting your breasts more into his mouth. Again, like a spark that the fire needs to begin, he was ignited.

He groaned before he spoke, “Fuck, I’m so hard for you.”

“Show me.” He recognized the taunt in your voice. Usually, he’d play your game, but he didn’t have the strength right now. Locking eyes with you, he rose onto his knees, showing you his violently protruding dick. You arched onto your elbows and gripped him then stroked his length.

“Jesus,” he whispered as his head dropped back. Your hand felt incredible, it was soft and delicate, yet the way you stroked him was forceful. He was so fucking close.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N. I can’t take it,” he pleaded as he brought his head back to watch your hand. You brought your foot to trail across his chest then down his abs before bringing the other to join in on the action. When you brought your foot to his face, he trapped your toe between his teeth and sucked on it.

You moaned and bit your pointer before you dipped it into your mouth. He watched you suck your finger as you watched him suck your toe. Your moans sounded so damn good he could barely hold on. You brought your other foot to his face and inched it up to his hair. You were now arched onto your shoulders with your ass and back off the bed. The shape you made was the most sinfully artistic one he’d ever seen. When he saw you cup one breast and pinch your own nipple, he’d had enough.

He grabbed the ankle of your foot that was in his hair and crossed it over the one that had your toe in his mouth. He held you there by your ankles and saw the second you realized his intention. With one quick snap of his hips, he slammed into you, burying himself balls deep. You screeched and shook as he held you in place and rotated his hips, so you felt every fucking inch. Your body convulsed, and he felt the gush of wetness around him. Groaning, he pulled his mouth from your toe to bite the skin of your ankle as he held you closer and plowed into you. Slow was not how this would go. He needed too much.

Every time he slammed into you, your breasts swirled, and your head angled back. You were so gorgeous when your eyes rolled to the back of your head. It was a sight he was beginning to love as much as you smiling. Speeding up his thrusts, he grunted with each connection. The louder you got, the more your hands reached out for the sheets beside you to grip and ball. The more you did it, the deeper he went. When your hand flew out to his hips, trying to keep him back, he slowed. That only had you gripping his hip, pulling him closer, prompting him to it all again for the same reaction. In seconds, the chain on his restraint broke.

He dropped you back onto the bed then pressed your thighs apart so they rested on the bed and gave you one of the fuckings he’d dreamed about for three years. With nowhere to run and no way to escape your cursing picked up. When you began to scream, he pressed his hand over your mouth again, muffling every sound you made. Then he brought his face to yours and intensely stared into your eyes. The look in them only pushed him closer to the edge.

“Is it mine, Y/N?”

You remained quiet, but your eyes spoke for you. He wanted your words, though.

“Tell me? Is it mine? Does he make you scream like me? Hm?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head again, but you didn’t respond. He sped his movements, and your body jerked with every thrust sending you half hanging off the bed. He grunted again, feeling his release approaching.

“Does he make you shake like me? Can he even make you feel this good? Shiit!”

He could feel you trying to close your legs, no doubt wanting to wrap them around him to gain the upper hand. He was too far gone to allow it, so he kept you where you were and fed you every inch of him until he couldn’t bury himself any deeper. Your muffled scream vibrated on his hand. He knew you were close.

“Is this pussy mine, baby? Do I make it feel good? God, you’re so wet.” When he rotated his hips again, you bit his hand. He hovered over you and jackhammered into you. You whined as he took his hand away.

“Tell me.”

“It’s yours--,” you rasped out before he entwined his fingers at the top of your head, keeping it there as he sloppily kissed you as he lost himself in the ecstasy of your wetness and tightness. You whimpered on his mouth as he drank them up, using them as his sustenance. In seconds his thrusts became staggered when you clenched around him; he had no choice but to give in.

The deeper he tried to bury himself, the further your head dropped back, hanging off the bed. With his forehead rested just below your throat, he kissed along your collar as he slowly came back down.

“Mmmm. Oh wow. Whose ever bedroom that is they can see right in here,” you announced out of the blue.

“Huh?”

“Look.”

He groaned as he dropped onto the bed beside you to mirror you. When he looked before him, he saw his bedroom mirror. “Oh god.”

With that, he was moving again back toward the pillows before he plopped down.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he lied.

“No, that was not a nothing thing. What?” You dropped down beside him in the crook of his arm as if you’d been doing it for years. “Tell me.”

He sighed then groaned. “It’s my bedroom,” he confessed.

You didn’t speak for a few moments, then you arched on your elbow to look at him. “Yours?”

He nodded. You studied him then looked back to the window and to him again. He saw when you put two and two together. You sat up with your jaw dropped.

“Have you been watching me in here?”

“No.”

You gave him a look that said you didn’t believe him. “Okay unintentionally.”

“What! Oh my god, Chris!”

“It was an accident. I was looking out one night and didn’t realize what I had seen until it was too late.”

The look on your face was a cautious one. “What did you see?”

After staying quiet for as long as he could, he reluctantly answered. “You—lying here--,” he trailed off.

“Oh god, did you see me--.”

The look on his face must have been all you needed because you dropped back onto the pillow with your hands covering your face.

“Oh my god, noooo.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose. I couldn’t sleep, and I was just staring out and saw your light on. I didn’t realize I could even see in there until that night. I didn’t even see anything. It was just your face,” he elaborated as he pressed his body onto yours.

“Oh my god. You saw me—when?”

“A few weeks ago. If it makes you feel any better, I had to beeline to my shower to take care of myself.”

You moved your hands, so they were framing the outsides of your face. “Really?”

You smiled, and he could tell his confession made you feel a little better.

“Oh yeah. I was pretty pathetic. You probably would have laughed at me. I was not a grown man. I was a horny teenager.”

You snorted and laughed at him. He laid there and let you laugh it up. When you quieted, he kissed your chin.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me how you did it,” you repeated.

You couldn’t be serious, he thought. The longer that went with you remaining quiet while staring into his eyes, he realized you weren’t kidding.

“You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack. Show me how you jerked yourself off while thinking of me,” you ordered.

He could feel his body’s arousal. It was then he realized you’d be the death of him.

“Don’t be shy,” you coaxed.

“First, tell me who you were thinking about.”

You smiled then bit your bottom lip. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Nope. Tell me.” He saw your embarrassment, but he also saw you push through it.

“You.”

The weight of that confession had the air in the room changing. He sat up, then sat. Your eyes dropped to his length, and before you slowly licked your lips.

~~~~~~

-Y/N-

“Tell me what you saw.”

You watched Chris’s hand grip his dick and squeeze. As he did it, he slowly groaned. You had no idea how he was hard again. The man was a machine, and you didn’t know if this was normal or if it was you. Slowly you watched his hand stroke to his head only to squeeze yet again. Chris sucked in a breath and sighed out. his lips were redder than usual, and the way his mouth was agape made him look like he had more bottom lip than he really did.

He was so sexy sitting across from you with sex tousled hair and glazed eyes. As he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, he groaned again. Dropping your eyes to his hand, you watched his demonstration. He moved slowly, so slowly, you doubted this was what he did that night.

“Show me,” you repeated.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he gripped himself tighter.

“You were lying across the bed. The first thing I saw was---uugh!”

His strokes sped up, and you watched mesmerized by the sight of him pleasing himself. You could feel yourself getting wet all over again. That was all it took. You were in trouble, and you knew it.

“Was?”

Chris groaned, and you watched him clench his jaw. This clench was for a different reason then frustration with you. He sucked in a breath and hissed out. “Your head dropped back, your mouth opened. Then you grabbed your breast—uugh, shit.”

Chris’s hand sped up again. while it wasn’t speeding, inching him closer to his finish, you knew he was approaching the point where he lost himself to his pleasure. You grabbed your breast and massaged it.

“Like that?”

Chris groaned like a grumpy bear and squeezed his cock. The head of his member was turning deep red. You would have thought it hurt, but you knew it was the opposite. “What else?”

“I couldn’t see your hand, but I knew just what you were doing. Every second your face changed—mmm. When your body began rocking back and forth—fuck, Y/N.”

“What? Does it feel good? Do you wanna see what this hand was doing?”

You spread your legs before him, and his eyes dropped to your sex. His jaw dropped, and his brows furrowed as his hand quickened. When you dipped your fingers into your wetness and pulled them back, several strings of your wetness stretched, showing him just what he was doing to you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” It was then his hand moved at lightning speed, and that movement triggered your fingers to quickly circle your clit.

The room was filled with Chris’s grunts and moans, and your whimpers and whines. The way he watched you fueled you more and more. You wanted to make him lose his control, the control you’d seen every single time you were around him. You wanted him to be stripped so bare he had no other choice but to give in to every whim, desire, and need he had. You wanted to cripple the man so he’d never forget the power you had over him and that no other would ever do. You were it.

“Y/N!” You loved the sound of your name on his lips. Your body began to shake from the power of your oncoming orgasm. You needed more to get there, though.

“Chris,” you whined. Three seconds after you did, you saw him release spurt after spurt into the air. You followed it and sat there, amazed at how high it got. Still, you wanted more.

“Fuuuck!”

As if he knew what you needed, he dove between your legs and fasted his lips to your sex and sucked. In a matter of seconds, you were falling off the cliff and into a bottomless pit of pleasure. You shook and tried to get away from his mouth while locking his head where it was. When you couldn’t take it anymore, Chris spread your folds and quickly flicked his tongue against your clit, barreling you into yet another release. As you came, you managed to push him away and clamp your hands over your sex using it as a makeshift chastity belt.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my gooood!”

It took several minutes for your body to stop shaking, and when you looked at him, he was yet again hard.

“How!?”

He snorted and laid over you, resting his chin on your stomach. “Are you tapping out?”

“Chris—my god.”

He kissed your stomach and down to your pelvis, and you knew what he was trying to do. If he only knew he didn’t need to coax you into round however many. You were that open for him. his kisses trailed much lower than your pelvis until he softly kissed your clit. You sighed out and closed your eyes. When you felt the tip of his tongue, you flinched.

“Slow,” you whispered.

His response was to smear his bearded face across your sex, making you suck in a long breath. Before Chris could continue, there was a knock at the door that had you both freezing.

“Y/N.”

You couldn’t make out the voice, but you knew it was female. The knock came again.

“It’s Lisa.”

You gasped and shoved Chris off of you. “It’s your mother.”

He looked panicked as he practically rolled off the bed onto the floor. He kept low as if there were cameras at the window.

“I’m here to check on you, honey. You missed breakfast. Are you okay?”

The way Chris looked at you, he looked like he wanted you to answer. “Uh---I’m okay, Ms. Lisa.”

“Good. You had us worried. Have you happened to see Chris?”

“No!” You blurted it out so quickly Chris slapped his forehead before he stifled a laugh.

“No, I haven’t seen Chris since dinner.”

“I have some food for you, honey. Are you sure you’re all right? Can I come in?”

Chris nearly leaped out of his skin. He knocked over a vase that came crashing down.

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay. No, I’m fine. I’m coming.”

You and Chris looked at each other, neither of you wanting to be too loud. He quickly pulled on his pants, but you could still see his massive erection poking out. The sight of it had you biting your lip. Chris groaned and rolled his eyes as if you were killing him. After tossing him his shirt, you grabbed your robe and wrapped it around your body. Chris approached you and kissed you once, then twice. His hand wandered down to your ass, which he used to lift you just enough that you could feel his hardness. You got lost in your arousal for a few moments until you heard Ms. Lisa call your name again.

“Go,” you whispered with a wide smile. He pulled from you slinked to the window at the other side of the room that you had no idea slid open until he did it. You watched him jump out of it and realized he really could have had access to you any time he wanted.

You hurried out the bedroom to the front door looking around to make sure nothing gave anything away. When you opened the door, Lisa stood there with a concerned look on her face.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I dropped a vase. I’m so sorry.”

“Eh, I don’t care about that. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I probably should get out of bed anyway. Do you want to come in?”

“No, I’ll let you get yourself together. Eat some of this, though,” Lisa pleaded.

“You got it. Thank you so much for taking such good care of me.”

Lisa smiled and gently tapped your cheek. “Anytime, honey. See you in a few; we were thinking of making it a beach day.”

“Sounds great. I’ll meet you guys down there.”

Lisa smiled and nodded as she walked away back to the house. You slumped against the door once you closed it, relieved she hadn’t suspected a thing.

After eating the meal she’d brought, you took a long shower and co-washed your hair again in prep for the salty seawater. After your shower, you got lost in checking emails and completing a few work tasks. You didn’t realize you’d spent so much time on it until another knock came. When you opened it, Scott was there.

“Scott.”

“You sound surprised. Were you expecting someone else?”

“What? Shut up, come.”

You walked back to your laptop and finished up the email you were sending.

“Is this why you’re late? You have everyone on the beach wondering if you’re sick,” Scott informed.

“What? No. I had to check in on work and got swept up.”

“Okay, well, it’s quarantine, fuck work,” Scott said as he shut your laptop.

“Scott!” You gaped at him. He didn’t look one bit apologetic.

“Your ass is lucky I already sent that email,” you said as you walked off.

“You don’t scare me. You forget, I know all of your little secrets.”

You scoffed to yourself because that may have been true last week, but this week it was completely untrue.

“Let’s go, get on a bathing suit,” Scott pestered, opening up your drawers to look for swimsuits.

“What if I don’t feel like getting sandy? I’m tired.”

��From what?”

You pursed your lips knowing damn well you couldn’t tell him from fucking his brother five ways from Sunday. You still had yet to fuck him seven ways, and you fully intended to. You looked away, avoiding Scott’s eyes. “I’ve been working when I should be sleeping.”

“Of course you have.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw the gift box from the night on the beach with Chris, and your interest piqued. You casually walked over to the box, grabbing it before Scott could see it and get nosy. With it in your hand, you made a move to open it, but that was when Scott turned to you with a bikini in hand. Slyly you dropped it into the drawer behind you and posed on the furniture with a smile.

“You’re acting weird.”

“You’re acting weird. What’s that?”

“Your swimsuit,” Scott filled in, holding it out to you. As you took it, you saw he’d chosen one of the sexier options.

“So, I should just parade around in this with your family around, including husbands and boyfriends?”

“Ew, everyone here sees you like a sister or a daughter. No one is going to be looking at you. Hurry up,” Scott finished before he walked out the bedroom, leaving you to stare at the bikini in your hands.

Once you put on the bathing suit, you rubbed some of coconut oil onto your skin and used some to slick your hair into a neat bun. Then you spritzed yourself with sunscreen. Before you walked out, you dug into the drawer and quickly debated if you should open the box or not. You were ninety-eight percent certain it was for you, but you didn’t know if he meant to give it to you, and it slipped his mind or if he’d changed his mind. The curiosity was killing you. Deciding against opening it, you put it back into the drawer and busied yourself with putting a few things you would need into a beach bag, then you walked out to join Scott.

Once the two of you stepped onto the sand, you wore a beach robe over your bathing suit. Before you, everyone had set up shop with everything imaginable—lounge chairs, blankets, towels, and even a picnic area. Scott walked ahead, leading the way with you trailing behind.

“I got her,” Scott announced. Everyone erupted with cheers and applause. You rolled your eyes at their extraness. Chris was sitting in a lounge chair in his men’s tank with his arms outstretched behind his head.

“All work during quarantine is a recipe for disaster,” Carly chimed in.

“Ha. I hear you, but this work was necessary.”

You caught Chris’s smirk. He got what you meant. You tried to hide your smile. After a few attempts, you realized this might be harder than you initially thought.

“Grab a lounge chair,” Shanna shouted.

You looked around at the choices. There was one that was free beside Chris, but you wondered if it would look suspicious if you chose it, seeing how the two of you had always chosen to stay away from each other. You stood there, unsure of what to do. Chris glanced at you and must have sensed your debate.

“There’s one by me. I promise to keep my opinions to myself,” Chris teased.

“Please do, no one wants to hear them,” Scott joked.

As everyone chuckled, you walked to the empty lounger beside Chris and put your things down. Once you reclined back, you untied the robe and peeled it off before moaning as the sun bathed you. After a few moments, something said look at Chris, so you did. His eyes were glued to you, and the look on his face was a mixture of old and new. Slowly his eyes trailed over your exposed skin. When he returned to your eyes, you saw the question in them. Scoffing, you looked away and relaxed on the chair.

A few minutes passed then you heard your phone chime. Ignoring the first one, it chimed three more times back to back.

“Y/N, that better not be work,” Scott warned.

Sighing, you dug into your bag and retrieved your phone to look at your messages. It wasn’t work. You nearly laughed out loud seeing the ID you’d given him.

MSG Asshole Evans: What’re you wearing?

MSG Asshole Evans: You’re killing me.

MSG Asshole Evans: How am I supposed to play it cool with you looking like that?

MSG Asshole Evans: Is that coconut oil?

You scoffed then pinched your lips.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s my um—sister,” you lied.

MSG Asshole Evans: Nice save.

You turned off the sound and replied.

MSG: It’s called a bikini. Your brother picked it, and yes, that is coconut oil, and it’s slathered all—over—me. I put it everywhere my hair, my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach, my ass, my legs, and yes, between my legs too.

You heard an audible groan from your left, and it made you smile.

MSG Asshole Evans: You’re evil.

MSG: Not what you were saying a few hours ago. What was it you were saying--?

MSG Asshole Evans: I think it’s more important what you were saying. I extensively remember it—your pussy’s ownership.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped, not even you pressing your fingertips to your lips could stop your laughing.

MSG Asshole Evans: This pussy belongs to no man, no matter how good he fucks it.

Chris sighed beside you before he got up and walked away to where the kids were playing. You may have struck a nerve, but only part of you cared. You relaxed and chatted with everyone around you while keeping one eye on Chris. It wasn’t even intentional. No matter where he went, you were always keenly aware of his presence. It was weird; it was like your body was always scanning for his like a sonar.

Chris managed to stay away for the better part of the afternoon. When you decided to go over to the picnic area and get some snacks, you felt his eyes all over your body. Soon after you sat on one of the blankets, he joined you. The two of you ate in silence, but every so often, you’d each catch the other gawking. You played up everything you ate. If it were a sandwich, you’d bite it slowly, by doing that; the condiments always ended up at the corner of your mouth of your lip. Then you slowly clean yourself up. If it was fruit, you made sure to bite it in a sexy way that always had juice dripping onto your cleavage. You never bothered to clean it because you knew his eyes would train the juice droplets until they disappeared. Your favorite was the popsicle. As a man, he was predictable to a fault, and you mercilessly used it against him.

Of course, he didn’t remain the victim. The secret was out that you were attracted to him, and that meant that he knew he could turn you on with little to no effort. You wondered just how well he’d been paying attention over the years. When he took off his shirt and got into the water with the kids, he had your undivided attention. Your eyes completely roamed all over his body, beginning at those broad shoulders you’d sunk your nails into as he rocked into you.

You then moved down his chest and bit your bottom lip when you peeped the hair decorating his chest. You vividly remembered tracing your fingertips through that hair and kissing a path down his pleasure trail. When your eyes dropped just to where that trail led every image of what you’d done that morning flashed through your head like a greatest hits montage and boy were they great hits.

“What’re you looking at with that look on your face?”

Scott’s voice scared you half to death. Your wine spilled over the rim of the glass and went all over your thighs then ran down between your legs. You would have gasped, but you were already wet enough that this new wetness didn’t bother you. To be honest, the chilled liquid was the cooling effect you needed down there.

“Nothing,” you screeched out as you diverted your eyes to look down the beach.

“You’re lying. I’ve seen that look before. That’s your you wanna bone look,” Zack announced a little too loudly for your liking.

“Zack! Jesus, that was loud as hell, and you’re wrong. It was not.”

You knew it was and that you’d been caught. Doing your best to keep the act up, you sipped the remainder of your wine.

“What were you looking at? Or who?” Zack would not let it go. “The only viable option is Ch--,” Zack began.

“Mom says we have to take a water break, Uncle Chris.”

“Always gotta listen to mom. Come get me when your break is over,” Chris responded as he stopped before you, Scott and Zack.

You quickly slipped on your sunglasses and tried to keep your eyes above his collar, but it was no use. You shamelessly gawked at everything the good Lord blessed him with. Thanks to your shades none of them knew a damn thing.

“What’re you guys talking about?”

Chris reached for the towel and patted his body, and you’d never wanted to be an object as much as you wanted to be that towel right now. The way he did it, you wondered if he was doing it to put on a show. When you looked back to his face, you could tell he was doing it on purpose.

“We were just asking Y/N, what she was looking at. She had the I wanna fuck look,” Zack filled in.

Sometimes you wished Zack and Scott weren’t so good at spilling everyone’s tea, yours especially. You finished your glass of wine as Chris’s eyes landed on you yet again.

“Oh. What exactly is the I wanna fuck look?” He looked right at you when he said it “fuck”. He was doing this on purpose to get a rise out of you, and your body and brain knew it, but neither of them seemed to give a fuck.

You couldn’t believe this. Three days of fucking, and you’d been reduced to some horny always down for the dick chick. Yes, said dick was incredible. You hadn’t imagined what he was working with before, but you’d expected it to be a spectacular dick for the number of women he’d been rumored to have been with. You couldn’t reconcile it to be true because every story you’d ever heard of white boy sex was less than subpar. This white boy’s dick game was that of a white on the outside but black on the inside dick game. You couldn’t understand it.

“Well, not everyone’s is the same, but we’ve seen hers before duh,” Zack continued.

“Oh,” Chris sounded as he planted his hands on his hips. With the added weight of his hands, the waistband of his swim trunks dipped lower, revealing those damn oblique indentations that made smart women stupid.

“You never noticed every time Charles was around us she’d have this—primal look in her eyes, and she’d always space out?”

Your head sprang up to watch him. You’d noticed on several occasions that whenever Charles was brought up or around, he became really salty. Your head went back to his place in the woods after he heard Charles calling. His one-eighty was so shocking it gave you whiplash. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and watched even close when he cracked his neck, turning it in different directions. You wanted to see how he’d react this time.

“The feeling was clearly mutual cause every time he was around you could see the same look on his face,” Zack said with a giggle.

“How is Charles?”

You took off the sunglasses and turned to Scott to answer him. “We um—we haven’t talked in a few. Last time we talked, he—we decided to take some time apart.”

Zack gasped loudly, which brought the attention of those around you. “What’s happened?”

“Y/N and Charles broke up,” Zack announced.

All the women circled you, asking if you were okay or if you wanted to talk about it. You declined each offer and assured them you were fine.

“It’s not a big deal. Honestly—things had probably run their course,” you admitted.

“You sure? He was so in love.”

“Love? I don’t know about--,” you began.

“—I do, I can pick up on these things,” Zack added.

“Y/N didn’t feel the same. It was evident in how you kept him at a distance. I bet he wanted a commitment, and your commitment-phobe jumped out,” Scott read. Your haw dropped. You didn’t know why you were so shocked he’d called you out like that. He knew he was right too. He didn’t bother looking at you to wait for the answer.

“I am not a commitment-phobe,” you feebly objected.

“I agree,” Lisa began as she gently rubbed your shoulder. “In my days commitment-phobe was a term for not the one. I guarantee when it’s the one, Y/N, you’ll have no hesitations. You might fight it, but it won’t change anything.”

For some reason, your eyes went to Chris, who now gripped the parts of the towel that hung down around his neck. The look on his face was an unreadable one. He didn’t look angry, but he didn’t look flirtatious as he had the entire afternoon either.

“Isn’t that right, Chris? No amount of fighting off what’s meant to be will make an ounce of difference,” His mother added before she patted his shoulder and walked away. Chris clenched his jaw and walked to his lounge chair, then plopped down.

The circle around you dispersed, and Zack and Scott wandered off toward the shoreline, finally leaving you alone. You looked over to Chris, who was just staring at the waves with a contemplative look on his face. You wondered if you went over to him if it would look suspicious and bring attention. It wasn’t like the two of you never had a conversation. It was just sparse and always ended in you annoyed because you felt like he was an asshole. You thought about it for much longer than you should have. It was silly that you had to put all of this into consideration now.

After swinging your legs over the chair, you stood and walked to him. Chris’s eyes didn’t move from where they’d been for the last near ten minutes, but you knew he felt you there from the way his shoulders tensed. You wanted to touch him, but that would probably be suspicious. In seconds you’d come up with a plan.

“Did you put sunscreen on?”

He didn’t answer.

“You know you’ll hate yourself tonight if you didn’t, especially since you burn easy.”

Still no answer. You dug in your bag then sat in the space behind him so he was between your legs. You then squeezed some sunscreen into your hands and rubbed his back. Once you touched him, he sighed out and dropped his forehead to his balled fists that were planted on his chin. He didn’t speak, though. You slowly rubbed the cream into his skin, making sure to get every inch of his back before you brought your hands to his shoulders. A soft moan escaped you, and it was enough for him to turn his head to the left.

Your body drifted forward until your breasts pressed to his back for a brief moment before you realized where you were. When you pulled away, Chris sighed again then looked back to the water. You looked around you and clocked where everyone was. None of them were looking your way. You slinked your hands around to his chest and pressed yourself to him. Both of you moaned. It felt good—too good. You pulled away again before you melted into him. Chris brought his hand over yours and laced his fingers with yours.

“Why do you always get so angry when his name comes up?”

As soon as you asked the question, he let your hand go and slid forward, leaving more than enough space between you.

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. It’s been like that since he came into the picture. I’ve always noticed it, but until that date at the house, I’d had it all wrong, but the way you reacted and the things you said the other night—maybe I still have it wrong.” As you spoke, you absentmindedly rubbed his skin even though his skin had absorbed the liquid.

He didn’t answer, so you continued.

“After that date, I thought it was jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous of that—I’m not jealous.”

“No? So you’re not jealous that I’ve had sex with him or that he was brought in the picture because of you? It doesn’t matter to you that he’s had me the way you have?”

“So it’s the same? There’s no difference for you?”

His counter froze you. You knew what he was asking. The thing was that what he was asking meant you had to do something you still hadn’t decided if it was in your best interest.

“Is it the same for you? Am I like all the others, no difference?”

“I fucking hate when you do this.”

“Do what?”

“Deflect. I ask you something, and you flip it back on me instead of answering. If you refuse to let me in, how can I let you in?”

“I thought I’d already let you in,” you dryly replied.

“Then you add sarcasm,” Chris added. You gently raked your nails down his back, but it didn’t have the anticipated reaction.

“Then, when deflecting and sarcasm don’t work, you turn to the physical.”

“It’s been so fucking difficult staying away from you this whole time, and I thought it was because my body still wants your body, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t it. I’ve always known this between us would be like this and knew you’d be like this,” Chris explained a little about a whisper, but even though it was a whisper, it was a forceful one. He was annoyed with you.

“Chris--.”

He stood and turned to face you.

“No, you're not like the others. You’re different. This is different,” he finished with the same annoyed whisper before he walked off down the beach.

Thirty minutes later, your fun meter had run out. Ignoring the pleas of everyone around you, you made your way back to the guesthouse to begin the long process of a proper wash routine.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

Tag List:

@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @kikimiyazaki @bellaamor88 @toniilaney @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @titty-teetee @evemej @areubeingserved @theskullgoddess @caramara3 @champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @momobaby227 @alyxkbrl @dumbchick @behindthesehazeleyes27 @blackmissfrizzle @chris-butt @nervousninjatheorist @dangerouslovefanfic @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @thinkxlovexloud @swinchestersgirl @angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official @twinx007 @a-dizzle777 @ab-baybay @patzammit @kreolemami @aysha1447 @cutewylie @disaster-rose @wondersofdreaming @lo-cheu @livinglifeformemyselfandi @magdelen69 @snowpiercer21 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @mery-be @hakunalive4eva @anandalambert @youurkryptonite @mizcaptainphoenix @bobbdylann @emilykjh @littlepreciousangel @ssaarroonn @thummbelina @sweetlittlegingy @art-estrange @torntaltos @rynabarnesrogers @rororo06 @anotherblackfangirl @bernie-k @theonewithherheadintheclouds @hista-girl @coldmuffinbanditshoe @jennmurawski13 @deathstroke-terminated-deez-guts @mrsbarnes- rogers @maxcullen @shadyskit @someone-really-bored @thejemersoninferno @itsallyscorner @cristinagronk16 @shakemeupthanks-blog @acciolove724 @straightforwardly @zsuzstyina @acevansss @evansgirl7 @almosttherebutnot @periodtcevans @deadlymistress24 @sunkissedebony97 @turn-thy-paige @amelatonin @nerdybitchpudding @amennariee @est1887 @likesfairytales @maverickabull @productofchina @jd-now-jq @winchwm @thotti3par7on @vintageembrace @priya212 @sadishdelray @jesseswartzwelder @pivictorious @anat2507 @raveviolet @rdjparker @actorinfluence @sadishdelray @041802 @ljstraightnochaser @winterboobear11 @awaywithtime @evermcfearless @tashawar @dwights-new-plague @renfrewscorner @euphoric05 @baby-iyania @marvelatthis30 @martinafigoli @spxcecxramxl @brownskinafro @queenwinchester2 @dragonballluver @kailyndavillier @thelilbutifulthings @problackasfwilson @miss-jackson500 @thejeneralvicinity @siempremamita @theladybiers@ibe-erynn @literaturefeen @richonne4life @ani808 @scifi-fantasist @mizzzpink @creolemami @disconectedswift @i-lie-here-charmed @bamakakechick @chuckbass-love @captainchrisstan @dragonballluver @buchanansebba @letsdothemonstermash @euh-say-what-now @jillanaholland @queenwinchester2 @dragonballluver @myakai13 @likesfairytales @cessamjrmr @letsdothemonstermas @melanicia @queenwinchester27 @chrisevansfanfic @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @mirmirmur @redhairedfeistynerd @nico-diangelo-grey @amazonian-strap-queen @imaslutforcaptainamerica @ibe-erynn @wintermoons @tstark-94 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @shining---h somethin @cookinggurl43 @shar74nett @live-laugh-love-ki @deadpixie22 @jasmindaughteroftheworld @letsdothemonstermash @almosttherebutnot @munteanhore @blackgurlkillinit @madixii @smediumsmeatbae @jovanaprime @onetwo3000 @tashawar @rainbowkisses31 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison-00 @guardian-tn @timotheessoleil @rynabarnesrogers-reading @kemkem101 @jd-now-jq @blackmissfrizzle @sohalia01 @xoxloaveasre @lickmymelaninn @crist1216 @badkittybang @queenoftheworldisdead @reveviolet @madixii @dragonballluver @southerngracela @fanfictionaffair @sullyosully @naturalthrone22 @kittykatlow @peggyslegion @almosttherebutnot @beccacupcakesxo @rhyrhy462 @littlepreciousangel @queenshikongo3 @simply-heaven @chezdricks @euh-say-what-now @mangos4u @toni9 @littleheavensangel2 @pretendlifeisnormal @imaslutforcaptainamerica @offrostandstarlight @jillanaholland @ukmkhan @cltex84 @petty-bitch-akira

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

#quarantine: a love story fic #q17 #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x ofc #chris evans smut #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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ecto-american · 3 years

Text

Prom Season

Phic Phight Oneshot for Rikaleeta and ghostgothgeek: As Prom draws nearer, Danny finds that he has competition in asking Sam to prom. Danny/Sam

Read on AO3 and FFN

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"Dude, you're staring again," Tucker nudged him. Danny blinked, snapping out of his daze, and he stood up straight, tapping his fingers anxiously on the counter.

"Sorry, dude, it's just. What the hell would Dale want with Sam?" he scowled.

The jock was standing near Sam, the two chatting idly by Sam's favorite part of the comics store, the vinyl section. Sam was smiling, nodding and agreeing with whatever Dale was talking to her about.

"Dale's been eying Valerie lately, maybe he's asking Sam about her?" Tucker suggested. He smiled politely at a customer who came into his line, promptly beginning to check them out. "Even so, why do you care? Sammy's a big girl."

"Prom season's coming up, somebody might ask her," Danny argued lightly.

"And why's that matter?" Tucker asked. In no time at all, the customer had paid and left, and the two were left standing in the mostly empty comics store.

"Dude, you know guys!" Danny grumbled, throwing his hands up as if it was obvious. "They only want one thing, especially after prom! You should know. Don't you and Star plan on finally doing it after prom?"

"Probably, but mostly because we've already been doing it," Tucker shrugged. Danny choked on nothing.

"Wait, what? How come you didn't tell me!?" Danny asked. Tucker opened his mouth to reply, only to jerk his head to Sam.

Dale had left the store seemingly, and Sam was already at the counter, clutching a new vinyl. Danny chuckled.

"This is why we can't visit Tucker at work, you'll always end up with something," he teased her. She rolled her eyes.

"But Tucker works here now, so he'll be sweet and let me use his employee discount?" she half-asked hopefully, staring at Tucker with a bright smile. He sighed, and he entered his employee discount code as he rang her up. "Thank you!"

"Anytime," he assured her. He handed her her bag. "So did Dale ask you to prom?" Sam snorted in amusement.

"Oh hell no," she replied. "He wanted to know if anybody had asked Valerie, and if I thought his plan to ask her would go over well."

Tucker sent Danny a sideways "I told you so" smirk, and Danny made an annoyed grumble.

"Either way, you ready to drag me to Hot Topic?" Danny asked.

"Only every day," Sam said. She turned to Tucker. "You close tonight, right? Do you want us to swing by and take you home?" Tucker shook his head no.

"Nah, it's okay!" he assured her. "I have my uncle's old car now, remember?" Sam lit up a bit.

"Oh yeah! Well, just drive careful!"

Tucker waved her off with a grin.

"Don't worry about me. You two lovebirds have fun," he teased. "But not too much fun."

Danny could feel his cheeks burn. A glance at Sam, and he could see her own face flushing some. However, she rolled her eyes and jokingly flipped Tucker off, getting one in response as they walked out and into the mall.

"Do you want me to carry your bag?" Danny offered, holding his hand out.

"Sure!" Sam agreed, and she handed it over. "Have you thought about the piercing? I'll buy you one if you're going for it."

"Eh, I'm still trying to figure out how badly my mom would flip if she saw that I got my nose pierced, and if it'd be worth it lecture," Danny shrugged.

"You should totally do it, then deflect it by coming out as Danny Phantom," she joked. Danny snorted. "Come on, we could match!" Sam had gotten her left nostril pierced almost a year ago, currently occupied by a tiny black skull, as well as four total piercings per ear. As expected, her mom nearly lost it over the nose charm. She poked his nose. "You could get a little white ghost charm." He couldn't help but smile.

"Now you're tempting me to risk it," he admitted.

He gestured to the Hot Topic, and Sam went inside first, him right behind her. She went right for the piercings display, looking. After a moment, she tapped on the case, looking over her shoulder for Danny.

"See? Right there, you could get that cute little silver ghost," she told him. Danny peeked over her shoulder. She pointed at another charm, one in the shape of a laptop. "Oh! And Tucker could get that one! We could all kinda match!"

"Pretty sure Tucker's mom would actually kill him if he came home with another piercing," Danny replied. Sam had already convinced Tucker of getting his ears pierced, and his mom was Very Unhappy about it. "Just like my mom would kill me if I came home with a nose piercing."

"You're already half dead though," Sam pointed out. Danny gave a half shrug and smile.

"Got me there. Alright, I'll get it," he said. Sam grinned widely, going to the counter to immediately ask for an employee to retrieve it.

They only browsed a bit more before they finally left. No sooner were they out the door…

"Sam!" a familiar voice called out excitedly. The not-lovebirds glanced over to see Paulina and Elliot coming up to them, Paulina a few steps ahead as she excitedly half-jogged over to Sam. Elliot was carrying two Starbucks cups, taking his time following. Paulina threw her arms around Sam, hugging her tightly, the goth only giving a half smile and lightly patting her back. "If I knew you were coming to the mall, I would have invited you to get your nails done with us! Look, Elliot and I match!"

Paulina pulled away to show off white nails with pink details.

"Oh they look nice!" Sam complimented. "It's okay though. Coming today was kinda a last minute thing." Or rather, they decided to hang out here after catching the Box Ghost, who was making himself home in one of the new stores that hadn't quite opened yet.

"You got me Starbucks?" Danny joked as Elliot finally came close enough to properly hear him. Elliot rolled his eyes. "How sweet."

"If you wanna give me the four dollars it costs, sure," he joked back. He handed Paulina the clear pink drink, and she took a long sip from it. Danny noticed that he did kinda match her, with black nails and matching details, only in a pastel blue.

"What are you guys up to?" Paulina asked. "We were just about to see if Macy's had any cute prom dresses out yet." The mentioning of prom made Danny's stomach feel a bit weirdly queasy.

"We're gonna go get Danny's nose pierced!" Sam replied, pointing to his nose. Danny snapped out of the feeling.

"Wait, what? We're doing that today?" he asked. Sam grinned.

"You're eighteen, they'll let you!" she replied. She reached into the Hot Topic bag to pull out the piercing. "I gotta make you put it on before you change your mind." Oh, a bit too late already.

"Ooh, that's a lot more interesting than prom dresses!" Elliot mused. "I can drive us." He put his free hand to his ear. "I've been thinking about getting another piercing anyway." Paulina hummed thoughtfully.

"Spike should be working today, so I might see if he has my new tattoo design ready," Sam mused.

Another thing that her mom, if she were to ever find out, would flip out over. Sam already had two that her family were oblivious to. Danny knew that she had a spider on a web on her ribcage; he had held her hand while she got that one done (and nearly ended up with a broken hand). The other was a black and deep purple rose and vine on her thigh, which he had only seen right after she had gotten it. Jazz, out of everybody, had gone with her to get it, and even came back with a tattoo herself. Though Jazz, like a nerd, had opted for a book tattoo. Danny had never seen it before outside of the photo Jazz took of it, but knew that it was on her ribcage and something Spike gave her as an anniversary present.

"I guess that settles it!" Elliot grinned. "Let's go to the tattoo and piercing shop!"

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After somehow surviving Elliot's crappy little car, only somewhat affectionately called "the shitbox", they were huddled in the waiting room area of the shop. Paulina, already filling out the usual safety and health and consent forms, was standing and staring at the wall of previous art done.

"You gonna get a tattoo instead?" Elliot teased her as he handed the receptionist his own filled paperwork. Paulina shot him a smile, but still slapped his shoulder.

"Papa would kill me," she insisted.

"So? Get it where nobody will see," Elliot replied. Paulina playfully slapped him again.

Danny rolled his eyes, continuing to fill out his form as he drafted all the excuses he'd have to give his mom when she inevitably chewed his ass out when he got home. Whelp, he was already bound to be grounded sooner or later cause of the ghosts. Might as well spice up the grounding reasoning once in a while.

Sam appeared from the back, clutching a piece of paper up. Spike was behind her. Sam made a beeline for Danny.

"Dude, look at how nice it is!" she told him, holding it out for him to see. Danny glanced up. It was a skull with flowers growing out of it.

"Oh, that's sick," he commented.

"I know, right?" Sam grinned. Danny smiled, returning his attention to the paperwork.

"So you wanna get that this Saturday?" Spike spoke up.

"Uh, Danny are you free Saturday?" Sam asked. Danny glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow.

"After today I'll probably be grounded," he joked, signing his name for the last time on the forms. Sam chuckled.

"True," she replied. "Hmm, ah whatever. I can tough it out." Danny quickly looked up again as it suddenly hit him why he needed to be free. Sam had already turned to Spike. "Yeah, let's go for Saturday."

"Oh, if you want somebody around, I can come," Elliot popped up.

"That'd be awesome!" Sam grinned. "This one's going on my back, so it's supposed to hurt."

"Well, you can break my hand, I don't care," Elliot assured her. Danny's chest squeezed a bit as he felt a hot flash hit him.

"No it's okay, I can just sneak out!" he said immediately. Sam glanced at him.

"Nah, it's okay. I don't wanna get you into anymore trouble," she assured him.

"I don't care," Danny quickly blurted out. Spike chuckled.

"Man, Mrs. Fenton's scary when she's pissed, your best bet is to just obey her," Spike told him. He nodded at Danny. "Did Jazz tell you about how she nearly got into a fistfight at the bridal shop a few days ago?"

"No?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"Basically when Jazz went in for her dress fitting, she had apparently gained a little bit of stress weight since the last fitting, cause she's been driving herself insane over grad school applications," Spike explained. Danny nodded understandingly. "and the lady fitting her dress kind of gushed over it cause she thought Jazz got pregnant. It made her cry, and man. Mrs. Fenton went off on her, and apparently nearly began throwing hands with the manager."

"Oh man, poor Jazz," Sam said somberly. Danny couldn't agree more as he gave a low short whistle at the audacity. Between graduating early, grad school applications, and getting married, he had never seen Jazz look so stressed out. "Why don't you guys push the wedding back a bit?"

"She'll get more money from FASFA and scholarships, plus better housing, if we get married sooner, and she doesn't wanna just elope and have a party later," Spike shook his head a bit. "But uh, either way though, I got some numbing cream for ya Sam if you're worried about pain." Spike shot Danny a reassuring smile and a wink. He felt a little better. Sam sighed with relief.

"Please," she confessed. "It's not too bad when Danny's here, but if I'm alone I know I'm going to get a little anxious."

"Aw come on, I'm not reassuring?" Elliot teased. To Danny's relief, Sam also playfully slapped Elliot on his shoulder.

"Are you kidding me? You'd probably actually ruin my tattoo by making me laugh the entire time," she told him. Danny's heart squeezed again, and he got up to silently hand the receptionist the forms.

"I think I might get a tattoo," Paulina finally spoke up. Elliot's interest was immediately piqued.

"Oh?" he asked. Paulina nodded, pointing to a tattoo on the wall, a pretty collection of flowers.

"This is sooo pretty, I think I'd get something like this," she said. Sam glanced at it.

"That'd be like, what? Four hundred-ish dollars, Spike?" she guessed. Spike glanced at the reference photo and nodded.

"Yeah, give or take," he replied. Paulina made a face.

"Maybe one day in the future," she decided. "I need money for a prom dress." Sam waved a hand.

"Prom dresses are temporary, tattoos are forever!" she told her. Paulina made a noise of disinterest, and Sam shrugged.

"Danny, did you wanna go first?" the receptionist asked as she glanced at the three stacks of piercing requests.

Danny coughed a bit nervously. He glanced at Sam, and he nodded.

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"Thanks again, Spike!" Sam beamed. Spike smiled fondly at her, offering her a hug. She gladly accepted it.

"Anything for my favorite future sister-in-law," he teased. Sam's face instantly burned. Danny scoffed as he lightly touched his new piercing anxiously.

"Sam isn't related to us, dude," he told Spike. Spike gave him a weird look, then shook his head.

"You're lucky you know how to do math, man," he told him. "Also let me know if Mrs. Fenton kills you." Danny gave a nod.

"Don't worry, you'd be invited to the funeral," he joked. Spike chuckled. "Also I give you permission to tattoo my corpse before they put me down."

"Sick," Spike grinned. "I'll give you some of those lil blob ghosts the float around."

Elliot and Paulina were chatting a mile a minute outside the shop. When the not-lovebirds came out, Paulina immediately pushed her hair behind her ear to show off her new helix piercings. Danny could already see Elliot's singular orbital piercing.

"Look! I feel so punk!" Paulina gushed. Sam snorted in amusement.

"Girl, I'm gonna have to get you into a lot more black and leather before you're anywhere near punk," she teased. Paulina giggled.

"Maybe some leather pants," she mused. She shrugged. "Anywho! Elliot and I were gonna go look at the prom dresses! Wanna tag along?"

"Yeah, sounds fun!" Danny agreed.

"Yeah! I still need to get mine," Sam agreed. "I really want your opinion on a dress anyway," she said to Paulina. "Cause you know I'm going to customize mine no matter what I get."

"Yeah, I might ask you to do the same to mine, like help me tailor something if needed," Paulina mused. "I need my dress to be absolutely perfect. But we need to make another Starbucks run."

"Really?" Elliot raised an eyebrow at her. "Boo, this is your third trip today." Paulina pouted cutely at him. He playfully chuckled. "Alright, alright. I kinda want another iced coffee anyway."

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"So, has Elliot talked to you about it yet?" Paulina asked, taking a long sip of her drink as they waited near the door to the popular coffee chain. Danny made a confused "hm?" noise as he took a sip of his own. "That he wanted to ask Sam to prom?"

Danny's heart stopped, and he instantly returned his attention back to the pair of goths. They were customizing their Starbucks drink at the counter, smiling happily and chatting casually about something he couldn't heart.

God, of course! Fuck, he was so focused on every other dude that he forgot that Elliot wasn't gay. God damn it, and Sam would potentially actually say yes to him too.

"Uh. Um. I-uh." Danny coughed into his elbow as he tried to think of some way to respond that sounded normal. "No, he, um. Hasn't said anything to me yet." Nice response, Fenton.

"Oh, well, be prepared I guess," Paulina replied, taking a sip of her fancy-looking pink drink in the clear plastic cup.

Danny took a huge gulp of his coffee as he tried to process it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He needed to think of how to reply to Elliot if the guy were to actually confront him or talk to him about it. His gut twisted. How was he supposed to reply? Elliot didn't deserve to go out with his Sam. What the fuck was that moron thinking? They were just friends.

"You guys ready?" Elliot glanced over his shoulder at them.

"Yup!" Paulina chirped. Elliot walked over with them, Sam quickly behind.

"You got your hourly Starbucks?" Elliot teased her.

"Mhm!" she hummed.

"You almost need to start working at Starbucks," Elliot told her.

"But then I'd just spend the whole paycheck on Starbucks," Paulina playfully protested.

"Fair, fair," Elliot hummed.

They exited, and they all piled into Elliot's car. Danny and Sam in the back, Paulina in her normal position in the passenger's seat.

"Do you know what kind of dress you're looking for?" Paulina asked as Elliot pulled out of the parking lot. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, definitely something black or purple," she said. "I'm really into long dresses lately, so probably a long dress, but I dunno! Short dresses are cute too."

"Oh short dresses are sooo in right now," Paulina agreed. "I want a short dress! Definitely pink, I want a really cute pastel pink maybe? But any shade of pink, I think it looks best on me."

"Hmm, yeah but greens look really good on you too," Elliot spoke up. "Like pastel and light greens?"

"They do but it's prom so I really want something pink," Paulina replied.

"Hmm, I think I look good in purple and black," Sam mused. "What do I look good in Danny?"

"Purple, black, red, and green, but like? An ecto green if that makes sense?" Danny said. Sam thought about it.

"Yeah, I really do like ecto green," she agreed. She shot him a sly smile. "Reminds me of Danny Phantom. And well. Ya know. I think he's really cute." Danny flushed, shyly smiling back.

"Ugh he's sooo cute," Paulina gushed. "His eyes are the most beautiful shade of green I've ever seen. Elliot, why are your eyes so dark." Elliot chuckled.

"Cause both of my parents have dark green eyes," he replied. Paulina huffed.

"I think that was rude of you. You should have bright green eyes like the ghost boy," she said.

"Yeah, it's pretty rude," Elliot agreed. "I'll fix that tomorrow."

"Do you actually think Danny Phantom's cute?" Danny asked Sam. She smiled, giving a half-shrug.

"Absolutely one of the cutest guys I've ever seen," she confirmed.

Danny took a long drink of his coffee, hoping that chugging some of it would help explain why his cheeks were beginning to burn.

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"Oh, this is sooo your color!"

"Oh my god! I love it! Do they have it in my size?"

"Hmm, um, lemme see...yeah! They do! Here!"

"Ugh I cannot wait to try it on! Oh! Oh look! Look at these sleeves, it's like a princess dress! I'm going to grab one to try it on."

"Ooo, that's going to look so good on you. Hm, I think I might try on that one too, cause it comes in dark purple and those sleeves kinda look witchy...Danny what do you think?"

Danny snapped out of his zoning out to look at Sam. The goth was holding up a short dress with long, flowy sleeves. It was a mid-dark purple and plain, though he had no doubt that Sam would likely customize it to her liking. She did that a lot with clothes.

"Yeah, looks good," he said neutrally.

"Oh, that'll look so good with your bat heels!" Elliot pipped up. Danny nearly forgot that the dude was sitting with him on what was dubbed the boyfriend bench near the dressing rooms. "Especially if you wear a corset over the midsection. Like if you found a purple version of that red one you have, with the black lace over it."

"Oo, that would potentially look so cute," Sam mused. She put the dress over her arm on top of two others. "I'm gonna go try these on."

"Oh, I should too," Paulina mused. Unlike Sam, her arms were overflowing with four, five? Danny counted at least ten different potential dresses if he went by the different looking fabrics alone.

"Yeah, you need to narrow some down," Sam told her.

"They're all just so pretty!" Paulina complained. "I wanna wear them all!"

"Well, let's just eliminate some," she suggested.

The girls went off to the dressing room, and Danny leaned back against the boyfriend bench. He pulled his phone out, and he replied to a message from Tucker and another from his mom. Man, was he not ready to face her later.

"So, Sam huh."

Danny glanced at Elliot.

"Uh, yeah. She's great," Danny replied shortly.

"She is, she is," he agreed with a slight hum. Elliot shifted to rest his elbows on his knees. "Ya know I was thinking about asking her to prom." Danny felt a lump stick in his throat.

"Really?" was all he could think to reply.

"Yeah!" Elliot smiled. "I mean, yeah. I wasn't the best dudes four years ago, but I feel a lot better about myself, ya know? I think I finally know who I am now, and I still really like Sam. She's funny, smart, really pretty. Love hanging out with her. Kinda wondering if she feels the same, and if she'd be down to go with me. What do you think?"

Danny bit his tongue to avoid an unnecessarily harsh reply, but he did get anger. How dare he. After all the lies he told Sam, and the way he lied and manipulated her. Sam deserved better than that.

"I um. I don't think you should go for it," Danny said hesitantly. Elliot raised a curious eyebrow.

"Why, did she tell you something?" he asked. "Or did somebody else ask her?"

"Um. Well, not exactly," he hesitated. Danny bit his lower lip. "I mean, I know she likes you. As a friend!" he quickly added. "But uh, I dunno man. Just don't think it's a good idea."

"What do you mean, is somebody else going to ask her?" Elliot asked.

"Why does it matter?" Danny nearly snapped. "You asked me what I thought, and I said it."

Elliot snickered in amusement, rolling his eyes. It only served to irritate Danny even more. Foreign phony. God, why did they even hang out with Elliot? Paulina and Elliot made sense, cause they were both huge prep kids and did cheerleading and soccer respectively, making them both jocks. But why did he have to hang out with Elliot. Well, because Sam and Paulina were friends now, and that meant that Danny also had to be friends with Paulina's friends. Of fucking course.

"What's so funny?" he demanded to know.

"I think I get why," Elliot smirked.

"What do you mean?" Danny questioned. Elliot just shook his head. Danny opened his mouth to question again.

"Hey! Whatcha think?"

Danny shut his mouth as Paulina bounce out in her first dress option. It was a bright pink dress that came to her knees, the skirt incredibly puffy and reminding Danny of a ballerina tutu, with inch wide straps.

"Oh, it looks so good on you boo," Elliot cooed to her. Paulina beamed, twirreling. "But that may also just be you, you look fabulous in everything." Paulina put her hands over her chest.

"Thank you," she gushed. "Can you take my photo? I wanna compare all the dresses I wear."

"Of course," Elliot agreed, pulling his phone out. He snapped a photo of her.

"Oh Sam!" Paulina squealed.

Danny noticed the goth coming out in a fully black dress that also came only to her knees, with a much slimmer skirt and short sleeves. It looked fairly plain, but man. Sam still made it look great. Danny was glad he was sitting, because he knew he was weak kneed.

Sam was smiling brightly, giving Paulina a light wave.

"I take it you like it?" Sam questioned, doing a quick turn around.

"Girl you always look so good in black," Paulina praised.

"She's sooo right," Elliot agreed. "It just looks so good on you, no matter what. Just." Elliot made a chef kiss motion. Sam flushed a light pink, and Danny glared at him. Dude, shut up. "No wonder you're goth. You were just made for black."

"I dunno, I think you're exaggerating," she replied. Sam glanced down at her outfit. "I mean, it's fairly simple. What do you think, Danny?"

Danny swallowed hard.

"Oh uh, I think it looks great!" he said, smiling brightly. Sam returned it. "I mean like. It's kinda? Plain but I know you'd make it something great. You always do." Sam hummed.

"Mm yeah. It's pretty plain, but I dunno if I wanna put in the amount of work it'd take to make this dress really poppin'," she mused. "I'm gonna go try another one on."

The two girls went back to the dressing room, and Danny could hear their lighthearted conversation. Soon as they turned the corner, he spoke up.

"What do you mean?" Danny demanded to know. Elliot snorted.

"Bro, just admit that you like her, and that you don't want me to take her to prom," he said.

"Where on earth would you get that idea!?" Danny scowled. Elliot rolled his eyes.

"Dude, you've been crazy about her since like, what? Ninth grade at the earliest? Paulina says you two have been making googly eyes at each other since like third grade," he said. Danny felt his cheeks flush. It had not been since the third grade. Had it?

"It's not like that," he insisted. "I just, you know. Really love and worry about her, she's my best friend."

"Best friends don't get worked up like this, this much, over a mutual friend asking them out."

Danny just glared at Elliot before rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. He took a deep breath, exhaling hard.

"How's it look?" Sam's voice asked. Danny glanced up, and his heart just absolutely flipped.

She looked amazing. Beautiful. Stunning. Like a plant goddess, a model, an angel. He felt like there wasn't a flaw to be found, and he had never seen somebody look more enchanting. Her dress made her look even more divine, emphasising and showing off the best parts of her. The purple matching her eyes, the dress fitting her absolutely perfect as it flowed almost to the floor and the strapless feature making her hair flow smoothly over her shoulders. This dress was perfect for her.

But none of those descriptors came out. Instead all he could do is nervously swallow, tongue tied as he felt his cheeks burn up. He struggled to pick just one of those adjectives, and his brain settled for just saying nothing at all and simply staring at her instead.

"Oh, you just look so lovely!" Elliot spoke up. He stood up, going over to walk around her. "It fits you perfect, like it hugs your hips just right and really shows off your-"

"Pretty!" Danny suddenly half-yelled. The group looked at him oddly, and he felt his face flush harder. "It makes you look pretty!"

"Thank you," Sam replied, pausing a bit as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"...Uh, yeah. Um, yes!" Elliot clasped his hands together. "Just stunning. I love this purple on you, it's such a beautiful color. This dress specifically was made for you."

"Dude, chill," Danny grumbled. Sam gave him a Look, and he flinched.

"Danny, can I talk to you for a moment?" Sam asked through gritted teeth.

He had no opportunity to respond, as she grabbed his arm, painfully hard owwie, and began to drag him away, towards another boyfriend bench near a jewelry display counter and out of earshot.

"What's going on?" Sam demanded to know. She finally let go of his arm, and he huffed for a moment. Instead of responding, he put his hands behind his head, pacing back and forth. She quickly grew impatient. "Well? Say something!"

"Elliot wants to ask you to prom!" he blurted out, letting his hands fall. Sam blinked.

"He does?" she asked, sounding clearly surprised and...not angry. Sam smiled a little. "Really?"

"Oh don't tell me you're gonna actually take that foreign phony up on the offer!" Danny snapped. Sam instantly glared at him, crossing her arms.

"Elliot's our friend, dude," Sam reminded him. "Why do you care?"

"B-b-because!" Danny's arms were moving wildly as he talked. "He lied to you for months, and you're just going to ignore all that!"

"That was years ago, and he apologized," she said. "He's more than made up for it. And he's a super sweet guy. I like him."

"You like him!?" Danny nearly shouted. Sam slapped his upper shoulder with the back of her hand.

"Calm down and lower your voice," she told him. "And well, yeah. As a friend. Maybe I kinda like him more than that too."

"What the fuck, Sam!?" Danny, in fact, did not lower his voice. He dry-heaved for a few seconds, briefly making Sam start to watch him worriedly. Finally, he took a deep breath, and he returned to a normal inside voice. "What does he have that I don't?"

She went from worried to a blank stare.

"Apparently liking me enough to say or do something, especially when I've dropped so many hints or made moves myself," she replied. She brushed past him and left, returning to their friends.

Danny found himself taking a seat on the bench as he tried to collect his thoughts and the wide range of emotions that accompanied them. He put his head in his hands, rubbing his face. God he was so fucking stupid.

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"And it's just! Why him! Why Elliot?" Danny continued to vent after spilling the whole story. Jazz gave a small hum of acknowledgement as she finished writing another name out on the envelope. She set it aside for Danny. "I've liked Sam for so long, and I thought she liked me too."

"You're an idiot," Jazz immediately concluded. Danny glared at her as he folded another wedding invite, slipping it into an already addressed envelope before putting the sticker on the back to keep it sealed shut, and a stamp on the other side. Both were sitting on the floor of the apartment she shared with Spike, with each sibling on the opposite side of the coffee table, with Jazz resting her back against the couch and Danny sitting within reaching distance of their TV.

"Hey!" he protested. Jazz gave him a Look, grabbing another envelope.

"I mean it. She does like you, and she has for a while," she told him. She began to write out another address. "You just always never responded. You pushed her off in favor of another girl or because of some weird commitment issue that you seem to have going on. So be honest with me, and yourself. What's the problem?"

Danny silently folded two more invites, repeating the process of putting them in addressed envelopes and putting the sticker and stamp on.

"...I'm scared," he finally admitted.

"What of?" Jazz asked, not looking up from her activity. Danny had to really think. He casually tossed the finished wedding invite into the 'finished' basket.

"I guess just...it not working out. What if it doesn't work out? What if it drives us apart, and we lose each other?"

"You won't know that until you try," Jazz replied.

"She might also reject me, cause of the same mentality. What if she still likes Elliot more, and-"

"Danny," Jazz interrupted. She finally looked up from writing. "You will never know what the future will and won't hold. Just talk to her, and let her be part of the choice rather than blowing it all off due to fear."

He thought about it, and he gave a small sigh.

"Yeah...I think she's kinda pissed that I haven't been letting her be part of the choice anyway," he mused. He glanced at the pile of envelopes next to her. "How many invites do you have left?"

Jazz checked her list.

"Least a hundred more to go," she sighed.

"What the fuck, you have like no friends! Who are these people!?" Danny cried out. Jazz glared at him, reaching behind her to grab a pillow to hit him with.

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Knock knock knock.

Danny floated awkwardly outside of her window. She didn't answer, but he could tell that she was there. Her light was clearly on, and he could hear her music playing.

Knock knock knock.

"Sam?" he called out. "Sam, can we please talk?" He knocked some more.

The longest minute of his life passed before he heard the music turn off. The curtains opened, and Sam was on the other side, staring incredibly annoyed at him. She gestured for him to come inside, and he did. His feet landed on the floor, and she reshut the curtains.

"What do you want?" she snapped. Danny exhaled deeply.

"Sam…" He took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry about how I've been acting. I've just been…"

"Stupid?" she suggested.

"Yeah. But more importantly. I." He paused. "I've been honestly such a huge coward. Still kinda am, actually. Like…" He swallowed nervously, glancing at the ground. "I've been too afraid to bring it up or to really even talk to you about it."

Sam cocked her head to the side. She took a few steps back, sitting down on her bed and patting the spot next to it.

"Talk to me," she encouraged. Danny plopped down next to her, turning human as he did so.

"I want to be with you," he said bluntly. "But just...I get so caught up in all these what-ifs. What if it doesn't work out? What if you get tired of me? What if you eventually realize that it sucks being with somebody who has to cancel dates or who ditches you because I have to stop Skulker or Technus or Ember? What if you get hurt because of me? What if…" he trailed off, not even wanting to get into deeper thoughts.

"I wish you had told me this sooner," Sam spoke softly. "We could have talked about it." Danny sighed.

"I know, I know. I just." He rubbed the palms of his hands up and down his thighs as he tried to provide some kind of a rational answer. "I'm afraid. Even now. I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," Sam reassured him. She put her hand on top of one of his, and he stopped. "You're one of my best friends, and I love you so much."

"...I love you too," he confessed. He turned his wrist, moving to intertwine their fingers together. "I can't imagine a future without you being there in some way. And I just...I guess I've always been worried about you not wanting to be there anymore."

"I'll always want to be there," she smiled. She leaned in, lightly pecking his cheek. He sighed deeply in relief. "Even if we tried, and we found that it didn't work, that doesn't mean we can't still be friends after. But we'll never really know unless...you know. We tried."

"So, I guess that means that um...you'd be interested in maybe going to prom with me?" he asked.

"Of course, ya dingus." She lightly tapped his new nose ring. "So. How much trouble are you in with your mom?" Danny flinched.

"Man, let's just say I'm surprised she didn't fully kill me."

#phic phight 2021 #danny phantom #amethyst ocean #phics #my phics

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thewildomega · 4 years

Text

Second Chance ch.3

Sitting at the table you held your now cold tea cup in your hands, not moving or making a sound as Edward finished his story. Blinking a few times you opened your mouth a few times, thinking about what to say.

Seeing her so stiff he swallowed down the last bit of his tea and looked to her. "I know this is all probably a bit much to comprehend lass.... eh ah... do you have any questions?"

Lifting your cup you took a sip of your tea and sighed. "Just want to clarify a few things..." you said and saw him nod. "You died in this war but somehow ended up here?"

"Yes."

"You are this Emperor of the sea, which there are...four of?"

"Yes, well I suppose I was. Since I did die in my world someone else will most likely take that position." he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Okay and lastly you are seventy-two years old."

"Correct."

Clicking your tongue you nodded slowly, "Well you...aged well, congratulations." you said, standing from the table and moving to start clearing the table.

He continued sitting in his seat for some time, watching her. She kept her back to him mostly, her eyes never lifting to his as she cleaned up from the small supper she had made them. He supposed it was a bit much to take in, if someone had come to him spouting such a story he would have a hard time believing them as well. Taking a deep breath he stood from the small table and carried his cup over to her. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you lass. Truth is I don't much understand why I was sent here either? I was ready to join my fallen sons in the afterlife."

Sighing you took the cup when he held it out for you and glanced up to his eyes. Such strange colored yellow eyes, never before had you ever seen anyone with his color eyes, well not unless they were wearing contacts. All the same though, you could have sworn you had seen them somewhere before. They were very warm looking, no ill intent hidden in them. The whole time he had been telling you his story you had been searching his eyes for any lie, to your surprise though, there was none. Everything he had told you had been the truth, you could feel it. "So what is it you plan to do now?" you asked, continuing to wash the dishes.

Leaning back against the counter he crossed his arms over his chest. "Haven't quite figured that out yet. I went to that lake today, looked around. Didn't see any signs on how to get back home. What were you doing there last night when you found me?"

"Swimming." you answered simply.

"Swimming? Mighty late to be going swimming lass, cool as well." he said with furrowed brows. When she said nothing he let out a little hum.

Looking back down you let out the water and stacked the dishes in the drying rack as you thought. Biting your lip you dried your hands and tossed the rag to the counter. "Well how about we figure this out in the morning? I have a spare room you can stay in, bed might be a bit small but it's either that or the couch." you told him, crossing your arms and looking up to him.

A little shocked he looked down at her with his brows raised. "You are offering me a place to stay?"

"Sure, I mean I am the one that found you so I guess that makes you my problem for the time being right?" you asked with a small grin. When he smirked you raised a brow, "Not unless you prefer to sleep outside?"

Chuckling he smiled, "Thank you darling. I will try to be as little of a problem as possible."

Smiling you turned towards the living room, "I'll hold you to that." Turning off the lights you showed him to the guest room that was down the hall from your own room. "Here you go, there's a bathroom across the hall, if you want a shower, there are towels under the sink.

Looking into the room he saw it minimal like the rest of the home, a bed in the center of the room with a small dresser across from it. The bed it's self would be a tight fit but he would make it work, maybe sleep sideways... Looking to his host he smiled. "Thank you y/n." he said with a small bow of his head.

Flashing him a quick smile you nodded. "No problem." Turning towards your room you yawned. "Goodnight Edward." you said as you closed the door to your room.

"Goodnight Y/n." he said softy, watching her walk into her own room.

...............................

Walking out of the room the next morning he ran his fingers through his hair. His locks had always been a part of his appearance that he liked, when he had lost them it had been a sharp sign of how his age and health was was taking their tole on him. Now though, with his seemingly second chance he had them back again and found himself slightly enthusiastic to run his fingers through the curly golden strands again. Noticing Y/n's bedroom door open he guessed she was awake already and walked out into the living area to see if she was there. Finding the rest of the small home empty of the woman he knit his brows a little and walked to the kitchen when he saw something sitting on the dining table. Looking down at the plate of breakfast he rose a brow, was this for him? A fork and butter knife set beside the plate along with a napkin and an empty glass. Glancing around again for her he didn't see or hear anything. Even the small pin where that bear cub had been was empty. Walking around the table some he saw a near empty mug of what looked to be coffee on the counter. Touching his knuckle to the side of the cup he felt it still warm, she hadn't been gone long, where ever she was. When something caught his eye out of the window he looked up to see something that made the corners of his lips lift up. There she was, his savior, sitting out in the grass with the bear cub attempting to wrestle her to the ground. Her hair was down again today, hanging wild and free around her. She looked to be wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. Seeing the small grin on her face as the cub gnawed at her arm he chuckled. Taking a deep breath he moved to eat the breakfast she had made.

It wasn't long after he had finished his food that she had came back inside, the cub following it's all in all mother closely. Rinsing the plate from where he had washed it he placed it in the drying rack and dried his hands on his pants. "Good morning there lass." he said with a grin.

Still smiling from where Nook had rammed into the back of your legs you snapped your eyes up when you heard his deep voice. Brushing your hair back out of your face you grinned at him, "Good morning." Closing the door behind Nook you looked back up and saw he had cleaned up after himself. "Was everything alright? I wasn't really sure what you liked to eat..."

Smiling he looked to the woman, "It was great, thank you kindly. I'm not a picky eater, really anything will do me just fine." he chuckled lightly.

Grinning softly you moved over to put Nook up, giving him a rub as you stood and took a deep breath. You had been thinking about this all night and then again all morning. "So I thought about it last night and I... well you are welcome to stay here until we can figure out a way to get you back home to your sons." you told him. Glancing around to your small abode you bit the inside of your lip. "It isn't really much to offer but it's somewhere." you told him. You knew your small cabin wasn't some grand place but you just couldn't see putting him out with nothing. Even if you had just met him there was something about him that made you want to help him, need to help him.

Crossing his arms over his chest he looked down to the small woman, "That is very generous of you y/n but I don't want to impose on you." he spoke and saw her smile a little.

Shrugging you grinned and flicked your eyebrows, "I'm not really here that much anyways so you won't be imposing. I mostly just come here to eat and sleep.... but it's your decision."

Feeling a warming in his chest at her kindness he smiled softly. Walking the few steps over to her he looked down at her and saw her e/c eyes raise to look into his. He had gotten pretty good at reading people in his long years, most of the time he could tell a person's character just by looking into their eyes, 'the windows to the soul' they were so commonly called and it was true. This woman, y/n, had one of the purest souls he had ever come across and in a way he couldn't explain, it felt like it was calling to him. "I don't know how to thank you lass, if there is something you need or something I could do to help you, you just let me know."

Smiling softly you looked up at the large man, "Just clean up after yourself and we'll get along fine." you told him and saw him nod.

"Yes ma'am." he grinned.

"Well then now that that's settled how about we go get you some clothes and whatever else it is that... men... need." you told him with a wave of your hand.

Looking down at his outfit he furrowed his brows. "What's wrong with these?"

"That shirt, that I don't recall you having when I checked you out of the hospital, doesn't even fit you, your pants have holes in them and blood soaked into them . And, you need more than just one outfit."

Seeing her standing there with her arms crossed over her chest and a look on her face that said she wasn't going to back down from this he sighed. "Very well. Lead the way." Noting her smile victoriously he couldn't help but grin as he followed her out other truck. Riding to where ever it was that people got clothes from here he looked out the window at the land around them before moving his eyes back to her. "How old are you lass?"

Driving down the road you kept your eyes on the road, "Twenty-three."

So he was practically fifty years her senior. If he took a guess based on his looks he would say he was probably back around her own age, maybe twenty-five. He still didn't understand why exactly he was suddenly younger or why he had been sent here but he was content on letting things play out. "What do you do for a living?"

"I work at the bar." you said as you turned off the interstate.

Humming he thought back to last night and realized it made more sense on why the man had been so drunk. "Are you from this town?" he questioned, curious about the woman who was helping to take care of him.

Taking a deep breath you kept a straight face. "No." you answered honestly. Feeling like he was going to ask more questions that you wouldn't want to go into or even think about you licked your lips and decided to quickly change the subject from you to him. "You said you had sons and daughters, how many?"

"Many." Seeing her raise a brow he tilted his head, "Over a hundred."

Blinking you opened and closed your mouth, thinking of what to say... "Wow.. um... are you married?"

Laughing he leaned back in the seat, knowing where her mind was going by the light blush on her cheeks. "No, no lass I'm not married, never have been. To answer that question floating through your head, They aren't mine by blood." he said with a small grin. "All my children are just simply those of my crew, people I took in, most of which didn't have anyone else to call family."

Listening to him explain it all to you you smiled softly as you drove. "That is very kind of you." you told him and heard him hum deeply.

"What about you darling, where's your fam..."

Quickly pulling into a spot you parked the truck and unbuckled your seatbelt. "We're here." you spoke, cutting him off.

Stopping mid sentence he furrowed his brows, watching her get out of the truck. Not saying anything for now he followed her lead and got out of the vehicle, shutting the door behind him and looking up to a large building. "This is all for clothes?" he asked.

"Well no, there is a whole bunch of other stuff too. It's a mall." you told him, dropping your keys into your purse. and pulling the bag onto your shoulder. "Ready?' you asked him and saw him nod.

Walking with her through the mall he saw many people walking around and going into the many different shops and such. Everything caught his attention and y/n was very patient with him, walking slowly and explaining things to him. Although he was much, much shorter here he still seemed to be taller than most and noticed a few people staring at him, something he was rather used to so it didn't bother him. When Y/n had noticed it he had quickly brushed her off. "It doesn't bother me darling. Trust me it's much worse back in my world."

"Why? Were you taller there or were other people shorter?" you asked.

Laughing he looked down to her, "Well a little of both I suppose you could say." Seeing her still a bit confused he grinned and leaned down to talk closer to her, holding out his hand. "Back in my world, I could hold you in the palm of my hand." seeing her look to him in disbelief he smiled and gave her a look telling her he wasn't joking, watching her look between his eyes and his open hand.

Taking him into a store that sold big and tall clothes you told him to look around and find some things he liked.

"Mind helping me out there lass?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head and looking across the many racks of clothes. He didn't exactly like the idea of her buying him clothes, didn't want to burden her.

Walking over to a shelf with pants you glanced again to him, trying to guess what size he wore. Finding a pair of black pants and a lighter pair of jeans you held them out for him to hold. Going over to the shirts you looked them over for a moment before pulling out a blue button up and holding it out for him to look over. When he grinned you hung it on one hand while you picked out another long sleeve shirt and then grabbed a few plain black t-shirts before moving on to other items.

At the end of the shopping trip he had been mortified when he saw the amount she had spent on him. He had never had anyone buy him things like that before. Normally it was him buying things for himself and others. Once they had arrived back at her home he had been surprised when she had helped him take the things inside and then move over to feed nook before she was again moving to leave. Learning she had to work that night he furrowed his brows but said nothing.

"There is food in the fridge an cabinets, I'm sure you can figure out something to make yourself. Make yourself at home and don't give Nook any more food, no matter how much he wines." you told him, giving your bear cub a look and noticing him fighting with the stuffed animal in the pin. "I won't be back until late tonight but he's good until then. Here is the TV remote, there are tons of channels and stuff to watch it you want and plenty of books." Turning on the TV you showed him how to flip through the channels and stuff before handing it to him. "Just please don't order anything. Other than that, you're good. If you need me, you know where the bar is."

Nodding along with everything he sighed as she left and then looked down to the bear cub. "Just me and you then." he said and heard the cub let out a growl of sorts before falling over into the blankets.

............................................

She hadn't been exaggerating when she told him that she wasn't here much. A week he had been living here with her and in that time he barely saw her. He had quickly found out that she worked long hours almost everyday. Most mornings he woke to find her already gone, breakfast made and waiting at the table for him. During the day he had a hard time keeping busy, he read some on the book that had caught his attention on her shelf. He would watch some of the TV she had showed him. He played with Nook and went for walks in the woods surrounding her house but overall he was beginning to grow bored. It had been so many years since he had been on his own, since he had decided to start his own crew, his family and now that none of them were here he didn't know what to do. Y/n didn't seem to come home till late at night, most of the time around midnight or so. Even then she didn't exactly come home. Hearing her tuck door shut one night he woke up and sat up in bed, listening to her enter the house. She moved around only a little bit, she was always quiet, before he would hear the back door open and close softly. growing curious one night he decided to follow her. Following the light from her lantern he walked behind her through the forest trail and down to the lake. Standing back in the trees he observed as she placed down the lantern and the towel that he had just noticed wrapped around her. Seeing the woman in nothing but a two piece bathing suit he swallowed hard, trying to convinced himself to look away but failing. He couldn't help from trailing his eyes over her moonlit skin and cursed himself, here he was some old man peeking at this young, attractive woman. Ashamed, he ought to be ashamed of himself but... he wasn't an old man... or at least he wasn't anymore.

Watching the beautiful woman walk out into the no doubt cold water he furrowed his brows, damn woman was going to freeze. What the hell was she thinking, swimming in this weather. Seeing her walk out waist deep before starting to swim he sighed. He couldn't very well say anything, then she would know he was following her, peeking at her. The thought alone of being caught made him blush a little. When he heard a splash he looked out to see her dive under the water. For a good minute she didn't come back up and he felt his nerves picking up. After another minute had passed he started to get worried, what if something had happened, had something grabbed her, was she drowning and he was just standing there watching? He couldn't swim in his world and he doubt he could in this one but damn if he was just going to let her die. Taking a step towards the water he heard movement and looked out to see her far out on the lake, her head coming up before she was going back under. Staring out wide eyed he blinked. She had held her breath that long? She had swam that far out? Maybe... were mermaids a race here? Or fishmen? She didn't look like either. Continuing to watch her he saw her get out to the middle of the lake and just float there, her eyes looking up at the night's sky. Sighing he felt that strange pulling in his chest again and furrowed his brows.

Deciding to leave her to her swim he walked back to the house and to his bedroom, closing the door and moving to lay in the bed. Staring up at the ceiling with his arm behind his head he thought about everything yet again. He wondered how his children were doing, how his world was making out since his 'death'. Hearing the back door close and lock softly he turned his head and saw her shadow go by under the door and blinked slowly. Listening to her enter her room, the door closing and then the sound of her shower turning on his mind drifted to the image of her in her bathing suit. Feeling heat pool to his lower abdomen and the twitch in his pants he closed his eyes tight, No, no. While he had never grown tired of seeing pretty women, even in his old age, his health had kept him from acting on those thoughts for the past few years. Now though it seemed his body was ready to get back at it. Still though it felt wrong, she wasn't some random woman, she was helping him, had opened her home to him, he couldn't. Hearing water hitting the floor he closed his eyes and grit his teeth at the knowledge of her being naked on the other side of the wall. As his pants grew incredibly tight he rubbed his face and rolled over, grumbling to himself as he tried to force himself to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning he was surprised to see her in the kitchen making breakfast, she was always gone when he woke up. "Well aren't you a pleasant surprise this morning lass. Figured you would already be gone for work."

Turning to look at him you gave him a small smile. "Good morning Edward. I actually have the day off today." you told him.

Moving towards her he saw her cooking bacon and eggs. Grabbing a glass he moved to the fridge to make himself a glass of water and taking the vitamins she had gotten him when he had kind of let it slip how he had been sick before. Since he had gotten here he had cut back on drinking substantially. He wouldn't lie though, he was really really craving some good sake but she had none. Swallowing the vitamin he sighed and then chuckled.

"What's so funny?' you asked, making his plate.

"Oh nothing just thinking about my son Marco, he's a medic and if he knew how you had gotten me to take these here vitamins without a fuss he'd probably hug you." he told her, moving to take his seat at the table.

"I take it you were a stubborn patient?" you asked with a grin as you place the plate of food in front of him, moving to grab his toast.

"A little." he admitted and heard her giggle. "Thank you darling." he said when she handed him his toast and fork. Watching her move to make her coffee before sitting down in front of him and doing something on her phone he furrowed his brows when he noticed her not eating as well. "Aren't you going to eat as well?"

Shaking your head you typed up the message to the wildlife officer that you were to meet with today. "No, I don't eat breakfast." you told him simply.

Frowning he looked down to his food and then up to her. Everyday he woke up to find she had made him breakfast and he had just assumed that she had eaten before work but know he knew that was not true. All this time she had been making him food. Come to think of it he had only seen her eat a handful of times since he had been her. No wonder the damn woman was small. Standing from his seat he saw her look up to him with furrowed brows but said nothing. Grabbing her a plate from the cabinet he walked back over to his own plate and move one of the two eggs and a few slices of bacon onto the plate before placing it in front of her along with a fork. Sitting back down he saw her looking at him with a brow raised. "Eat." he said, lifting his own fork.

"Edward I'm fine, I really don't want..."

"I will not just sit here and continue eating your food while you go hungry..." seeing her go to speak he looked at her sternly, "Eat." he said again in the voice he used with his crew, the one meaning he meant business.

Huffing out you cut off a piece of egg and placed it in your mouth, "Happy?" you asked.

"Once you finish all of that." he told her, pointing his fork to her plate and seeing her shoulders drop. Stubborn woman. After making sure she ate all her food he helped her clean up. "So what are you planning on doing on your day off?"

"Well I actually took off because today is the day I have to take Nook to his new home." you said sadly.

Hearing this he looked to her and saw the bittersweet look on her face. "His new home?" he asked and saw her nod.

"Yea, he's finally in good enough shape that we are hoping we can introduce him to a foster mom." you explained. "She is a very friendly bear who has raised plenty cubs of her own so the idea is she will take him in and he will be able to have a normal life."

Humming he tilted his head, "Where is it you have to take him to?"

Letting out the dirty water you wiped off your hands and turned to him. "Glacier national park. It's more north, a good five hour drive from here."

"That's a long drive to make by yourself darling." he said, watching her move over to put on her boots and purse.

"It's worth it though, there's no hunting allowed in the park so he will be safe."

"How about some company then?" he asked and saw her smile.

"I'd like that."

#Whitebeard #whitebeard one piece #one piece whitebeard #whitebeard headcanons #whitebeard x reader #edward newgate #edward newgate x reader #edard newgate #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #soulmate au

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arewelonely · 3 years

Text

wait for me

cw: brief mention of alcohol, brief mention of suicidal ideation, fear of violence

part four

––

Draco found himself climbing stairs instead of descending them after his trip to the Room of Requirement. He enjoyed the pumping of his heart and the feeling of his calves tensing–different muscles than the ones he would use during Quidditch, but muscles all the same. He had never expected to play this year, at least not since his father started applying healing ointment to his forearm when he thought Draco and Narcissa were occupied. Salve did nothing to kill something alive, though, and the snake was only too pleased to be wiggling around again.

The windows seeped in cold air the higher Draco got, and he started jogging up the staircases when he realized the Astronomy tower was just a few flights away.

It was probably half one now, and Draco bit back a breath of release as he stepped out into the night, inhaling the fresh air. The moon twinkled on the chilled stones as Draco rested his forearms atop and leaned over them, surveying the grounds. Here was his school, his rambunctious haven.

An owl hooted in the woods and Draco’s eyes snapped in the direction. He couldn’t deny that he itched for a duel. He didn’t know why Snape hadn’t let them practice yet–of any year, this would be the most useful one.

He twirled his wand in his hands. It wasn’t as if Hogwarts had been safe every other year, but his friends had gone through it all with him. None of them had been there this past summer. Just Draco, the youngest at the table, surrounded by old men with long, stern faces that broke into laughter only after glasses of wine and discussions of annihilation.

If it was possible, Draco would allow the cold to sink into his skin. He’d allow it to chill his heart, his soul, and reduce him to a shell with magic coursing through his veins. Walk up to Dumbledore, cast an Avada Kedavra with some deep-sourced anger, and call for help.

In that order.

If the cold took over his body, he could do it in that order. He could watch the muscles relax on a man’s face and feel no remorse. He could pretend he was Voldemort. He could pretend he was better than his father.

Draco pressed his hands to his eyes, his wrists digging into his cheekbones. Fuck. His facial structure was similar to that of his mother.

Her migraines, when he was younger, were eased with his cool hands pressed to her forehead. He’d sit by her bed, talking softly, pressing his hands on her forehead. Her brow bone dipped just as his did. Her cheekbones angled around her eyes in the exact same manner. He couldn’t even attempt to self soothe, if rubbing the desperation out of his eyes could even be called that, without a painful twinge in his stomach. The family twinge. The loyalty twinge. The vague jumping off the Astronomy Tower twinge. The ‘it’s time for bed’ twinge.

---

Even Professor McGonagall, usually so diplomatic, offered a few words with undertones that Hermione knew she was meant to catch. The boys, it made sense–they were overprotective and chock-full of rivalry and aggravation. But McGonagall? It made her stop.

“I…” she frowned over the papers she was sorting. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows, eyes pointed behind her glasses. “Why not? I hardly think you’ll disagree that the atmosphere here is more tense than in past years.”

Hermione sat back and blinked. “I mean, yes, but… you’re a professor. It’s your job to help cultivate the atmosphere. If some students are harming others, you have the authority to act.”

“And I did,” Professor McGonagall uncrossed her arms, gesturing to Hermione seated in front of her desk. “You solved the dispute before I arrived. You are serving detention for how it occurred. Mr. Malfoy is serving detention for his actions as well.”

“And future danger? I’m just supposed to ‘stay alert’?” Hermione shook her head, hands coming up to gesture around her, “what on Earth do you think I’ve been doing this whole–”

“Ms. Granger!”

Hermione breathed out harshly. “It’s just,” she gripped the edges of her chair, “I’ve been alert for six years. Longer in the Muggle world. I’m frustrated.”

Professor McGonagall nodded, flourishing her wand to conjure teacups and a kettle on the table that separated them. “I hear you. It is not fair.”

She poured the tea and Hermione watched the steam rise.

“Here you go. Hermione…” she hesitated, and then nodded. “You’re doing wonderfully. Truly.”

---

The nights were longer than the days, and the portraits no longer awoke with how softly she was able to traipse through the hallways and into the library. Some nights, Hermione felt as if she was getting close to something–the Daily Prophet articles from the ‘70s seemed to have a thread connecting them, and the Quibbler’s current information either corroborated or provided enough contrasting evidence that she could create quite a few hypotheses to run by Harry and Ron (the Muggle attacks were almost too random… the families too unknown to make sense).

Tonight, though, Hermione’s brain wouldn’t concentrate. The books reshelved themselves just a bit too loudly and the walls kept creaking ominously. The wind was whirring outside and she could have sworn she was not alone, though her squints into the darkness of the shelves and peers out of the windows into the night gave her no relief. She exhaled loudly in frustration. Let her wand clatter on the table, pressed her head into her folded arms.

How old would she be before she could relax?

The darker, quieter question: would she even survive to a time without hyper vigilance?

Her ankle twitched, then suddenly jerked–Hermione gasped.

The bone stung, pain soaring through her leg. She scrambled for her wand. Her braids thumped against her back as she spun around and whipped a Stupefy! through the air.

Her eyes darted around furiously when only books tumbled to the ground. “Lumos.”

Then–

“Holy hell,” she breathed out, finding the culprit leaning against a bookshelf behind her. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. His wand dangled from his hands. “Out of bed quite late, aren’t you, Granger?”

“What on Earth gives you the right to–agh–” She winced, bracing her wandless hand on the table as her ankle rolled. She shifted her weight to the other leg as she stood fully and glanced behind Malfoy: he was alone, stark white against the dull auburn and blues of the shelves.

He raised his eyebrows. “Looking for help? You’ll get none. I almost thought McGonagall would appear once Gryffindor’s Princess was in trouble, but it turns out that even the brave lack–”

He faltered and Hermione huffed out a laugh, wand arm tensing. “‘Gryffindor’s–’”

Malfoy snorted. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight. “You left me injured and punished, what did you think you’d get?” He lifted his chin.

“Is this really some childish eye for an eye?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, the moonlight seeping in through the library windows making his eyes glint. “No, I think that by the time we’re done here, you’ll have lost a bit more than an eye.”

But the bags under his own were still heavy, and his shoulders drooped forwards, as if he was hugging himself more than exuding dominance with the folded arms, and Hermione found herself far more annoyed than fearful.

“Alright, well, I’ve got things to do, so why don’t you just get on with it.”

Malfoy blinked and then resumed his smirk. “Eager, are you?”

“Bored of you,” Hermione responded. “You’re too predictable, even if you’re slower this year.”

His nostrils flared and he stepped closer; Hermione raised her wand. “You think you have me all figured out, you filthy little–”

“Mudblood, eh?” Hermione shook her head. “It doesn’t bother me anymore. Too much exposure to a word reduces its impact on a person. Have you experienced that with ‘Lord’ Voldemort?”

He lunged forward again. Hermione debated whether she could heal her ankle and have her wand pointing back at him quickly enough.

“You know nothing–”

“No? You’re exhausted this year, spending all your time alone and out of sight. You’re tormenting others less because you have too much on your mind. You don’t strut around the castle like you’re in charge anymore–you’re not–and even when you seek it out, you’re incapable of actually showing any power. I mean, you’re just standing there with that dim, stunned look on your face and letting me talk because you simply don’t have the will to–”

Hermione cast her shield charm just seconds before Malfoy finally snapped out of it. Amusement bubbled up in her chest. Oh, this was excellent. Malfoy, off his entire game.

He snarled when the Expulso dissolved easily off of Hermione’s defenses and dodged the Stupefy that she whirled in his direction. He sneered. “You think I’d fall for that again?”

He alternated Stupefys and Stinging Hexes, but Hermione cast a still stronger defensive charm, feeling her gut clench as she pressed it farther and farther away from her. She winced, holding her wand arm steady, until the intensity of the curses ricocheting off became too much and the magic all exploded between the two with an echoing boom.

Hermione used this moment of chaos to dart to the other side of the table, directing all her energy towards her ankle–

“Shit!” she gasped, crumpling to the floor as Malfoy’s tripping jinx hit her.

He chuckled (the prat, trying to give off the illusion he was in control) and she shot a spell at the bookshelf behind him, causing vines to grow out of the wood and entangle the boy in front as his smirk morphed into confusion and then disbelief.

She hastily fixed the sprain in her ankle, then scrambled to her feet to shoot a rope at Malfoy’s, binding them together just as he stumbled out of the vines–the bookshelf toppled sideways to the ground, books clattering everywhere and echoing around the room. Malfoy followed them, plunging forward, but flung his wand arm out as he fell. His magic pulled Hermione back to hit against the wall harshly and then rise in the air. She strained against the Levicorpus, “Merlin–”

He groaned, getting slowly to his feet. “You’re not beating me that easily–”

“So you were going easy on me?” she huffed, legs dangling as her spine pushed more against the wall.

He schooled his expression. “Yes.”

Hermione laughed down at him, watching as the rage crept back across his face. His nostrils flared and he tilted his wand–Hermione held back a sound, her face contorting as the hold around her waist intensified. She was dragged farther up, nestled between the ceiling and the wall. She clutched her wand tighter and pointed it down in his direction–

Malfoy let out a grunt as her bruising charm hit just above his hip. He doubled over and Hermione yelped as she lurched to the ground, her weight pushed on to her knees. Her wand dug into her palm when she landed. She grimaced and lifted her head, watching Malfoy watch her from under his hair. His eyes were sky-colored. His face stoic. His wand arm, shaking.

“This is easy for you?” she asked.

He snapped up and fired spell after spell in quick succession–she vanished the ropes that spewed out of his wand, reflected the hexes back at him so he had to jump away. She scanned the scattered books quickly and then aimed her wand at the awful monster book. She smirked as it unleashed, squealing at its freedom and immediately munching everything in its path. Malfoy grunted and tried in vain to stun it into silence, but as soon as the book sensed his frustration, it chose him as its only target.

Hermione watched and let her heart rate return to normal as the book backed Malfoy up against a wall. He looked fearful, and tired, and he refused to glance her way even as she stepped closer, her arms crossed, wand dangling.

The book growled at his feet.

“Would you like some help?”

Malfoy’s eyes flashed and he shot another spell at her–his knuckles whiter than usual. She deflected it easily and raised her eyebrows. She revelled in the fact that he was breathing more heavily than she was.

He flinched and lifted a foot when the book growled again and lurched forward. “Fuck!” He tried to stun it again and again, trapped against the wall with the book steadily eating through the tips of his Pureblooded wizard shoes. He shot fire at it, which startled the book for a second, but it just shook to extinguish the flames and started forward again. He locked eyes with Hermione. “Fuck, just–”

She bent down and stroked along its spine, her nose twitching with pride when it relaxed and opened up. She stood and backed away again, her arms crossed. “Hagrid taught that to us four years ago.”

Malfoy scoffed and cracked his neck from side to side. “It’s not like I was going to…” he shook his head and avoided eye contact.

Hermione snorted out a laugh. Yeah? He wasn’t going to need it?

“So?” she straightened her back proudly. “Was this enjoyable for you? You got what you wanted?”

Malfoy’s stare was ice.

“Because, from my point of view,” Hermione turned back to gesture to her neat work still sitting on the table and the overturned bookshelf behind it, “I got a welcome distraction from my studies, and all you did was cause a mess. But it was easy for you, right?”

Malfoy’s nostrils flared.

“This was what you wanted?”

“Fuck off, you fowl–”

“I just bested you,” Hermione said, humor in her voice, her blood pumping joyfully. “You really want to insult me?”

“Don’t think that just because you’re still standing means you’ve won,” Malfoy growled.

“Oh, I would never.” Hermione lifted up the side of her mouth in a small smile. “The war is far from over.”

She walked back to her table and packed up her bag, acting quickly to quell the tears that suddenly pricked her eyes. There was a statement far more honest than she had been anticipating.

She sent her books flying to their shelves, tossing a “you’re going to clean all this up, right?” over her shoulder, and she tried not to laugh too vocally when one of her books landed happily on top of an overturned pile on the floor. Hermione turned to find Malfoy still against the wall, a hand rubbing at his forehead.

Gosh, what an odd evening.

“Well,” she said.

He looked down at the floor that separated them.

“Thank you for going easy on me.” Hermione pressed her lips together. “Because clearly, your powerful blood was too much for mine.”

Malfoy’s eyes flared and he started forward, jaw clenched–“you fucking–”

Hermione stepped back, her wand held in front. “Have fun cleaning, hm? See you in Potions tomorrow, Malfoy.”

She didn’t let herself break into a grin until she exited the room, didn’t turn around until the library door shut behind her, didn’t make a sound until she had confirmed it was only her in the dimly lit halls–

And then she spun around, looking at her hands and letting her bag swing from her arms–

She had done it. Her hands and this wand had overpowered this stupid boy. Her brain had worked fast, she had moved deftly, she wanted to tell someone–her parents, maybe–

She halted outside of the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. She couldn’t tell her parents, she really couldn’t. That would require them knowing that she had fought someone. That would require them knowing she was a target, there was a power hierarchy here far more dramatic than they realized.

“Well? You’ve already woken me up, are you just going to stand there?” Eugenia frowned from her position in the painting.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hermione shook her head. “Lutra lutra.”

“Alright,” Eugenia huffed, moving forward to let Hermione pass behind. “Maybe go to bed a little earlier from now on, huh? I was fast asleep until you came in…”

Hermione shut the door behind her and relaxed against it. She’d tell the boys in the morning. She winced. Or, maybe, she wouldn’t… they’d worry, too. They’d go after Malfoy, even though she had just handled it… they’d tell her to be even more careful. They’d tell her not to visit the library at night, perhaps.

And she liked her nighttime library visits. They were some of the only times she was alone. She got to spread out her books without wondering if someone would joke at her for their abundance. She could forget what it was and wasn’t normal for her to know, because all the information could be found somewhere in the room with her.

She bit her lip as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. No, she wouldn’t tell Harry or Ron. She’d just take a shower, grin giddily in the adrenaline high that still surrounded her, and then pass out in her bed until the morning came.

---

The boys were all asleep when he returned, soft snores and haphazardly-drawn curtains around their beds. Draco made sure to pull his all the way shut. He tended to need much more privacy than Nott did (he fell asleep starfished among the sheets with the moonlight shining across the bed) and he particularly didn’t want them to see these new bruises. He had already had to make up excuses for Granger's previous gifts–he had tripped, yes, clumsy lad.

Really, anything except for the fact that Hermione Granger had beat him, twice, barely two weeks apart.

His forearm forbade him from forgetting this fact, though. The snake bit the inside of his skin and flared up into faint hives.

He knew he hadn’t been trying tonight, the mental haze not letting up enough for him to really have a go at her. But he hadn’t expected her to be that quick, particularly when she had not previously prepared.

In class, Granger’s speed was one thing–he could understand being ready to prove one’s worth to the professor and peers. But going from deep in thought, scribbling away, to slamming him against the bookshelves in the next second and almost causing him to drop his wand in shock–

That was something else entirely.

He pressed his face into the pillow as his neck heated. The thing was, Granger had known she was good. She hadn’t shied away from it, as she did sometimes in class, or beamed like a childish puppy when being praised. She had held his eye contact when he hesitated and acted before he could think and her fucking composure was absolutely admirable.

And his brain wouldn’t move fast enough to allow him to find a way out, to come out on top. And the snake was pissed.

Merlin forbid this block ever happen around Voldemort. Hopefully fear would get in the way, banish the numbness. The snake would truly slither out of his skin then, unable to resist, so close to its master.

Around Granger, appearing weak was mortifying, but redeemable. Draco pulled his wand into his chest, hoping to drown into sleep soon. The morning would come, and the snake could berate him then.

---

The war was a full-time class on top of her already bursting course load, but there was no reason for her to complain about it–Harry’s scar hurt him every other day, he was not concerned enough about that stupid Potions book of his, and Ron was beginning to fall apart with the lack of sleep and stress, watching his two best friends crumble in slow motion. She couldn’t crumble. Never, and especially not when it would cause her joyful ginger to blotch red on his chest from emotion.

Days shortened, and while this was normal for cold autumn, the crowded common rooms and flickering fires didn’t feel quite as comforting as they usually did. The setting sun only reminded Hermione of how little time they had to prepare.

She tuned out the portraits’ mutterings as she rushed down the hall to catch dinner before it closed; she had gotten quite into an assignment for one of her classes, and had remained in the library long after her friends had departed.

It felt good to enjoy school, and Hermione had tucked her feet under her, leaning over the table and scribbling away. But her stomach’s hunger pains had grown too intense, and she had promised to meet up for dinner, so she shelved away her books for later and left the warm lull of the library.

Everyone was probably either at dinner already, or perhaps back in the common rooms… the sun barely let any light through the windows, it was so close to kissing the horizon.

Hermione sighed as she turned a corner, bringing up her hands to rub her sore and puffy eyes. Being awake for too long was, predictably, exhausting.

“Hey.”

Hermione yanked her hands away from her face and shook her head to herself. Malfoy stood a few paces in front of her.

He had left her alone in the week since their library fight. She wasn’t naïve enough to think he wouldn’t retaliate (again) but she truly had no time for this today. None of his tricks, none of his–

“Hey, come here.” Malfoy jerked his head in the direction of a broom closet, one hand holding it open and the other waving in her direction.

Eyebrows raised high. What did he think he was playing at now?

“Bug off.” She increased her pace and crossed her arms as she walked past him, chin held high.

“Get over–Granger–”

He reached out as if to grab at her and she flinched away. What the hell was he doing? “Back the fuck up–”

“Shut up,” he hissed, and she scoffed.

“Excuse me?”

A bang! hit the end of the hall in front of her and Hermione’s head shot in the direction. Shadows moved in the faint light, laughter and footsteps growing louder, and Malfoy grabbed at her arm and yanked, pulling her stumbling into the dark closet.

He had only just closed the door behind him when Hermione shoved him into it. “What the fuck–”

“Shut up, Granger,” he growled, “please–”

He clapped his hand over her mouth. Hermione’s eyes widened. Her knee flew up to hit him in the crotch.

He groaned and bent forward, his hand’s steady pressure over her mouth only increasing.

“Please,” he whispered, “you need to keep quiet…” he placed his other hand gently over her arm against the wall, turning around as if waiting for something outside of the closet. Hermione’s heart beat faster.

Okay, okay. She could knee him in the nuts again, punch him until he let go, grab her wand and–

Muffled, gruff: “thought you said she was all alone?” Crabbe.

“Yeah, she was. I saw her, headed this way.”

Malfoy exhaled shakily, his eyes darting over to meet Hermione’s, peering out above his hand on the lower half of her face. He broke their eye contact quickly, looking down while his hand remained on her mouth.

“Well, I’m all amped up, I was promised a bitch–”

“Yeah, Goyle, I know–”

“You should know, you were the one who promised her to me–”

“The Mudblood was here, I’m telling you.”

Hermione blinked and reached for her wand in her pocket.

“Seriously, I had told Father he wouldn’t have to worry about any of this shit this year,” Crabbe continued. “But Draco’s just being a moody piss so far–”

“I’m too used to him rounding up the Mudbloods for us. You’re nowhere near as good at it.”

Hermione paused, her wand halfway between pressing against Malfoy’s side, so he would step away from her, and slamming the door wide open so she could hex the Slytherins into oblivion. But Malfoy noticed her movement and shook his head slowly at her, his eyes open wide. He pressed a bit further against her arm. The message was clear: stay here.

But his jaw fidgeted and he struggled to swallow, and when Hermione moved her arm to place her hand on his forearm, that was shaking, too. They were still, save their joined arms–Malfoy’s fingers shivered against Hermione’s elbow, and she found that his rattled too, when her fingertips placed on top of his robes. He blinked quickly and Crabbe and Goyle’s voices grew quieter, and it really was odd, that Malfoy was more scared than she.

Hermione bit her lip. Draco's face rippled as he felt this movement against his palm. He lifted it away, their arms still connected by their sides.

She could barely see his face in the dark, just the vague reflection of scattered light in his eyes. “What are you doing,” she whispered.

“I…” his voice was soft. His fingers cold. She watched his gaze drift down to their odd forearm hold. “I had to get you out of there.”

Her chest coiled. Hermione yanked her arm backwards. Malfoy looked stunned, shaken, startled out of the moment as she pushed him aside and flooded the hall light into the closet. The hallway was empty, Goyle and Crabbe gone, a stark lack of portraits on the walls to witness what could have been an insidious attack.

Hermione fumed. “You cannot–” she paced, turning around, her hands flying to her head as Malfoy slowly exited the closet. “You can’t just–I’m not–”

“You would have preferred I let them at you?” Malfoy drawled, an eyebrow raised.

Hermione scoffed, eyes raising to the ceiling. “And what were you doing the other day? Attempting the exact same thing?”

Malfoy pushed a hand through his hair. “No, that wasn’t…”

“Absolute shite,” Hermione declared, and she shook her head when Malfoy started and met her eyes. “Total shite. I could have handled myself against those two prats just as I annihilated you. What was this?”

He shrugged. Glanced around the hallway again. “There’s only so much I can do.”

His cheeks colored faintly, and Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s an absolutely rubbish lie.”

“I have orders,” he hissed.

Hermione balked, her arms crossing. Her eyes jumped in between his. “You…”

“I shouldn’t–”

“You have orders?” She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “You are–”

“I have no choice–fuck off–”

“You cannot tell me to fuck off, you just pulled me into this goddamned closet and you’re going to go back to your orders?” She saw his eyebrows raise at the Muggle swear, but his mouth remained shut. “You–” She felt a jolt in her stomach and whipped her wand in front of her. “Back away.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to–”

“What the hell are your orders, Malfoy?” she hissed. “To seclude me, isolate me away, and then murder me? Are you targeting each of the Mudbloods, one at a time?”

His face lost all its color. He jerked his head side to side. “No.”

“The one who’s been the biggest pain in your arse first? The one who you’ve hated the longest?”

“I don’t–”

“Back up.”

Malfoy shut his eyes and stepped backwards. They were grey when they met hers again, always grey, but worse now. Hermione inhaled.

“Again,” she ordered.

Malfoy rolled his eyes but did as she asked. He was back inside the closet now, and Hermione held his gaze for a long moment before she slammed the door shut with a wave of her wand and set a timed lock on the door. She exhaled and walked closer. This awful, awful war.

Who was giving Malfoy orders? An idiotic question, an obvious answer.

Merlin.

Whose orders did he want to disobey?

#dramione #dramione fic #dramione fanfic #dramione angst #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #hp #harry potter #hp fic #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #writing #arewelonely #gn mes amours

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mankaithings · 4 years

Text

Sakisaka Muku

Muku smiled the himself as he waited for the cashier to finish wrapping up the numerous shoujo manga he bought, his eyes following the lady on the counter’s who was now putting all of it in a paper bag

“Here you go.” She handed him the bag while Muku beamed and thanked her

He just came back from going home where he spent his birthday party with his other relatives, while some gave him gifts others opted for money to let him decide what he wanted to have instead

“I’ll carry it.” Juza’s voice cut from behind him

The lady at the cashier looked at Juza and back at Muku, a worried look on her face as Juza held out a hand for the bag, “Y-yes sir.” She stammered and gave it to Juza

“Thanks Ju-chan!” Muku gushed as the two of them left the store and towards the direction of Mankai

Until Juza’s phone vibrated

Taking it out, he saw the chaos in the Muku Birthday Squad Group Chat. Looking sideways at Muku who was humming beside him, Juza took a look at what was going on in the chat

“Juchan?” Muku’s voice cut through as Juza placed his phone back into his pocket, “Is everything okay?” Muku asked, worry lacing his words

“Do you want to go to the library?” He asked, completely lost on what to do. Muku likes reading right? Then he would take him to the library where there are many books that Muku could choose from

“Eh-but I thought we were going home?” Muku was confused at his cousin’s sudden change of mind

“I-I was wondering if you have any books for me…” Juza said the first thing on his mind. Did he like to read? He wouldn’t say he’s an avid reader because he only reads if it helps with his roles...other than that… He probably haven’t read anything else

“You want my recommendations?” Muku’s eyes were bright when he asked this, Juza couldn’t help but smile and ruffle his hair fondly

“Yeah, show me some books.”

Muku’s smile brightened upon hearing the statement, turning their backs they went on the other direction of the dorms and towards Veludo Library

Muku was gushing about his favorite romance books, some he got to read from school and others recommendation from Sakyo who was part of the Shoujo Manga Appreciation club. Albeit not really a manga, Muku appreciated every book Sakyo suggested

Upon reaching the library, Muku instantly went towards the romance section while Juza followed behind his cousin, scaring some elementary kid who ran towards his mother while doing so

“Here you go Juchan.” Muku handed him at least four books, “I based it from what I think you would like,” Muku scratched his chin and laughed nervously, “If you need anything more then talk to me.” He beamed once Juza nodded

Looking at the titles of the book, Juza noticed that it has different genres which did fit his tastes (Judging from the synopsis on the back)he didn’t even notice that they were straying away from the romance section. He smiled while carrying the books, sure he wasn’t much of a reader but it wouldn’t hurt to read at least once in a while

After checking out the books from the library the two walked out of the library while Muku gushed about the new volume of a manga, his cousin was troubled. Juza was still yet to receive his message which will allow them to go home. Gulping he looked around the area for any idea on where he should take Muku next

“...Do you want to get ice cream?” He blurted out upon seeing a nearby poster of an ice cream parlour that just opened

Muku followed Juza’s gaze towards the sign and felt his mouth water, he looked back at his cousin who was staring longingly at the ice cream on the sign,

“Okay, let’s go.” He agreed and once more they strayed away from the way back home and towards another shop

Upon entering the shop, Muku took note of the cute exterior of the shop. With the walls painted with pastel colors lined with a bunch of lace ornaments and the atmosphere welcoming. He wasn’t surprised to see children happily eating ice cream with their parents and couples sharing their own ice cream with their partners

“What do you want?” Muku heard Juza’s voice beside him, “...I’ll pay,” He mumbled and took out his wallet

“N-no you don’t need to!” Muku tried to stop his cousin but he just frowned

“It’s my birthday gift, I didn’t get you anythin’.” Muku noticed the guilty look on his cousin’s face upon admitting that he didn’t get his younger cousin anything but Muku didn’t really mind. He was already thankful that he got to spend his birthday with him

“...Just choose what you want.” He said upon reaching the counter. Muku nodded as he looked at the ice creams lined in front of him. There were hundreds of choices, ranging from the basic vanilla, strawberry and chocolate to Trail mix ice cream and, he wasn’t sure if he read correctly, curry flavored ice cream… Muku couldn’t help but wonder if Izumi was willing to taste the curry ice cream

“What’s yours?”

“I’ll have chocolate chips ice cream please.” Muku answered the lady on the counter

“...Mine’s strawberry, double scoop for both...please,” He mumbled the last part

“...Do you like it?” Juza asked his cousin as they sat on one of the benches in the park where they could see children laughing as they played in the playground

“Mhmm.” Muku smiled brightly, looking up at Juza who was beside him, “Thanks Juchan!” He said and continued to lick his ice cream

Juza smiled fondly and felt his phone vibrate causing him to take it out. He looked at Muku to see if Muku noticed it but Muku’s eyes were focused on the children in the park so he took out his phone and checked the messages

Putting it back on his pocket even before he could read the new message Banri sent, he turned his attention to his cousin who was now looking at a man playing catch with his dog

“We should head back.” Juza said to Muku

The two started to walk towards and Juza could feel his stomach churn from nervousness about their plan for the surprise birthday party. He just wanted his cousin to have a great day on his birthday and he hoped they would succeed with it

“We’re home!” Muku entered the house alongside Juza. After taking off their shoes the two walked towards the lounge where everybody was waiting

“Mukkun happy b-day!” Kazunari pulled Muku in a hug and pat his back

“Happy Birthday!” Taichi and Misumi greeted and popped two party poppers causing confetti to fall all around Muku. Juza looked behind and saw Sakyo, who was wearing a party hat just like everyone, scowling at the mess the two made

“Muku, happy birthday!” Izumi greeted brightly as she stood with the other adults

Muku’s eyes glimmered as he looked at the scene in front of him. It was just like what happened with the heroine's birthday in shoujo manga! Her friends and her partner would plan a surprise birthday for her and greet her enthusiastically and they would party for hours until everyone was tired

Muku’s eyes trailed from the colorful banner greeting him happy birthday with a drawing of him and the summer troupe all smiling widely towards the food that he was sure Omi cooked and towards the cake that seemed to have too much frosting

Walking towards it he noticed Tenma’s messy handwriting greeting him a happy birthday. Looking up he beamed at Tenma who avoided his eyes and focused them on the cake instead. Yuki had to nudge Tenma to look at Muku

“...Happy birthday Muku.” He muttered and beside him Yuki rolled his eyes

“The hack accidentally burnt the cake earlier.” Yuki said

“Eh you guys helped with making it?” Muku asked his fellow summer troupe members whose faces both turned pink

“Course we did.”

“We did.”

Muku chuckled as they answered in sync. He couldn’t help but feel his chest swell with happiness.

Turning to the whole company Muku smiled widely, “Thank you all very much!” He said sincerely as everyone’s mouth also twitched up upon seeing the adorable grin on Muku’s face

#act! addict! actors!#a3!#a3! actor training game #muku sakisaka #happy birthday muku

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atomic-taco-muffin · 3 years

Text

The Lost Princess Chapter 15

Warnings: fluff/angst

Rating: SFW

In the Small House, you and the others carried on with your conversation.

“So, you delivered that book? That navigation gummi’s installed and ready to go. You find another one, you bring it to me. I threw in a warp gummi for the heck of it. Now you can jump to worlds you’ve been to before. Well, better get back to my real job. What’s my real job? You’ll see. See me at the First District,” Cid said.

“I’ve been thinking about the bell in the Second District,” Aerith said.

“That one that rang a bit ago?” you asked.

“The one above the gizmo shop. There’s a legend about it, you know,” Yuffie said.

“But it’s all boarded up. Nobody can get in there,” Aerith said.

“Heck, go check it out. Ring it three times to see if anything happens,” Cid said. The four of you left and entered the Second District, battling Heartless on the way to the roof of the Gizmo Shop. The four of you took down the wooden boards of the bell tower and Sora rang the bell. The mural in the fountain in the square below changed and the empty fountain filled with flames. You rang the bell and the mural changed once more, the fire dissipating and the lights above the fountain blinked on. When the bell tolled the third time, the lights shut off and water spurted out of the fountain, the mural changing finally to butterflies surrounding a flower, which then revealed a large Keyhole. The four of you jumped down to the square and approached the fountain when the Guard Armor dropped from the sky. You and Sora began attacking the torso of the Heartless while Donald and Goofy went after its legs. It spun its arms wildly and with a few more hits, it crashed to the ground, motionless. The four of you paused, watching as the armor twitched. It reformed its body and fell forward, its arms digging into the ground. Its torso and legs flipped over, and the toes of its hammer- like feet curve inward, forming hands. Its helmet opened and its yellow eyes stared blankly at you four. It lunged forward and met the blade in Sora’s hands. The Opposite Armor continued to tackle you four, floating in midair. The Heartless soon split itself in half, the helmet and arms going after you, and the feet and torso found their targets in Donald and Goofy. Donald summoned a Thunder spell with your help, sending bolts of electricity into the armor. The helmet swirled around between the arms, almost taunting them, before its body reformed. It moved to tackle you four again, but mid-tackle, you striked, knocking its parts everywhere. Nearly defenseless, the four of you destroyed its appendages, leaving just the torso and helmet. It turned its torso sideways, staring at you four with its glowing eyes. A ball of energy shot out from inside it, and it targeted you and Sora, who dodged away. Another ball of energy shot out, and this time Sora was ready for it. He blocked with his Keyblade, sending the orb back to the Opposite Armor, which began to shake violently. The helmet fell inside its torso and a large glowing heart floated out into the sky, before the armor disappeared. You and Sora walked over to the shining Keyhole, and Sora locked it. The Keyhole shimmered and broke off, disintegrating into pieces, leaving only the butterfly mural and a gummi block. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy return to the First District and met Cid behind the Accessory Shop.

“Hey, now that was quick! Now you know. I’m in the gummi block business. Workin’ on your gummi ship sure was great. Come again and I’ll give you a big discount,” Cid said. You handed him the gummi block.

“Go ahead, take it. It’s a special giveaway,” he said. The four of you showed him the gummi block you found at the Keyhole.

“Hey, got another navigation gummi there, eh? I’ll bet you want it installed,” he said.

“Yeah, please,” you said.

“Hmm... Looks like this is another one of those blocks that come in sets. You gotta find the mate to this one.” He returned the gummi block to you four and the four of you entered the Accessory Shop, seeing a small boy on the floor near the counter. Jiminy Cricket jumped onto Sora’s shoulder (i always forget that he’s there).

“Well, well, as I live and breathe! If it isn’t Pinocchio!” he said. The cricket hopped down to the boy and you and Sora were surprised to see that he was entirely made of wood.

“Oh. Hi, Jiminy,” Pinocchio said as he looked up.

“What in the world are you doing down here?” Jiminy asked.

“Um... Playing hide-and-seek.”Jiminy started pacing around.

“I just don’t believe it. And here I was, up all night, just worried sick about you. Why of all the—” he looked up at Pinocchio, shocked.

“Pinocchio!” he said. Pinocchio stared at his nose, which had magically grown longer.

“Pinocchio! Are you telling me the truth?” he said, sternly.

“Yes!” Pinocchio said.

“Then tell me, what is this?” he asked as he pointed to an item on the floor beside them.

“It was a present,” Pinocchio said.

“No fibbing, now! You know you’re not supposed to tell lies. A lie only grows and grows, ‘til you get caught! Plain as the nose on your face!”

“But if you want something, why wait? Why not just take it?”

“Oh, my! Who told you that? You need some advice from your conscience!”

“That’s right! You’re my conscience, Jiminy! I’ll never tell lies as long as you’re around.” Magic surrounded Pinocchio’s nose and it shrunk to its normal size.

“You need to be good so you can become a real boy. You promised Geppetto you would be, right?” Jiminy said.

“Oh! Do you know where Father is?”

“He’s not with you?”

“Jiminy, let’s go find Father!”

“Now, hold on! There are all sorts of dangers and temptations out there! I’ll go find Geppetto, so you just wait here. These fellows here will be helping me.”

“We will?” You and Sora asked. Pinocchio stood up.

“Well, shall we go?” Jiminy asked.

“You could’ve asked us first...” Sora said. The four of you left Traverse Town and traveled to Olympus Coliseum, where you all competed in the Phil Cup. After making your way up the tournament, you spoke to Phil and Hercules.

“I never thought you’d do it. Not bad,” Phil said.

“Phil, you’re just as stubborn as ever. Don’t pretend you’re not happy for them!” Hercules said.

“Ahem! Now, kid, you’ve still got a long way to go. The next round’s startin’ soon. Next time it’ll be the real thing.” The four of you left for the world of Agrabah, where a tall, thin man in robes walked through the streets with Maleficent.

“And the Keyhole?” she asked.

“The Heartless are searching for it now. I’m certain we’ll find it soon enough. So that just leaves...” the man said. Overhead, a brightly-colored parrot squawked through the air loudly before circling down to land on the man’s pointed shoulders.

“Jafar! I’ve looked everywhere for Jasmine. She’s disappeared like magic!” he said.

“The girl is more trouble than she’s worth,” Jafar said.

“You said you had things under control,” Maleficent said.

“Agrabah is full of holes for rats to hide in. But why worry about Princess Jasmine? With her or without her, surely this world will be ours when we find the Keyhole.”

“We need all seven princesses of heart to open the final door. Any fewer is useless. And let’s not forget that a spirit has risen. We need that girl’s powers to make the plan complete.”

“Well, if the princess is that important, we’ll find her. Along with that spirit.” Bandit Heartless appeared behind him, brandishing swords.

“Find Jasmine and the spirit and bring them to me at once,” Jafar said. The Heartless followed Iago through the streets.

“Don’t steep yourself in darkness too long. The Heartless consume the careless,” Maleficent said. Jafar laughed proudly.

“Your concern is touching, but hardly necessary,” he said. Behind Maleficent in a watermelon stand, a worried young woman overheard their conversation. She was no commoner, as her jewelry and her clothes are obviously expensive. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy arrived in the Plaza to find Heartless roaming the streets of Agrabah. The four of you took out the Heartless as you made your way into an Alley. Sora gasped, when he saw someone staring at them from behind a pile of crates.

“Who’s there? Hello?” she asked. The girl came out of hiding and spoke to you four.

“I’m Jasmine. My father is the sultan of Agrabah,” she said.

“Uh... So that makes you a princess,” Goofy said.

“But he has been deposed by Jafar, who now controls the city.”

“Jafar?” you asked.

“You haven’t heard of him? He’s the royal vizier. He’s gained evil powers and seized Agrabah. He’s desperately looking for something— something he calls the “Keyhole” and a spirit. Jafar caught me trying to escape, but he helped me.”

“Who helped you?” Sora asked.

“We were hiding nearby, but he left a while ago to take care of something... Oh, I hope Aladdin’s all right.”

“Aladdin? Where might I find this street rat?” The five of you looked toward the voice and saw Jafar on a high ledge.

“Jasmine, allow me to find you more suitable company, my dear princess. Same with you, pretty spirit These little rats won’t do, you see,” he said.

“Jasmine, (Y/N), run!” Sora said. You took Jasmine’s hand the two of you ran into the city and the three revealed their weapons.

“Ah, the boy who holds the key,” Jafar said. Jafar summoned Heartless, who dropped down and attacked them as Jafar escaped. They defeated the Heartless and walked through Main Street, finding an entrance to a loft. Inside the loft, they found an ornate rug trying to pull itself out from under a chest of drawers. They moved it off of the rug, who stood in front of them on two tassels and bowed in gratitude, before magically flying out the open hole in the wall.

“The carpet flew off toward the desert. Let’s follow it, Sora!” Donald said. They made their way to the vast desert, sand and sky as far as the eye can see. The magic carpet flew towards them and landed. It motioned for them to come along, and they rode it to a sandpit, where a young man and his pet monkey were trapped in the sand. A horde of Heartless appeared and they were forced to fight them before reaching the young man. More Heartless surrounded them.

“Gawrsh, not again!” Goofy said. The man managed to get himself free, pulling out a rather old and dirty oil lamp.

“Genie, get rid of these guys!” Aladdin said. He rubbed the lamp and held it into the air. Magic sparks appeared from the lamp followed by blue smoke, and a large genie erupted from it with a yell.

“Wish Number One, coming right up!” The Genie said. He snapped his fingers and the Heartless vanished around them. Later, they stood in the desert as the magic carpet flew overhead.

“I see...Thanks Sora!” Aladdin said.

“Aladdin, what’re you doing out here?” Sora asked.

“Same old stuff. Hunting legendary treasure. Just paid a visit to the Cave of Wonders.” The carpet landed next to him.

“I found that magic carpet, and this lamp,” Aladdin said as he held up the magic lamp.

“Legend has it that whoever holds the lamp can summon the—”

“Please, kid, leave the intros to a professional. The one and only GENIE OF THE LAMP!” The Genie interrupted as he rubbed the lamp

“Rub-a-dub-dub the lamp and have your dearest wishes granted.” He bowed and flew over to Aladdin.

“Today’s winner is...Aladdin! Congratulations!” he said. Genie made confetti rain down on him and shook his hand.

“Any wish?” Donald asked.

“Patience, my fine feathered friend,” The Genie said. He split into three genies, each holding up three fingers.

“Any three wishes ! A one wish,” he said as he made one figure disappear.

“A two wish.” Another figure disappeared.

“A three wish. Then I make like a banana and split!” The third figure disappeared.

“Our lucky winner made his first wish—” He reappeared next to Sora.

“And let me tell you, what a doozy that wish was—” He split into two back-to-back genies.

“So he has two left,” he echoed. He popped out and zoomed back in, turning his smoky tail into a microphone.

“So, master, what’ll you have for Wish Number Two?” he asked. He spun and dropped a spotlight on Aladdin, who put a hand on his chin.

“Hmm, how about making me a fabulously wealthy prince?” he asked.

“Oooh! Money! Royalty! Fame!” The Genie said as he pinched the air and bowed.

“Okay, you asked for it! A hundred servants and a hundred camels loaded with gold!” he said. He started dialing on an imaginary phone, holding his hand up to his ear.

“Just say the word and I’ll deliver it in 30 minutes or less, or your meal’s free,” he said. He flew over to Aladdin, putting an arm around his shoulder.

“Hey, I’ll even throw in a cappuccino!” he said.

“No, thanks!” Aladdin chuckled.

“Okay.”

“I think I’ll put that on hold until we reach Agrabah.”

“Uh, why a prince?” Goofy asked.

“You see, there’s this girl in Agrabah named Jasmine. But she’s a princess, and I’m... Aww, she could never fall for a guy like me,” Aladdin said. He looked toward the sand.

“Oh. Princess?” Donald asked.

“Jasmine?” Goofy asked.

“Oh, that’s right! She’s in trouble, Aladdin! And so is (Y/N)!” Sora said.

“Who’s (Y/N)?” Aladdin asked.

“She’s my best friend.”

“What? Well, c’mon, let’s get going!” They boarded the magic carpet, and started flying back to Agrabah. Genie flew alongside them.

“Ah, fresh air! The great outdoors!” he said.

“I guess you don’t get out much, huh?” Sora asked.

“Comes with the job. Phenomenal cosmic powers. Itty-bitty living space. It’s always three wishes, then back to my portable prison. I’m lucky to see the light of day every century or two...”

“Say, Genie, what if I use my last wish to free you from the lamp? What do you think?” Aladdin asked.

“You’d do that?” The Genie asked smiling.

“Genie, it’s a promise. After we help Jasmine and (Y/N).” They flew to the city and entered Aladdin’s House.

“So, Jafar is after Jasmine, (Y/N), and this “Keyhole.” Why does he want (Y/N)?” Aladdin said.

“(Y/N) has the power of a spirit but I don’t know why Jafar wants her,” Sora said.

“Keyhole and a spirit, eh? I could swear I’ve heard about those somewhere before...” Genie said.

“Really? Where?” Donald asked.

“Now, where was it? It’s only been 200 years...”

“Well, anyway, we’ve got to stop Jafar before it’s too late,” Sora said. They entered the Palace Gates by way of a high ledge and saw Jafar standing at the gates with Princess Jasmine and you. They jumped down to your level, alerting the vizier to their presence.

“Setting your sights a little high, aren’t you boy? Back to your hole, street rat. I will not allow you to trouble the princess any more,” Jafar said.

“Sora!” you yelled.

“(Y/N!” Sora yelled back.

“Jasmine!” Aladdin shouted.

“I’m so sorry, Aladdin,” Jasmine said.

“Me too, Sora,” you said. Jafar held out an arm to block you and Jasmine, while Aladdin pulled out the lamp behind his back.

“Genie, help Jasmine and (Y/N), please!” Aladdin said as he rubbed the lamp. Jafar turned and his eyes grew wide, seeing Genie carrying you and Jasmine.

“One wish left! You’re making this really easy, you know,” Genie said cheerfully.

“So sorry, boy. I’m afraid your second wish has been denied,” Jafar smirked. Iago flew over to Jafar with the lamp. Aladdin looked at his hand, seeing it empty, and knocked the cap off his head in shock. Iago gave Jafar the lamp.

“I’m sorry, Al,” Genie said. He disappeared and you and Jasmine fell through the air with a scream, landing in a clay pot which suddenly grew legs.

“And now, I bid you all farewell. Attack!” Jafar said. He disappeared as two pots exploded behind them, revealing the front and back of a Heartless. Sora attacked the front head, and its antennae lit up with a burst of electricity. It swung them around wildly, striking Sora in the face. He reeled back as Aladdin searched around for you and Jasmine, who were desperately calling out for help among the clay pots. Several of the numerous pots had grown legs and were walking around the area toward the large Heartless. Sora watched as the Pot Spiders joined with the head and tail, becoming a Pot Centipede, which began to walk toward the desert, gathering more Pot Spiders and growing bigger. You and Jasmine’s cries became fainter and they ran after the Pot Centipede, searching for you and the princess within its body. As it raced away from them, its tail bursted with darkness.

“Courage!” Sora said. He held a hand to his heart, summoning with all his might. He gathered energy on the end of his Keyblade and thrusted it into the air, magic swirling around him. Up from the ground came a large figure with glowing eyes. It stepped forward and its golden fur and large mane came into view. The lion gave off a mighty roar, which filled the air. Simba jumped toward the Pot Centipede and bellowed, sending various Pot Spiders shattering. When two pots were left, the Centipede gathered it up and started to run faster. Aladdin raced after it and with Sora’s help, the Pot Centipede was defeated. Aladdin ran at it, but it disappeared, leaving nothing.

“Jasmine!” Aladdin said.

“(Y/N)!” Sora said. They heard an evil laugh emanating from the desert.

“To the desert! Come on, let’s move!” Aladdin said. They took the Magic Carpet to the Desert. Suddenly, something burst out of the sand, spinning violently toward them. It landed two giant feet on the ground, clawing at carpet, who dodged frantically as Sora gritted his teeth. The four of them toppled out of the carpet as Kurt Zisa turned its six-armed body in their direction, summoning two orbs of energy in its hands. The orb canceled their magic summoning abilities and Sora moved in to attack its feet. As it walked closer to them, the mechanical crunch echoing through the desert, it stared at them with its snake-like head. Two of its other arms held long curved scythes, which was spinning wildly, slicing at them. Sora and Aladdin eliminated the magic-cancelling orbs and Donald sended a Thunder spell, sending it falling to the ground. It’s head reared up out of its body on a long elastic neck, attempting to bite them, before it jumped back up, summoning large dust devils, tossing sand everywhere. Goofy charged it with his shield, but missed as it spun through the air toward Sora. Donald healed him (that’s a first) as it sended fireballs toward them. With several more critical strikes, Kurt Zisa stumbled forward. They ran away from it as its arms crashed down in the sand around them. Aladdin summoned the Magic Carpet and it swooped down to grab them as the Heartless fell over completely. A large glowing heart rose up into the sky as they flew away towards the end of the desert, watching as the Heartless vanished in the distance. They reached the sandpit where they found Aladdin earlier and dismounted from the carpet. They stepped forward and the sand in front of them lurched upward. The ground quaked as an enormous tiger head heaved out of the sand. Its mouth opened, heat and flame emanating from its depths, and its eyes glowed. An evil glow, one of dark purpose. They approached its mouth before it reeled upward, blasting them with a hot torrent of sand. Heartless appeared and they realized the tiger head was under their control. Sora began thrashing at the Heartless before a beam of energy striked Aladdin in the back, knocking him over. Donald healed him and Sora saw that the beams were coming from its eyes. After he destroyed a few Heartless, the tiger head buried its mouth in the sand, and Sora jumped onto its nose, because it released a spray of sand from its mouth. Sora attacked its eyes before a Bandit Heartless flipped onto the top of the tiger, almost knocking Sora off. Goofy climbed up the side of the tiger head and shield Sora from more flying Heartless. Sora continued striking the eyes until the power of darkness was driven from the Cave of Wonders. Once everything settled down, they entered the cave. Fighting Heartless through the labyrinthine halls of the Cave of Wonders, they dropped down to a watery level and Sora destroyed a pillar with a Fire spell. Meanwhile, in the Lamp Chamber, Jafar stood next to an enslaved Genie as you and Jasmine laid unconscious on the stone floor. Jafar tapped his snake staff on the ground and held up the magic lamp.

“My first wish, Genie! Show me the Keyhole!” Jafar said. Genie looked over, despondently, and snapped his fingers. The rock wall bursted open, revealing pillars and a Keyhole beyond. Jafar cackled evilly. Sora, Donald, Goofy, and Aladdin made their way past the Treasure Room and into the Lamp Chamber, where they found Jafar speaking with Maleficent.

“That boy again?” she asked.

“He’s more persistent than I expected. Why not explain the situation to that boy Riku? Doing so may actually prove useful to our--” Jafar said. He was distracted by footsteps, and turned to see Sora and company arrive.

“Wait a second. Are you Maleficent?” Sora asked. The witch vanished without a word.

“Jafar, let Jasmine go!” Aladdin said.

“Not a chance,” Jafar said. You and Jasmine laid at his feet in front of the Keyhole. Sora noticed that you had an faint energy radiating off of you.

“You see, she’s a princess—one of seven who somehow hold the key. And she is a spirit. The very last of her kind who can control time if she wanted to. Both of the them hold the power to opening the door,” Jafar said.

“Open...” Donald said.

“...the door?” Goofy asked.

“But you fools won’t live to see what lies beyond it. Genie! My second wish. Crush them!” Jafar said. Aladdin gasped as Genie hung in the air.

“Genie, no!” Aladdin said.

“Sorry, Al. The one with the lamp calls the shots. I don’t have a choice,” Genie said. Jafar lifted his snake staff into the air, and its eyes glowed, creating a magic barrier around the room, blocking the exit and the Keyhole. Jafar began chanting a spell and he sent a beam of heat from his staff at them. Aladdin ran forward and attacked Jafar, who teleported to a platform on the other edge of the room as Genie floated toward them.

“I’m really sorry about this. Run!” Genie said. He swiped at them, but they dodged his attacks and followed Jafar. Sora caught up and began thrashing with his Keyblade, causing Genie to cheer. Jafar chanted another spell, causing a giant hailstorm in the center of the room, trapping Donald and Goofy. Aladdin struck from behind while Jafar was distracted and the vizier pulsed with energy. Lightning crackled around him and he screamed. Sora and Aladdin ran over to you and Jasmine, but before they could reach you two, Jafar got an idea.

“Genie!” he said. They turned to see Jafar floating in the center of the room, holding up the magic lamp.

“My final wish! I want you to make me and all-powerful genie!” Jafar said. Genie covered his eyes and looked away, pointing his finger at Jafar and releasing as small amount of wish energy as possible. It struck Jafar, who began to glow and the floor crumbled beneath him, revealing a large pool of lava surrounding stone platforms. Jafar descended towards the pool and they stared down into the frightening, gaping maw. They jumped down into the cavern, searching around for Jafar, when suddenly he burst out of the lava with a great laugh. He gazed down at them evilly in his red genie form, brimming with power and malice. Iago flew by them, holding a coal black lamp.

“The lamp! Get Jafar’s lamp!” Aladdin said.

“Iago! Keep the lamp away from them!” Jafar said.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you!” Iago said. Jafar began throwing molten rocks at them as they went after Iago.

“Nag, nag! It’s all he ever does!” Iago said. The air was dense with heat, making it hard to breathe. They cornered Iago on a faraway platform as Jafar rose up to meet them. Sora sent a Blizzara spell at him, bu he shrugged it off.

“Ugh! Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Iago said. After attacking Iago for a while, the bird finally landed.

“Water! Water!” Iago said. He took back the lamp and continued flying around with it. The platforms rose higher, allowing them to knock the lamp away from the bird. It dropped to the ground and Sora grabbed it.

“Okay, Jafar! Back to your lamp!” he said. He held it up and Jafar screamed as magic whipped around him, pulling him into the magic lamp. You and Jasmine watched slowly from above, before hearing footsteps behind you two. The two of you turned around slowly and was taken. The magic carpet brought Sora, Donald, Goofy, and Aladdin back to the keyhole, but you and Jasmine were nowhere to be found.

“Jasmine? Jasmine!” Aladdin said

“(Y/N)!” Sora said. The Keyhole glowed in the presence of the Keyblade and a curtain of gold sparkles covered it with a loud locking sound. The cave began to rumble and Goofy covered his head with his shield.

“Jasmine!” Aladdin said. They pulled Aladdin onto the magic carpet and it sped them out of the Cave of Wonders. They flew back to Aladdin’s house.

“So, Jasmine and (Y/N) are no longer in Agrabah. Sora, let’s go find them. I know how much (Y/N) means to you,” Aladdin said.

“Sorry. I can’t take you with me,” Sora said sadly.

“Wh-Why not?” Aladdin asked as he sat down.

“I sure wish we could...” Goofy said.

“But we can’t. If we take him to another world, we would be...” Donald said.

“Muh... Mudd—”

“Meddling!”

“Aladdin, we’ll find Jasmine. I promise,” Sora said.

“Uh, earth to Al. Hello? You still have one wish left. Look, just say the word. Ask me to find Jasmine for you,” Genie said as he patted Aladdin’s back.

“I...I wish...” Aladdin said. Genie rolled up his imaginary sleeves.

“For your freedom, Genie,” Aladdin said.

“Al!” Genie said surprised. Magic swirled around Genie, who’s smoky tail split into two legs, and the golden cuffs on his wrists disappeared.

“A deal’s a deal, Genie. Now you can go anywhere you want. You’re your own master. But if you can, it’d be great if you could go along with them and help Sora find Jasmine and (Y/N),” Aladdin said. Genie turned away, crossing his arms.

“Sorry, Al. I’m done taking orders from others. But... A favor, now that’s entirely different,” he said. He looked back at him, smiling brightly.

“I guess I could give that a try,” he said. He leaped over, putting a hand on Aladdin’s shoulder.

“After all, we’re pals, right, Al?” he asked.

“Genie...” Aladdin said.

“Just leave it to me!” Genie said, smiling. Aladdin runs a hand through his hair and chuckles.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N). I’m coming,” Sora said.

To be continued...

#kingdom hearts #kingdomhearts #kingdom hearts imagine #kingdom hearts x reader #kingdom+hearts+x+reader #kingdom+hearts+imagines #kingdomhearts x reader #kingdomhearts imagines #kingdomhearts+x+reader #kingdomhearts+imagines

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granddaughterogg · 5 years

Text

Less than whole - War x reader part 2

In which we have some failed communication, some top-notch passive-aggressiveness and Scantily Clad Strife! Part 1 can be found here.

„War. I can’t breathe!..”

His eyes flashed wide. The ironclad hold supporting you suddenly lost its power. You yelped - and wrapped both legs around his waist in order not to slide off this mountain of a man.

That discomposed War even further. His thick silver eyebrows furrowed while he seized you again, this time by your thighs – this time carefully – and put your slightly startled ass on the kitchen table.

„Forgive me”, he breathed, leaning in, his voice low and delectably rough from all the kissing. It made your insides backflip. But then again, he did just almost jellify them. „I got carried away. Are you all right?”

You giggled breathlessly.

It was hard not to melt when asked like this, not under the tender scrutiny of his gaze. War had eyes like two bluish LED lamps. Still somehow managed to convey emotion through them.

„I’m fine”, you reassured him, looking up into this picture of worry. „Really. You just kinda...squished the air outta me for a while there.”

War’s lips pursed. „I am sorry.”

„Don’t mention it, Big Guy.” You absentmindedly rubbed your (still aching) sides. They probably wore a print of ten enormous fingers. This is gonna leave some bruises, especially from his iron hand.

Your head darted up. He was still leaning over you, blush slowly seeping away from his face, that silver hair in glorious disarray. One strand flew across his scrunched forehead and fell over the wide, straight, unhappy line that was his mouth. Right now War looked like a pouty child, stifling the urge to cry.

His hands - those instruments of delight, the bringers of carnage – pressed into the table on both of your sides.

„I wish I wasn’t like that”, he said softly. „I wish I didn’t hurt you all the time.”

„Hey, as I said, not really a problem!” You chirped. „Besides, there’s not much we can do about it. I mean, you’re a big, strong Nephilim with a badass metal arm. And I’m just...me!”

War stiffened.

„Strong”, he said, his voice hollow. „That was all I used to care about. And this arm, too…”

You watched him slowly flex the fingers of the enormous gauntlet as if he’d seen it for the first time. Pointy metal scraped on wood.

You never asked what magic bounds it to the owner’s will. It was an instrument of bloodbath, that’s for sure. Designed to maim and crush and kill, not to give affection in any form.

But all the same - it was his prosthetics. A crutch he needed to move seamlessly through the world. You’d never ask the man you loved to take it off just for your comfort.

War’s stare met yours. He looked so distraught.

„I leave marks on your flesh, don’t I.”

You managed a weak smile. As far as you were concerned, black-and-blue spots on your skin came with the territory.

„Yeah. They remind me of you when you’re away.”

War inhaled with a hiss and dug his hands into the wood of the table. It crunched dangerously.

It was hot, having him overarch you like this, block the light with those linebacker shoulders. Oozing with warmth, with this robust scent which made you think wanton thoughts and with worry.

It hurt to see him worried.

„Darling.” You grabbed him by the neck, stretching your whole upper body upwards, hauled his face down to yours and kissed him. Hard.

War’s silver eyelashes fluttered in surprise; they were so long, you could feel them brushing up and down your cheeks. And then he let go and opened to you, soft and wet and ardent. Even though there was no embrace this time. His palms stayed down as if glued to the table.

„Ahem. Guys.”

The Red Rider let go before you did. One moment your tongues were entwined and War’s tantalizing smell filled you up to your very hair roots, as you slid your hips closer to the table’s edge in an honest notion of grinding on that dick. The next – it was all over, as your giant jerked back and the sun from the kitchen window poured on you mockingly. It wasn’t the only thing that was mocking.

„Strife.” War’s cheeks were flushed with red again, his voice low and guttural. Such a growl would scare the shit out of any living creature - aside from a few exceptions.

His cheeky brother was one of them.

„Guys. Guys”, he said with a smile as obnoxious as it was wide. „I love you both, you know that. But the thing is... you’re in the way.”

You panted and snorted, flipping your dishevelled hair in a failed attempt to regain some dignity.

„Between you and fucking what?”

„The fridge, dahling.” The spiky-haired one posed himself flamboyantly in the doorway; one hip cocked to the right, arm behind the head jutted in opposite direction, his long spine curved sideways as if he was a character in JoJo. As conflicted as you were about this dumbass' attitude, you had to admire his flexibility.

And his height. Even when wearing only boxers, some old wifebeater, which read ELMO on the front and no shoes - he still remained the tallest.

„How long have you been standing there?” you spat.

„Long enough.” Another megawatt grin.

War emitted a low, threatening sound of a remarkably beastly disposition.

„Hey, don’t come at me, brother.” Strife raised one hand protectively. „I’ve been wrestling with my thoughts here, ya know? Wondering whether it’s decent to break such a lovely scene, and then you two started arguing or something and it was all the more awkward, but then I really, really need to get that milk.”

You taxed the sharpshooter with a keen gaze. Unkempt hair. Deep shadows under his golden eyes. A pinched look which the uneven snarky grin didn’t quite hide. A general air of dishevelment.

What time was it, again? Ah, yes. Saturday morning. The day of the Reckoning.

„Hangover is a harsh mistress, eh?” You flung the fridge door open and grabbed the milk.

„Work hard, party hard. That’s my motto.” He stepped inside, took it from you, uncorked the plastic jug, threw his head back and drank like a man who’d just traversed Sahara.

It took a while. You remained silent. War, who has crossed his arms - was dead silent, too. Strife slurped and gurgled.

After a minute or two of this, you started to wonder about the crazy-ass direction which your life has taken. You shared a common roof with four Nephilim, out of which two were your lovers, one was a good friend, and another one was...well, Strife.

To the best of his Strife-ability.

„Can’t you just take it and beat it?” you asked wearily. Whatever magic has weaved between you and War, it was as good as gone anyway.

„No need. I’ll go.” The Big Guy sighed, pushed himself away from the table and trodded past his boxer-clad brother, who courteously stepped aside.

„War?...” Your voice might’ve trembled. Just a little.

„I’ll be upstairs. I need a bath.”

And like that, he was gone.

Well, not exactly. You and the pointy-haired one stood there in silence for quite some time, listening to the thud of War’s heavy footsteps.

You waited until they trailed off, snapped your head at Strife and spit out:

„There is a word for what you’ve just done to your brother. And that word is...”

„Cockblocking, I know”, he cut you off leisurely while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. „ Humans are so crafty. So skilled with your words.”

You inhaled sharply.

„We’re also skilled in the art of kicking someone in the shin, so don’t be surprised when it happens.”

„Oi”, Strife bent down and now his gleaming, taunting stare was definitely too close to your face. You felt as if attached to an electric current.

„Don’t go taking the strain in your relationships out on me”, he said. „That’s so not cute.”

„Ugh! One day I’m gonna kill you.”

He straightened back to his impressive length and flashed you a lovable smirk.

„I’d love to see you try.”

„I mean it! I’ll find some way to make you miserable.”

Strife was already on his way out, gracefully placing the emptied milk bottle on the kitchen counter. „Anytime, princess.” He strutted out, giving his boxer-clad ass more wiggle that seemed necessary. You couldn’t unglue your eyes from it.

„But seriously. Lookin’ forward to it.”

To be Continued. If you like my work, please don’t hesitate to reblog it! That’s the only way for me to get seen on tumblr, you know.

#darksiders #darksiders war #darksiders strife #darksiders domestic fluff #darksiders war x reader #darksiders strife/reader #fluff and angst #mostly domestic fluff through #strife is being a child #but we love him anyway #writing about the nephilim #polyamory as background setting #but it's there

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iximaz · 5 years

Text

Blood-Forged ch2

Summary: Din takes his young charge to a new planet with a new plan to hide. It quickly goes sideways after he meets another Mandalorian who has never seen her own kind.

Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Baby Yoda, enby!fem!OC

Pairings: Slow burn Din Djarin/OC because it turns out I’m a thirsty hoe

Warnings: Eh, right now it’s just in light PG-13 territory. Mentions of family death, some blood/violence/bodily harm. Will probably end up becoming smut later.

Word Count: 1466 (indefinite chapter count coming)

Part 1 Part 2 (you’re here!) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

They made it back to the ship and Din led Aysa up the ramp; he waited, arms crossed, until the door was closed before he spoke. “Call me Din,” he said.

Aysa pulled her helmet off, blowing her bangs out of her face. “That determined to not let anyone else know, huh?”

Din nodded. Seeing her with her helmet off left his skin crawling uncomfortably, but he shoved it to the back of his mind.

“I’m not calling you Mandalorian out there,” Aysa said, setting her helmet on a nearby crate and folding her arms to mimic his posture. “Not unless you want to do the same. I’m just as much Mandalorian as you are.”

Din just turned and headed to the cramped medbay, where he rummaged in one of the cabinets for his container of bacta swabs. Aysa trailed in after him, and he set the container on the narrow counter for her to help herself.

“You said you take merc jobs here?” Din asked, and Aysa nodded as she peeled the wrapping off.

“Was just checking the payment details for my last run,” she said, and dabbed gingerly at her scabby lip. The tear slowly began to close up into a faint white scar. “It’s not a ton of money, but it keeps me pretty comfortable.”

“Would it be enough to pay for repairs?” Din asked.

Aysa glanced around the battered old junker of a ship and made a face. “Maybe a few jobs would be enough,” she finally said. “Is it urgent?”

Din hesitated, then shook his head. “Was hoping to lay low here for a bit,” he said.

Aysa’s eyebrows went up. “Well—if you need somewhere to stay—I could offer you, uh—“ Her face scrunched up for a moment as she tried to remember the word. ”Morut. Haven?”

Great. That put him in a bit of a bind—it was the Way to extend refuge to fellow Manda, and it would be incredibly rude of him to refuse. But the child was not one of them, and he doubted her invitation would be extended. Besides, the fewer people who knew about him, the better.

A soft cooing from the door caused Aysa to spin around, drawing her blaster and aiming it at the source. Din lunged to put himself between the child and the weapon, but Aysa was already lowering it when she got a good look at her target.

“Is that a baby?” she demanded.

The kid peered around Din’s leg briefly before hiding behind him again, hands curling in the fabric of his flightsuit.

“I’ve been looking after him,” Din grudgingly admitted, and was surprised when Aysa’s expression softened.

“Is he your Foundling?” she asked.

The question caught Din off-guard and it took him a minute to find the words. “No,” he finally said. “Like I said: I’ve been looking after him.”

Aysa crouched down so she was closer to the baby’s eye level. “Hey, little one,” she said. “Din’s been taking good care of you, I’ll bet.”

Din bristled internally. “I have,” he said shortly, and Aysa glanced up at him.

“I meant it,” she said.

“…I know,” Din lied. He was unfortunately used to people giving him crap for not doing a better job with the kid. Personally, he thought they should try looking after a toddler with both the entire Bounty Hunter’s Guild and the remnants of the Empire breathing down their necks the whole time. See how well they did then.

The kid peered around his leg again and tentatively extended a finger towards Aysa. She smiled and held her own finger out until their hands touched. She had an odd look on her face, and she glanced up at Din. “You feel that?” she asked.

Din looked down at her. “What?”

“The kid, it’s like…. I dunno,” Aysa said. She kept staring into the deep, dark eyes, like pools of onyx. She felt lost in them, drawn in by some unseen power. “Like I can sort of feel he’s there.”

“You are touching him,” Din pointed out, and Aysa wrenched her gaze away.

“Does he have a name?”

Din hesitated.

“…How long have you had him?”

Din briefly closed his eyes. “A few months.”

“You’ve had him for a few months and you haven’t given him a name?”

Din half-lifted his hands in agitation. “I’ve been calling him a Womp-Rat, it’s worked fine for now.”

Aysa groaned. “Well, if you aren’t going to give him a name—“

“I will,” Din insisted. “At some point.”

“Well, I can’t just call him ‘Womp-Rat’,” Aysa said. “Baby?”

“Call him Baby if you want, I don’t care.” Din picked Baby up and carried him back to the bunk. “You were supposed to have a nap,” he scolded.

Baby reached out for his face, claws scraping lightly against the visor as he cooed.

Din sighed and set him down. “Stay,” he repeated.

Aysa leaned against the doorframe of the medbay, watching with a neutral expression carefully fixed on her face. Maybe Din was onto something about the helmet rule. “He might not be your Foundling, but you’re definitely his dad,” she said.

“We have the same ears,” Din said dryly.

“And hair, I’ll bet,” Aysa said. She glanced at Baby. “You wanted to lay low because of him?”

Din nodded.

“Alright.” Aysa let out a low breath. “I can point you towards some jobs,” she finally said. “There’s too many for me to claim them all, you shouldn’t have any trouble finding work. My apartment’s not too far from here—we could put Baby in a crate, hide him under a blanket, get him there easily enough.”

Din stifled a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Great, glad that’s settled,” Aysa said. “I think you owe me some information now.”

Din’s stomach turned over, not just at the memory but at the knowledge of what he’d have to break to her. “Yes.”

“About the Mandalorians.”

Din turned and climbed up the ladder into the cockpit; Aysa followed, ignoring the way her armor pinched uncomfortably. She was used to it by now.

Din was already sitting in the pilot’s seat when she came up, and he gestured at the seat in the corner. She sat, watching him nervously.

“It was called the Purge,” Din said. He turned back to the galaxy map, calling up a hologram of Mandalore—now a desolate, smoking wasteland. “It didn’t happen overnight, but Mandalore was driven almost to extinction. The tribe that took me in was one of the first to go into hiding. How long ago was your clan killed?”

“Sixteen, almost seventeen years ago,” Aysa said. “I was four.”

That made her a little over a decade younger than him, then. He nodded, head bowed in sympathy. “Yours was one of the last to be wiped out,” he said. “My tribe thought we were the only ones left. There’s about thirty of us now, but our numbers keep growing with Foundlings as the years pass.”

Aysa looked like she wanted to ask something; Din could guess what.

He killed the hologram so they wouldn’t have to look at it. “You want to join?”

And at this, she hesitated. “It would mean adopting your Way,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“I think so, yes,” Din said, almost apologetically.

Aysa slumped back in her seat. “I couldn’t do that,” she said. “I… I know I don’t have much of a history with my culture, but it is mine. A-and if I’m the only one who’s left, I gotta preserve what I can, don’t I?”

Din nodded. “I understand,” he said, and he did. It was hard, impossibly so, to give up your sense of self for the sake of fitting in. His thoughts wandered to Omera and he wondered briefly how her village was faring.

“Would I still be allowed to… meet them, maybe?” Aysa asked hopefully, and Din could have kicked himself.

“Of course,” he said. “They would be pleased to know others survived.”

Aysa beamed and threw her arms around his neck before he could react; he startled and pushed her off him and she backed away, apologizing profusely.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, I just—it’s like—I’m sorry, I’m just, you know?” she said, wringing her hands.

Half-amused by her enthusiasm, half-nettled at having his personal space invaded, he nodded. “I know,” he said. “It’s good to not be alone.”

“When can I meet them?” Aysa asked, her eyes shining.

Din gnawed on his lip. When he finally spoke, he sounded rather sheepish. “That’s just the thing,” he said. “I don’t know where they are.”

Aysa’s face fell briefly before determination took its place. “Well then,” she said. “Guess that means we’ll just have to go find them.”

#mandalorian #the mandalorian #fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #dyn jarren #OC #baby yoda #star wars #din djarin

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sauveteen · 6 years

Note

75 from the kiss list?? Thx love

75: Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing

Shawn’s generally the kind of person who’d rather sit and wait his turn than disturb others, especially you, and distract them from whatever the hell it is that they're doing. (Even if it's an intense game of solitaire. Shawn knows better than to interrupt you mid solitaire, and fine, maybe you're the luckiest girl in the entire world to have ended up with someone as thoughtful, because not everyone respects solitaire. You're not sure if you do, and you're the one playing it, so. Yeah. He's a babe.) Needless to say, then, that it surprises you immensely when he struts in front of you, hands on his hips, and sticks his bottom lip out in feigned hurt when you're in the middle of an intense game of FIFA. (It seems like you're always mid something. Mostly his legs, of course, but sometimes other things too.)

Your instant reaction is to whine, because you're losing by only five goals and Shawn's huge. You can't even do the normal dodging and ducking and bouncing to try and see the screen regardless, because when you say he blocks the screen, you mean he blocks all of it. Every single inch. You leap sideways on the couch, extending your leg to poke his, and continue playing.

“Move, bitch!” You say, mostly to Shawn, but somewhat to the little red Firmino lazily sulking in a corner on your screen. You realise that you're the one controlling the players, realise you suck immensely at doing so, and before you can even try to push a random button and hope it works, Shawn's plopping down on top of you. Heavy, humongous limbs and all.

“Shawn.” You manage to grunt, shrugging your hands free and shooting them up in the air, continuing to blindly press buttons to keep the (terrible) game going. “Get off.”

“Nah.” He easily lifts you slightly off the couch, snaking his hands underneath you, and plops his head down on top of your chest, cuddling you into himself. His large tufts of hair tickle your chin, get into your mouth, and cause you to sputter and choke on curls that smell suspiciously like your shampoo. “Too lazy.”

“Shawn. Shawnnnn.” You dig your chin into the top of his head, and his hand comes up to ease your face away. He shuffles downwards, and you'd think he'd be in a mood. That mood. (The tiggly wiggly kind, if you get what I mean.) But he isn't, and then he does something weird, and you're mad because Coutinho sucks as a midfielder (you won't admit that you're the reason why) and he's chosen this exact moment to be a stupid little boy. “Baby. Why is your head inside my t-shirt?”

Shawn kisses your tummy, and then his nose digs into your ribcage, and his head is so large that you're afraid he's going to rip your tee open. (Wouldn't be the first time. Ahem.) He continues peppering light, featherlike kisses down your torso. You'd be laughing if you weren't so intently staring at the replay of a goal that you kicked into your own goalpost, but when he pauses for a second, only to blow a raspberry on the ticklish skin of your stomach, you shriek with laughter. Shawn's head immediately pops out, smug written all over his face, and he props his chin onto your chest.

“Hi.” Grins like the evil fucker that he is, and puckers his lips. “Kiss?”

You let go of your joystick for only a second to shove your middle finger against his pout, picking it up right after, eyeing the game through the corners of your eyes.

“Babe.” Shawn kisses your chin, and then he kisses your jaw, and then your cheek, and then he's whining again. “Hun. Pay attention to me.”

“No.”

“But I love you.” He draws the O out in love, so he's singing loooove you instead of saying it, and you have to bite back a smile. Head in the game, baby, you tell yourself, head in the game.

“That excuse didn't work when I wanted to pee and you didn't let me because you were busy jacking off.” You mutter, but mutter it loud enough for him to hear. Shawn sighs, like he can't believe you're still mad over that little incident, but of course you are. Your bladder was ready to incinerate and all he cared about was busting a nut. You would've helped if he weren't so selfish. (Maybe. Mostly not, though. He didn't deserve your help.)

“I was jacking off to you, if that's any consolation…”

“Nope. Not consoled in the slightest. Fuck you.”

Not disheartened at all, Shawn continues planting loud ones all over your face, smacking a kiss on the tip of your nose and then grinning down at you after. Each annoying smooch accompanied by a whispered ‘Mwah!’, he hovers over you, noticing how your cheeks redden and lips part despite your best efforts. He knows you too well, and sometimes you hate him for it.

“You know,” He starts, lowering himself so he's practically muttering against your lips now, breathing you in. You continue smashing buttons, feigning nonchalance. “I'm sure Mo Salah wouldn't like knowing that he's been cockblocking the couple of the century…”

You go to push him away, but not before puckering your lips and quickly, effortlessly kissing him back. There's only so much self control you can have, right? But before you can push him away, you notice the lack of a joystick in your hand, and realise that Shawn’s used your moment of weakness to pause the game and chuck your beloved toy away. You pout, tugging at a curl that brushes against your forehead, and rest your hands against his clothed chest.

“I was having a good game.”

“You were losing by nine goals..”

“And?” You deadpan, feeling his hot breath against your lips. You're not mad, of course you aren't, your cute boyfriend wants to kiss you and he smells like lemons so really, who are you to complain? But he's undermining your gaming skills and that is not something you have a thick skin for. “I've lost twenty four nil before.”

Shawn chuckles, dropping his forehead against yours, and kisses you gently, as if apologising. “My gamer girl. Every guy's wet dream.”

You snort, playfully slapping his chest, and allow him to guide your arms around his torso. “Shut up,” you mutter, smiling against his lips, “Let's make out.”

“Finally doing something you're good at, eh?”

“Hey, fuck you!”

“Oh,” Shawn kisses you, hard and fast. When he pulls away, there's an evil glint of promise in his eyes, one that has your thighs clenching under him. “Oh, I think you will, babe.”

hi i'll put the link for the types of kisses list somewhere in the comments pls excuse me i'm tired and particularly shitty

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #blurb #fluff #shawnmendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader #my writing

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a-totally-legit-farm · 5 years

Text

The Meeting

He watched the table of executives shift in their seats, malicious whispers filled the rooms as their glares swiveled between Nikoma, lazily leaned against a wall a few feet from Jenna’s seat, and the door, through which Jenna was expected to walk three minutes ago. Nik tugged at his tie, its sloppy knot sitting uneven around his ruffled collar. This whole get-up was Jenna’s idea – the grey shirt, the red tie, dress pants and expensive, brown boots, rounded out by a jacket strung over his shoulder, adorning the sword still strapped fast on his back. Given the proper preparation, according to Jenna, he’d fit right in at the executive table.

Angry eyes tracked his every movement, but he nonchalantly went about his business – flicking his lighter, checking his phone (another new, city-spurred addition to Nikoma’s usual accessories.), and slipping a cigarette into his mouth only to sheathe it back into its packet. Yet another vice Jenna had been attempting to wring out of him for the sake of ‘being professional’. Like he gave a shit.

He put the smoke between his lips, and brought the lighter up to the end, the flint sparking hot embers, likely as scalding as the comments being passed around the room at his expense. It didn’t matter, he was moments away from that first rush of nicotine. The end burned bright, as his breath passed through the smouldering tobacco…

The edge of a clipboard brushed past his nose, swatting the cigarette out of his hands and into the carpet. The room went silent as black heels pressed the lit ash into submission. “Stand straight, Mr. Ishii. Miss Simmons will be here shortly, and we will not tolerate slack.” The newcomer’s voice was sharp, breathy, quiet, intended for Nikoma only, but heard by the whole room. The vein in Nik’s forehead was bulging, his jaw clenched, but begrudgingly, he stood up straight, put away his lighter, and gazed expectantly towards the door. He didn’t say a single word to Jenna’s new assistant, Mitsy Moore. She was ex-military of some kind, an honorable discharge, as if being associated with the military was in any way honourable. It didn’t matter to him, she was little more than a nuisance.

The woman placed down a stack of papers in front of Jenna’s seat, and took her place a few feet from where Nikoma was standing. Nikoma leant over, his eyes still trained towards the door – many executives were following his suit, preparing for Simmons’ arrival. “When’s she- ”

“Shh.”

Nikoma rolled his eyes and continued talking to the brunette. “When’s she showing up?” Mitsy’s glare was like the ones the executives were barraging him with before, however, she did shake her head and mutter out a quiet response. “Miss Simmons has been busy with contractors. Something about real estate development in a rural valley. ETA for Miss Simmons is five minutes.” Moore tapped her clipboard with her pen, nodding at her own statement.

Nikoma couldn’t help but look Mitsy up and down. The girl knew how to dress, with something as simple as a white blouse and black dress pants, her dark hair bunned up at the back, she held an aura of officiality, of organization. Mitsy Moore was not here to mess around. Unfortunately, the executives didn’t care.

“Come on lady, where’s Simmons?” An older man heckled her, throwing his hand up in irritation. Moore attempted to speak up, but another man dogpiled on. “We’ve been sitting here for 30 minutes! We all have work to do!” Mitsy once again attempted to quell the rising tide of complaints, but soon the entire room was roaring with angry executives. Nikoma stood up straight and took half a step forward. Finally, something for him to do -

Cue Jenna, enter stage right through the boardroom doors.

For someone so late, she moved with little remorse. Each step was swift, and deliberate, cool and calculated. She reminded Nikoma of the vipers he would sometimes see in the scrub; the way they twisted through leaves and branches, weaving closer towards their victims, with sinister and slow intent. The room had mostly gone quiet – a few brave souls still whispered out of spite. Jenna’s short, blue dress snaked behind in her wake, a beautiful gold crescent draped around her neck, and some sort of designer thigh high boots, she wouldn’t have looked out of place at a gala, and knowing her, it was more than likely that’s where she came from. Jenna took her place at the end of the meeting table, her posture calm, laid back, her legs crossed. Her pose emanated sheer confidence; her cocky, sideways smile totally unfazed by the raucous she must have heard.

“Good evening,” Jenna’s voice lingered, a sweet venom dripping from her ruby red lips, her sapphire eyes scanning the room in front of her for any lapse in attention. Of course, all eyes were on her. “I’m sure you all are excited to learn what the past year of business ventures have brought us…” Jenna noticed a few of the cockier executives had already begun trading rude remarks. She could already guess the taunts. Rumors had spread around the office – confidence in Jenna had dropped significantly ever since she had left the helm of the company to seemingly galivant around the countryside, which was only compounded when she came back to do the same in Zuzu’s cityscape.

“But before we get started, I’d like to tell a little story.” And so the spider invited the flies onto her web, stringing them along to the tune of her tale. Nikoma rolled his eyes – Mitsy was awestruck, she was absorbing every single movement, every word that Jenna sweetly spoke. The poor girl couldn’t see past the siren’s song, couldn’t see the monster lurking in the depths of Jenna’s blue eyes. “Four years ago, I took over this sorry company from my joke of a father. Since then, I have singlehandedly increased profit margins by 14%. I stripped back unionization around here to the point that their threats amount to a kitten’s meows. I lobbied for tax breaks in the parliament! I changed the law!” That drummed up a wave of murmuring, a hushed, reluctant admittance. “I did more for this company in 48 months than my parents had in half a decade. I’ve done more for this company than all of you chimps combined!” Her voice was sharp now, cutting through the approval she had just garnered.

“And I noticed something, while I was doing your jobs for you. Any of you geniuses wanna have a guess as to what it is?” The siren had turned to a gorgon, her hand striking the table to emphasize her words. She stood up, and began pacing, up and down the boardroom table, stone cold eyes piercing the back of the unfortunate executive’s heads. “No? No guesses?” She sniped, turning to Nikoma, “Seems the monkeys are mute as well as dumb, eh, Nikky?” The swordsman retorted with an amused snort. Jenna was in her habitat, and she was thriving.

The CEO nodded at Mitsy, and within seconds the attentive assistant had a projector blasting colour on the whiteboard wall. “Let me say it plain and simple, so it isn’t lost on your degenerate minds. JojaMart continues to kick our ass. Four years ago, this company was the seventh best retail supermarket in the country. Three years ago? I got us to the third. Then the second. I pulled this company to the crown of Mount Olympus, hoping my purportedly unbreakable team of super-execs could push us to the top, that they could do the one thing that I actually needed them to do.” She was hissing at this point, pushing her disappointment through her front teeth.

“So, before I left, in an effort to do your jobs for you, I figured out why the fuck Joja beats us so often. It was simple, actually. All of our best-grossing stores are in the middle of metropolis, where consumers are stock for choice. All of Joja’s best selling stores? The fuckin’ sticks. They plant one store in the middle of nowhere, and all those hicks stranded out in who-gives-a-shit-ville get to pick between going broke in a local corner store, or forking over their hard earned cash to Joja.” Jenna’s snarl had slowly shifted to a smile. The executives hadn’t spoken up since Jenna’s tirade had started, and Nikoma had to chuckle at how loose lipped the CEO had become with her insults. He peeled his eyes off of Jenna for a second just to check on Mitsy – and the girl was practically drooling. Clearly she had a thing for authority figures. Slowly, the executives began chattering between themselves again; Jenna may have been calling them dim, but they were putting the puzzle pieces together in their head.

“And here’s the kicker.” Jenna cut in, disrupting the growing chorus of moneymaking whispers. “Even when they’re going broke, they pick the more expensive, local corner store.” The projector clicked, and some familiar faces were plastered on the wall. Morris. Anderson. Eadwulf. “These are some of the associates in Stardew Valley’s JojaMart branch. Their prices? They’re honestly great. They undercut the local market by a solid 10 percent, if not more. But it’s dead. The store is lifeless, and everyone hates it. These are not faces that hillbillies want to talk to while they buy bread and milk. That formula works fine here in Zuzu. Customers don’t give a shit, they don’t care if no one talks to them. They don’t want to be talked to. But out there…” The projector clicked again. Nikoma raised an eyebrow at the new slides – portfolios on the Valley’s inhabitants. Hayden, Kirkpatrick, Aristízabal, the Valerians, and a few others Nikoma hadn’t met.

Well, hadn’t met sober.

“I spent 6 months in that hole-in-the-ground Valley. I watched the locals, figured out what they wanted. I met with contractors, created personas, contingency plans, budgets and blueprints. I even got them thinking I did farming of my own. The peasants want friendly, trust-worthy faces.” Pierre’s mug appeared next. “They buy tat from this freak even if it means missing out on deals at JojaMart. Why? Because it’s warm, it’s friendly, he has a wife, and friends, and no air conditioning. It’s familiar.”

“This schmuck beats JojaMart through being familiar. So that’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to create a familiar experience, with Joja-low prices. The last six months? I’ve been figuring out shipping routes, warehouses, refrigeration, and contracts. Stuff that clearly is too advanced for any of you.” Another snipe, another snort from Nikoma, still leaned casually against the wall. “I’ve taken cuts to my own paycheck, and created a new farmstead and microbrewery in Stardew Valley. I have paid farmhands to tend the crops, to give the allusion we are locals. After some risk analysis, and the formalization of a business plan, I’ll employ the least flea-ridden of you bunch to put together teams that will create a new type of rural supermarket – one that gives cold, hard deals combined with warm, soft smiles. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can convince some of those hicks to sign contracts that will allow me to undercut the people they call their friends.”

The room was left stunned. What CEO in their right mind would dock their own pay in such a risky business venture? Sure, it was essentially a holiday house, but on a piece of land worth almost nothing, surrounded by more virtually valueless land. Mitsy clicked through a few more slides, and Jenna continued to narrate graphs and numbers and personas with business jargon, projections and analysis. Nikoma started zoning out. He knew Jenna had been up to shady business, and he knew there was a reason they’d left town for the better part of the year. He had been piecing it all together, albeit much too slow. The midnight phone calls, the suspiciously perfect plants, the files on every person he’d met. It made him a little sick, this capitalist grip that Jenna was trying to exert over the Valley, but she had him under her thumb. She knew where his father’s flask was.

Mitsy moved from her post at the projector, and buzzed around the room, handing out some drafts outlining what Jenna had figured out, or something like that. Nikoma didn’t care, yet for some reason, Mitsy still pushed the paper into his hand – which he promptly dropped. He glared at the assistant, and she glared right back. She picked up the paper, and smacked Nik in the side with it. He bared his teeth in threat, but she ignored it, taking her place back on the other side of Jenna’s chair.

After what felt like hours of grueling business speak, Jenna was done talking. She stood behind her chair, leaning on the back, smirking. The execs flipped through the paper, trying to take it all in. It took Jenna exactly 34 minutes to turn a room of cutthroat turncoats into a flock of subdued sheep, each one leashed by the puppet strings attached to the paper they held. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to listen to me, my good friends.” Her tone had completely changed again, the technical talk over and done with, it was time to comfort bruised egos with sweet talk, “And remember, in the end, the fate of SimCo comes down to each and every one of us. Together, we will crack this rural market, and take the top spot from Joja!” The room was filled with hurrahs, people excited by the prospect of new money. Jenna took a bow, and signaled Mitsy and Nik to follow.

They were headed back to the Valley.

#drabble #hey guys im back did ya miss me #jenna drabble #nik drabble #mitsy drabble #introducing mitsy moore #jenna simmons #nikoma ishii #mitsy moore

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helpinghanikan · 6 years

Text

Soulmates

Avengers (and Matt Murdock) x Reader

Sum: Different Soulmate AUs for your reading pleasure.

Steve Rogers: Name on wrist

It was just another meeting with the lawyers on Fury’s personal retainer. Four men and women around a table, mountains of paperwork and nothing but droning voices. Making sure that he knew his rights, what people may try to trick him with and that he was a massive entitlement from the government.

His chair squeaks the farther he leans backwards. Your hands clasp together under the chin, sleeve sliding past the wrist in an enticing manner. Top section of dark gray lettering revealing itself over the dark shirt sleeve.

Seeing your name on the retainer list was like a shot of caffeine. It was the same spelling, holding his wrist against the small printed name just to make sure. He hadn’t looked at that name since he was woken from ice, assuming who ever he was meant to be with was either dead or close to it.

He had the chance to check but lost it when all the lawyers nodded instead of shaking hands. For the third time that meeting yours eyes locked for a brief second before looking back down to your papers. By the fourth he was already looking your way and held it.

Something about insurance, something about past personal affairs.

From a clasped hands one slides down your marked arm. Cloth gently pulled downwards, showing more and more of skin until the black not-ink was shown raw. You pretend not to notice Steve staring, pretend to be the good lawyer listening to her colleague.

Steven Grant Rogers

His chair squeaks while turning. Your spot at the edge of the table allowed for the show. A sigh and he slides down in the chair, it was hot in the room, perfectly understandable that his sleeves be rolled up. Arm returning, palm up, to over his thigh. Same font, same spot was your first, middle and last name.

Although there was no difference in volume, and impression from the other lawyers, the entire air turned cold. Clasped hands to your face, staring to the lawyers hoping they’d get your mental message of “hurry up and get out”.

It’d be almost twenty minutes before they got the hint.

Tony Stark: Worlds become color

He started playing the game in high school.

“Everyone line up, lets see if any of you get to be Mister or Misses billionaire.”

For maybe an hour he’d shake hands with every guest willing. An old tradition royalty and nobles did back during the time of swords and mead. The rich still tended to do this, either their child finds their soulmate and they go from there. Or their children became so tired of the years of searching and would give up. Willing themselves to marry within their station.

It was like a game show for his guests, everyone scrambling for an invite just for the slim chance they see color.

You were among the regular waitstaff for the Stark parties. A first out of college job while you worked your dreams as an artist. Rich people and their attitudes were always inspiration for your newest piece.

It was an obvious order that Tony Stark’s hand cannot ever be empty. Black vest and white long sleeves made the staff practically invisible. Anyone near Tony was always ready to replace his empty crystal with a full one. It was four parties into your career with the Starks before you were up next to exchange the glass.

He didn’t look over when you gently took the empty glass from the top rim. Carefully placing the full glass back into his grip, your fingers touch and the glass shatters.

He’s brown hair and dark eyes made caramel in the sunlight. His sunglass, ruby red and silver framed, came off in a flash. The shattering of the glass grabbed everyone’s attention, but without Tony yelling (like other guests have in the past) no one made a move to see if anything could be done.

People talk about meeting their mate and seeing the world’s colors. They talk about who the beauty of the world knocked the wind out of them. They never mentioned how you be left with no idea how to proceed.

“Hi,” You whispered, starting with an introduction.

His arm is around your back, pulling your hard into his center, the other held the back of your neck. Hug was tight, his face presses into the side of your neck like a closed mouth his.

Thor: Red string

Confusion was a word too simple to explain your childhood life. All the pictures, all the story books and movies with the little red ribbons always led outwards. A direction into the world you were destined to follow. Yours didn’t do that, yours went straight upwards.

“That’s stupid,” you friend said when you explained your ribbon. She didn’t believe you, no one you ever told believed you.

Throughout your life different theories came and went; that your mate was an angel, an alien or maybe they were just dead. By middle school you knew what you had to do; you had to become an astronaut. Red line was going straight up and that’s where you had to go.

First time it pointed towards somewhere on earth was a major shock. It wasn’t uncommon for people to take a pilgrimage following their ribbon sometime after high school. You honestly had a plan forming to try and find your fallen angel, but the ribbon shot skyward one morning without warning. It was so sudden that your drink spills all over your clothes.

You never did become an astronaut liked you had dreamed. Not that you ever needed to, one look on the TV and you saw the red ribbon around the wall of the man with the hammer. Hands to your cheeks, how would you ever get to him?

Bucky Barnes: Injuries

The moment you find your soulmate you’re gonna kick their ass.

Walking to lunch your shoulder explodes in blood and bone across the tile. Shock keeps you from the pain but screams of your classmates would ring in your ears for years to come. Sirens, an ambulance ride and your resting in the hospital.

It was like this since you were a new born. A massive injury would appear, and you’d be rushed to the hospital, then there’d be complete radio silence from your soulmate for up to years at a time. It happened several times throughout your life: blasted shoulder, a cut running from your hip to the knee, busted jaw and internal injuries that had you coughing blood. All of these were followed hours later by a headache that had you screaming.

Bucky stared at you in horror as you tell the stories. Laughing at your story that was absolute terror at one point in your life and was now a funny story.

Natasha Romanoff: Markings you make they get

It took some time before your mate wrote back. Years of small messages on forearms and little hearts over the collar bone all to get nothing back. The day your bestie ran up to you with a message of “Hi” in messy ink you almost cried.

One morning, your senior year, there was a smiley face. Right corner of your mouth; two little lines, a dot and a curved line. The ink was thick, like from wet eyeliner, smearing when you touched it. Immediately a picture was taken. With your blue mascara you drew the smallest butterfly on your non-dominate wrist. It would be hours before they drew another, smallest little smiley on your shoulder.

That was how your relationship for a majority of your life. They never responded with words to your questions you wrote out. Only little smileys and hearts on your body. Their way of saying; I’m still here, my Love, I’m still alive.

It continued into your adult life, into your work with SHIELD as a lawyer and into that meeting with select Avengers. Steve Rogers, Vision and Natasha Romanoff, the unofficial representatives of the Avengers to the public world. You sat off to the side, little baby lawyer ready to be asked any question but only acknowledged at the beginning.

Blue pen presses into your palm. Drawing a large heart and adding the little circles within it’s lines. Glancing up every now and then, making sure no one has suddenly decided you’re worth looking to.

The swirls venture past your palm and onto your hand. Around the thumb, under the fingers and down to the wrist. You’re a grown adult with a college degree and your doodling on your hand. Realizing this you turn back tot eh table. Straightening up in time to see Miss. Romanoff looking right at you. You look away after making eye contact, only looking back to see her pen working below her thumb nail.

Two little dots and a curved line appeared on your thumb.

Bruce Banner: First thing said

“Hello, anybody here?” you spoke years before the big guy, when he was just a regular scientist, working to add to his collection of PHDs.

“Yeah, over here.” With no pain black ink sketched over both your wrists.

The interaction was small; you, a professor’s assistant popping in to grab a forgotten file. He, one of said professor’s students preferring the lab over whatever fun his fellow classmates were doing.

“I just need…these.” You said grabbing the file off the nearby table and went on your way. “Oh, okay, goodnight.”

That was the extent of your interaction. You didn’t even say goodnight before disappearing into the hallway. It took a few hours before Bruce noticed his arm, for you it’d be the next morning.

Yeah, over here. Who the fuck said that to you? You greet and talk to so many people at your job, who the hell said yeah, over here to you?

Bruce wasn’t doing any better, there were several people that came into the lab. All asking around the same type of question if the lab was empty or not. Both of you spending the rest of the week trying to remember.

It wasn’t until a case of déjà vu that both of you genius dumbasses realized.

“Hello, anybody in here?”

“Yeah, over here.”

The few second silence was the human equivalent of the dial-up noise.

T’challa: Same heart beat

Yours knees were bruised, hitting the tile floor before the rest of your body. Elbows were next, and then your face followed. Wavering before finishing sideways on the company kitchen floor.

Most get used to these heart problems early on in life. When your Mate decides to run and jump and play while you have to go to bed, when you visit a haunted house and your mate is probably suffering at every turned corner. It was amazing that yours was still alive, since the start of your adult life, your heart has randomly skyrocketed so many times you had gotten used to it.

Slowly down, though. Lowering until you were on your knees, that was something new. Hand to your heart your eyes roll back, hitting the ground.

It was over a day before you woke up. Heart rate began racing again, Nurse looking between you and the monitor, hand on your wrist and asking; “What does your mate do?”

“Piss me off."

Pietro: Whatever they taste

It’s two-forty-six in the morning, and you taste seafood.

Your soulmate must weigh at least three hundred pounds at the rate in which he is eating. From hearty meats to thick pastas in the early morning, late night soups and midday sweets. Mostly candy and ice cream a few times when you’re trying to focus.

Taking a test and strawberry candy is in the back of your throat. Middle of the work day and you’re drooling over some perfect, medium rare steak.

You almost felt bad that all they were getting in return were Ramen noodles and microwave popcorn.

Peter Parker: last thing said.

“I’ll finish it tonight.”

Something said hundreds of times a day in a high school. Students promising teachers and kids promising parents. Because of this Peter had spent years staying on his toes. Aunt May made it her duty to try and calm her nephew, telling him that “It was okay, that’s long long off.” With his aunt’s kind words, he’s never worried about the writing on his wrist.

“See you tomorrow.” You had said, project in your arms.

It would be later that night Peter looked at his wrist. I’ll finish it tonight, he scrubs at it out of habit. Maybe the dark not-ink would scrub away, thus making his soulmate immortal.

Aunt May sits forward on the couch when he comes out. Hands over mouth, she doesn’t respond to “what’s wrong?” Peter taking a seta next to her, quiet as the feed plays through the small apartment.

A missed placed screw in a cars engines and the brakes still work, for a time. They give out during that brief dream like moment when traffic is moving. Panic and the driver can’t stop, panic and she veers to avoid pedestrians, head first into a sidewalk where citizens and shoppers had a few second window to run.

Casualties were in the single digits, they’d grow as the night continued. With the driver clutching his head and sobbing the news caster could only say the cause was still under investigation.

A memorial was already in the works at Midtown in your honor.

Stephen Strange: Mark where they touch you first

Shifting colors from pink, to purple, to blue and into red play underneath your skin and stitches. The surgery wasn’t long, just a small one to remove a screw driver after a serious fall. It was enough that you had to be put under. Waking up hours later with a new glowing side.

For years you’ve been convinced you’d never have soul-mate. No charcoal black spot on your skin anywhere. Friends with black wrist and dark knuckles, one boy had a perfect handprint plain on his cheek. You’d later find out he was to be slapped by the mother of his three children. You’d lie and tell the world that your mark was “somewhere private”. This only suggested that yours was going to be an unsavory character.

The colors were faded under your skin. A sunset waiting to escape from the confines of meat and stitches. You had noticed them after waking from the surgery.

“Who did the surgery?” You had asked the nurse when she popped her head in.

“I don’t- I’ll find out.” He said quickly leaving the person holding their gown chest high.

Only one of the surgeons had come out from the operating room with different colors. He was tall, all leg and arm with the right fingers and dark hair. Even back then he had a swagger confidence, one that had you second guessing the choices of whatever paired off soulmates.

Matt Murdock: Danger meter

One inch below your dominate hand was an eight, written like a scar over the thickest vein. It shifted and changed throughout your life, starting at a one on the day of your birth and growing through the years.

Never in your life would you think that number belonged to Matt. The blind man who is constantly bumping into things and hurting himself on air. Not many bothered in trying to find their mates, it was honestly almost impossible to tell. You were among those people, choosing your blind boy needing protection over those that fit the number.

Your arm would be intertwined with his whenever out. Other hand at the constant ready to move or warn Matt about the dangers of the world. You had only ever glanced at Matt’s wrist once, a deep three on his pulse point. This was the average number for an unarmed adult with one or two self-defense classes. All this told you was that it’d be a real fight if his soul-mate ever showed up.

You don’t see the smirk Matt always had when you take his arm. You sleep too deep to hear the shifting bed and any injury is excused, his smirk coming back as you lecture about he being more careful. You’re only mildly aware of his thumb during the quiet moments. His thumb sliding over the pulse point, slight pressure on the thickest vein, little figure eights over an number you don’t care about.

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

Carol Danvers

Airforce captain Carol Danvers, going under the Alias Captain Marvel was a turning point in… The article only told her name once. The rest referring to both her, and the entire assault party, by their alias names.

Not that she was really brought up again. Just like almost every cover of the battle it was almost entirely dedicated to Tony Stark.

You really should be mourning with the rest of the world. Instead your dead looking eyes were switching through the internet. Looking for anything small or large about Captain Marvel. Most of what you found were of military photos, which would mean your destined woman was not only a beauty but a fighter. And the rest were straight up balls of light streaking the sky in the nineties and only a few recently, although no less colorful and powerful. Which could mean your enemy was an incredibly powerful force.

It might be best to just try and not find out which she was.

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

Shang-Chi

In terms of the meter a one means your mate is perfectly safe, cozy, and comfy. While a ten means your mate has a bullet flying right at them. It’s hard to remember the last time your meter was below a three.

This was the number equivalent of being near a large and aggressive dog. In elementary school you didn’t understand what exactly this meant. Only that teachers, parents and adults were always double checking your wrist. Asking how old you were and then letting you go with a sigh. Changing the subject to something more fun.

Eventually you had to learn what the meter meant. Especially in middle school when the meter randomly shot up to eight and stayed there for several months.

Stress and heartache for someone you had never met brought with it dropping grades and very late nights. It also brought with it a new personal and family rule of bracelets and long sleeves. As the only thing that could be done was to have the “out of sight, out of mind” approach.

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lastbluetardis · 5 years

Text

Family of Six (8/14)

After James and Rose bring their newborn twins home, they work to find a balance between all four of their children, and each other. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU.

This chapter: Explicit, 7800 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 33, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 1 month

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

Next update: October 1st

AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14

As promised, James and Rose made arrangements to take Ainsley out for some one-on-one time. Consumed with lingering guilt that their daughter felt alone in the family, they asked Robert to stay at home with Sianin and the twins for a few hours so they could both spend the evening out with their eldest child.

“I wanna come!” Sianin whined as they prepared to leave after dinner.

“I know you do, but this is an outing just for me, Mummy, and Ainsley,” James said patiently. As Rose and Ainsley made their way to the car, he crouched down in front of his six-year-old. “You know how you’re feeling a bit upset because Mummy and I are a little bit busier now that the twins are here?” Sianin gave a brief, grudging nod. “Well, Ainsley feels a little like that too. She’s bit sad like you.”

“But I wanna come. If we’re both sad, then why can’t we both go out with you and Mummy? It’s not fair.”

James was impressed with his child’s reasoning skills. The pout she was wearing nearly broke his resolve; but the memory of Ainsley’s nervous explanation of her anxieties and loneliness bolstered him.

He kissed Sianin’s forehead. “We’ll make plans to go out alone with you, too. Eh? But it’s Ainsley’s turn tonight.”

Sianin grumbled a bit more, but eventually said, “You promise?”

“Cross my heart,” he said gravely, making an ‘X’ across his chest, before he copied the letter onto Sianin’s chest.

She huffed out a sigh but kissed her father goodbye and went to pester her grandfather.

“We’ll be back by bedtime,” he called out, then joined Rose and Ainsley in the car.

Their first trip was to an ice cream shop, where they bought the largest sundae and all shared it. James and Rose scooted their chairs beside Ainsley’s, crowding around one half of the small, circular table, passing the spoon between them as they made absent conversation.

Their next stop was to the library. They went to the one a little further out of town—it had a much larger selection, and Ainsley’s library card worked there too.

The moment they stepped through the doors, Ainsley bolted for the Young Adult section; they soon lost her amidst the shelves.

“Notice how it’s supposed to be a family outing, and she goes and leaves us behind,” James whined half-heartedly, mostly to make Rose laugh. It had the intended effect—she chuckled and bumped her hip into his as she threaded her fingers through his.

“I wish we could do this more often,” Rose said, strolling casually through the labyrinthine bookshelves and perusing a few titles. “But I feel bad for always calling on Dad to babysit.”

“Oh, you know he loves it,” James said.

“I know. It’s not so bad for now, since the twins are just babies. But when they’re toddlers, it might be harder for him to keep up. He’s not getting any younger.”

Her words stopped him short, twisting something sharp in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Catching the bite in his words, Rose stopped and face him. Her brows knitted together. “Nothing. I didn’t…”

“My dad’s fine,” James gritted out. “He’s in perfect health and condition.”

“I know that,” Rose said patiently.

“The twins’ll be toddlers in only a couple years. It’s not like he’s gonna deteriorate that quickly.”

“James, I know,” Rose said, her voice soft. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Her thumb brushed against the back of his. The movement drew his attention to their hands, where he’d been squeezing until their knuckles went white. He released her fingers.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry, I… He’s seventy, Rose. I know he’s in perfect health but still. Seventy.”

“I know.” She reached up and cradled his cheeks, making him look at her. “I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

James tilted his head into her touch before pressing a kiss to her palm.

“Let’s find Ainsley before she decides she’s moving in,” James said wanly.

Rose scanned his face for a moment, but nodded. She tucked his hand in hers again and hugged his arm to her chest. As they patrolled the aisles searching for their daughter, he felt Rose’s gaze flick to him every now and then.

“I’m fine, Rose,” he said after the dozenth time. “I’m not upset with you.”

“I feel bad,” she admitted. “I spoke carelessly.”

“But you had no ill intent. I forgive you.” He ducked down and kissed her forehead. “Seriously.”

Ainsley interrupted them a moment later. “Is this one all right for me?”

They had a rule that if she wanted to read a book above her age bracket, they needed to check if it would be suitable for her. She was pretty good about censoring her own material—they’d rarely had to reject any of her book choices.

“Let’s see,” James said. He took the book from her, and as Rose Googled it, he idly flipped through the pages, on the lookout for too much gore, violence, or sex. Nothing in particular caught his eye, so he peered over Rose’s shoulder to skim the book blogging site she tended to use to get feedback on a particular book.

“Seems all right,” Rose said, glancing up at him.

He handed the book back to Ainsley, who beamed and tucked it under her arm before disappearing amidst the shelves again.

“I love that she loves to read.” Rose smiled at their daughter’s back.

“Me too. If only we could get Sianin as excited about it.” Whereas Ainsley had learned to read by age four and often took over her bedtime stories, Sianin still preferred being read to and rarely took initiative to read by herself. They would soon need to enforce Sianin reading aloud to them for at least a few minutes every day.

“She’ll get there,” Rose said, patting his arm. “And if not, that’s all right too. She’ll find something else she’s passionate about.”

They found Ainsley in one of the many cushioned chairs by the wall of windows. She sat sideways, her back against one armrest and her knees draped over the other. A small pile of books was on the floor beside her, and she was engrossed in the book she’d asked them to vet.

She jumped when Rose rested a hand on her shoulder, not having heard them approach.

“I know this is a safe, public space,” Rose said, “but you really should stay more aware of your surroundings.”

Ainsley smiled sheepishly.

“Good thing we’re not here to lure you into the back of our van,” James teased. A middle-aged woman glared sharply at him, and his face flushed. “I’m her father, don’t worry.”

The woman appraised them for a moment before turning back to her magazine.

Ainsley was biting her lip to smother her laughter; Rose had a similar expression on her face.

“Oh, shut up,” he said, knocking his hip into Rose’s and tugging gently on a lock of Ainsley’s hair. “Are you ready to go, darling?”

“Can’t we stay a little while longer?” Ainsley asked. “It’s so calm here. Besides, I need you to okay those for me.”

She pointed to the stack of books on the floor. So James and Rose sat by Ainsley’s sofa, perusing the books slowly to give their daughter a bit more time. When they finally couldn’t justify dawdling any longer, Rose said, “When you reach a good stopping point, we’ll leave.”

“The end of the book does not count as a good stopping point,” James amended.

Ainsley poked her tongue out at him. Five minutes later, she stuffed a bookmark into the pages and moved to the front desk to check out her little stack.

When they returned home, Hannah and Maddie were asleep on a blanket in the living room, their fine hair damp from a recent bath. Sianin’s hair was likewise wet, and she was curled with Robert on the couch, watching television.

James couldn’t help but observe his father for a moment. He didn’t look his age at all: his hair was more gray than white, and his skin, while lined with wrinkles, was fairly taut rather than loose and saggy. His body was strong, his eyes bright with intelligence and life. James couldn’t imagine his father ever being a hunched, weak old man.

Rose must’ve caught on to his silent observations—and the reason for them—for she gave his hand a small squeeze.

Robert stayed long enough to put Sianin to bed per the six-year-old’s request. Sianin had hugged and kissed her parents before tugging her grandad to her bedroom to tuck her in and read to her.

“Thanks for tonight,” Ainsley said, skipping up to kiss her parents on the cheek. “It was a lot of fun.”

“You’re very welcome,” James replied. “You know, your bedtime isn’t for another half hour.”

“I know. I’m gonna sit in bed and read for a bit.”

“You can do that in the living room, if you’d prefer,” Rose said. “You can always use nighttime for a bit of one-on-one time with me and your dad.”

Ainsley cocked her head to the side, as though she’d never considered that. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I could. But I really want to keep reading. Maybe tomorrow. Can we forgo reading aloud tonight?”

“Just for tonight,” James said.

“How long will I have to read aloud to you?” Ainsley asked curiously. “Like… will I be seventeen and you guy’s’ll be squeezed onto my bed as I read to you?”

James laughed. “No, probably not that long.” He then stuck his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it. Are you getting sick of it?”

Ainsley’s eyes widened. “No! Not at all. I was just wondering.”

“Then probably until you officially get sick of it,” Rose concluded. “God knows you read enough on your own as it is.”

Ainsley smiled and with a parting kiss, departed to her room.

James and Rose retired to the sofa, with Rose giving the twins their nightly feeding and James working on a Sudoku puzzle booklet beside her.

“Why don’t you skip the easy and medium puzzles?” Rose asked when he’d breezed through the first ten pages of the puzzle book in the time it took the twins to nurse. “Start on the hard levels?”

James shrugged. “Seems a waste to not do the earlier puzzles. Besides, sometimes a tricky medium sneaks in there and stumps me for a bit.”

“One of these days I’ll buy you a book that contains only hard ones,�� Rose said as she shifted Hannah to one shoulder.

It was past Ainsley’s official bedtime by the time both babies were asleep. While Rose put the babies into the bassinets in her and James’s bedroom, James went to check that their eldest had put her book away and settled down for the night.

“She was already asleep,” James announced when he and Rose settled onto the sofa again.

“Brilliant,” Rose said, tucking herself into his side.

He hummed and opened an arm for her, enjoying the warmth of her smaller body against his.

“How can we manage going out one-on-one with all of our kids?” James mused, tipping his head back to rest against the sofa.

“Well, if it’s just one of us going, the other stays behind with all the other kids,” Rose answered.

“Yes, yes, I surmised as much,” he said. “But if we wanted to do something like this again with Ainsley? Obviously, we probably can’t do it frequently, but every couple of weeks?”

“We can keep asking Dad,” Rose said. “Or look into having a proper babysitter. When I start working again, we’ll probably need one. At least for a couple hours when the kids get home from school.”

That caught James’s attention. “Do you want to start working again?”

“I told you ages ago I’d hoped to open my own photography studio someday,” Rose reminded. “That’s way off in the future, but something to keep in the back of our heads. I love being a stay at home mum, but I miss my art. And the thing about running my own studio, I can keep my own hours and take on the projects I want to do. There’s loads of flexibility there.”

James nodded and brushed a kiss to the top of her head. It wasn’t as though he’d forgotten about Rose’s dream of opening her own studio, but it had been well over a year since she’d last brought it up—he assumed she’d abandoned that particular dream.

“Well, whenever you decide to start, we’ll talk logistics,” James said.

Rose hummed wordlessly and turned her body into his. She slipped her hand underneath his jumper to rest at the skin just above the waistband of his jeans, and she caressed the sensitive skin with her thumb while she pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Love you,” she murmured.

“Love you, too,” he breathed.

“Head back.”

Following the command mindlessly, he groaned softly when she planted long, open mouthed kisses to his neck and jaw. Her lips, tongue, and teeth traversed his neck, and when she got to his Adam’s apple, her weight shifted.

“Scoot over a bit,” Rose ordered, her voice husky, and James couldn’t help but obey.

He wriggled over a few inches, far enough for her knees to be planted on either side of his hips as she straddled him.

“This is nice,” he squeaked out, his voice higher than he wished. He cleared his throat.

“Indeed,” Rose agreed, before she ducked down to continue laving her attention across his neck.

“What... What’s this for?” he asked, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten what foreplay is?” she teased.

His eyes snapped open. “But… you… we…” It had only been a month since she’d given birth. As much as he ached to make love with her, they couldn’t. Not yet.

She sat back on his lap and he smothered his whine of protest. “Is this all right?”

“Of course,” he said, swallowing against a dry mouth.

“Then can I continue please?” she asked, quirking up an eyebrow. “It has been two weeks since I’ve touched my husband. Remember?”

James’s brain flashed back to that morning in the kitchen, and the throbbing pressure at the front of his trousers pulsed sharply. He nodded dumbly.

She beamed at him, then took his hands—which were fisted uselessly at his sides—and placed them on her bum.

“No boobs for a while, unfortunately,” she lamented.

“I… is this all right?” he rasped, rubbing his thumbs across the soft fabric stretched taut across her bum.

“I put them there, didn't I?” she drawled.

“I just meant…”

His body screamed at him to pull her further into his lap, but he needed to know what she wanted before he took any liberties.

“Let’s see where this goes, eh?” she suggested. “Try not to think too hard if you can help it.”

“Oh, you know me,” he said with a shrug.

“I do,” she agreed. “But I really, really want to snog you.”

Rose leaned down and skimmed the tip of her nose down his, hovering her lips a hair's breadth from his. Her breath puffed tantalizingly against his mouth; he chased the sensation until their lips met.

She exhaled through her nose as she tilted her head to the side, deepening the kiss. Her hands went to his hair while his moved from her bum to her hips to her back, repeating the circuit again and again as he lost himself in Rose.

She was everywhere—there was nothing in the world but him and her and their heated kisses. Their lips pulled and yielded; their tongues danced; their teeth scraped and nipped; their fingers wandered and traced and teased.

Heat boiled in his stomach the longer they kissed, and he longed to carry her to their bedroom to make love thoroughly to her.

“Arms up,” Rose commanded, popping her lips away from his.

“Hmm?”

“Arms. Up,” she repeated, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He scrambled to work with her, but soon his shirt was on the floor, hers following a few seconds later.

“Don’t touch the tits,” she warned, keeping her bra on as a reminder.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

Rose wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing their naked fronts together. James shivered and clutched her tighter, latching his mouth to her collarbone. She moaned and tipped her head back, fisting her hands in his hair to keep his mouth where it was.

He gladly paid attention to her neck, focusing on the place where her neck met her shoulder. That had always been sensitive for Rose and was his go-to erogenous zone for her, especially now that her breasts were out of commission while the twins were nursing.

“James,” she whimpered, her hips working clumsily against him.

He was completely hard and throbbing in his pants, and he bit her neck harder than he intended to when she rubbed against his erection. Rose’s resulting guttural, garbled cry made his apology die on his tongue. Instead, he began sucking harder. He was fairly certain that there was going to be a mark there tomorrow.

“T-touch me,” she gasped, circling her hips against him.

He nodded and slipped a hand down the front of her pajama bottoms. He groaned when his fingers were immediately met with her slippery wetness.

“Tell me to stop if anything’s wrong,” he said.

“Just… not inside,” she said.

James nodded and gently slid his fingers against her; Rose tightened her grip in his hair and hummed low in her throat. He worked his lips and tongue across her throat to give attention to the other side of her neck.

He kept his pace slow and steady, trying to draw out her pleasure for as long as he could. But inevitably she grew impatient and started to grind herself faster into his touch. He arched his hips in time with her rhythm, straining to get friction against his erection. He was on edge but not quite close enough to tip over into pleasure.

But still he kept up with her rhythm, stroking her and kissing her and mumbling filthy nonsense into her skin. He shuddered with need as the sounds of her moans grew more urgent, before she tensed above him. Her body bowed back as she clapped a hand over her mouth to smother her cries of pleasure. He’d nearly forgotten they were on the couch where their kids could not only over-hear them but walk in on them.

He continued his ministrations against her as she panted harshly.

“God, James.” She tugged his face away from her collarbone to crash their mouths together. He hissed into her lips as his arousal snapped sharply into focus. Before he could plead with her, she murmured, “Your turn.”

Rose’s fingers went to the front of his jeans, fumbling with his button and zip. He was so hard and so worked up that even that slight bit of pressure was enough to send him careening towards the abyss.

“Rose,” he panted urgently. His cock throbbed. “Rose, I… I’m… oh, shit.”

Rose covered his lips with hers, smothering his expletives as she stopped trying to get into his jeans and instead rubbed him through the fabric. Whispering words of encouragement that he didn’t need, Rose wrapped her fingers around him as best she could, giving him unbelievable friction that felt so, so good.

James stiffened and grunted against her lips as he released helplessly, embarrassingly, into his pants. His pulse roared in his ears as pleasure surged through him, making his skin sing. Rose stroked firmly through his jeans and pants, prolonging his pleasure as his cock gave a few final, feeble twitches.

Eventually his vision cleared and he popped his lips away from Rose’s to gulp down lungfuls of much-needed fresh air. She still had her hand on his softening cock, not stroking, merely holding. It felt wonderful, but soon the mortification took over.

“Well… that didn’t last long,” he muttered, rubbing a finger into his eyes.

“Did you enjoy it?” Rose asked, pressing lazy kisses to his jaw.

“Very much so,” he said, his body thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Then that’s all that matters,” she said simply, tucking her cheek against his shoulder, seemingly content to stay in his lap. He was happy with the arrangement, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked after a moment.

“You couldn’t tell?” she drawled.

He shrugged. “It’s always nice to have confirmation, y’know. Positive reinforcement and all.”

“In that case, I enjoyed it very, very much. Though I fear it’s going to make these next couple weeks impossible to wait through. I want to drag you to our room and make love with you ‘til dawn.”

He hummed in agreement and nuzzled closer to her. “It’ll go by faster than we think. For now, this is more than enough.”

They sat on the couch for many long minutes, basking in the glorious afterglow. James’s mind was blissfully blank of anything that wasn’t Rose, and he held her tighter, enjoying the press of her body against his.

After a few minutes, James began squirming uncomfortably against the cold wet patch at the front of his boxers.

“Ants in your pants?” Rose asked, her voice thick as though she’d been dozing against his shoulder.

“Something a little more microscopic,” he replied with a grimace.

“Don’t insult yourself like that,” she said, picking her head up to wink at him. Her cheek was pink from being smooshed into his shoulder and her eyes were bleary with sleep.

“Oh, shut up,” he said, pinching her bum. “You knew what I meant.”

Rose stuck her tongue out at him, then slowly clambered off his lap. When she was standing, she held out a hand to pull him up. He stood on shaky legs then glanced down at the front of his jeans. Despite the cooling wetness he felt, there was no outward evidence of the mess in his boxers.

“I’ve always enjoyed making you lose it in your pants,” Rose admitted, bending down to pick up their discarded shirts.

James stared at her in surprise. This was the first he was ever hearing of this.

She shrugged. “It turns me on to know you were so turned on that you couldn’t even wait to be properly naked.”

“And here I was thinking it was a sign that my stamina had gone to shit,” James mused.

Rose snorted. “If the past is any indication, I could work you up again for another round in about twenty minutes or so. My husband’s a bit of a stud.” She winked.

James’s cheeks heated with pride at her compliment.

She bit her lip, then confessed, “And… and it was the first way I’d ever made you come, when we were first exploring our intimacy. I’m probably being weirdly sentimental, but…” She trailed off with a shrug.

His heart squeezed with love for her. He wrapped her in a hug and pressed a long kiss to her cheek.

“I love you.”

She hummed and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. They stood there for a minute, simply holding each other. When they finally broke apart, Rose sighed, “I wish we could have a naked cuddle.”

James bobbed his head in a nod. So did he. Cuddling Rose after a round of lovemaking was one of his favorite post-coital rituals. But with Sianin creeping into bed with them…

“We’ll figure something out,” he promised.

He took her hand in hers and guided her through the house to do their normal nighttime checks: the doors were locked, the lights were off, and both kids were asleep in their beds.

They rushed through their bedtime routine, eager to get back to their cuddle. James put on a fresh pair of boxers and forewent a shirt, while Rose put on a pair of boy shorts and a vest top.

“Not entirely naked, but close enough,” she said as she wriggled into bed beside him.

They tangled together in the middle of the mattress, and James groaned as he held her tight.

“God, this feels great,” Rose said.

He rumbled out an agreement, then he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you.” He kissed her temple. “I love you.” He kissed the skin beneath her ear. “I love you.”

He continued his mantra as he pressed kisses to every inch of skin he could reach. Rose hitched her leg over his hip and used it to drape herself closer, to James’s enjoyment. The beginnings of renewed arousal bubbled deep inside him and he knew Rose felt the evidence of it.

“Mr. Impressive,” she whispered, rolling her hips slowly against him.

He exhaled raggedly. “You make me feel like a teenager again.”

“Good. It’s only fair since you make me feel like one, too.”

Though there was very little intent behind it, Rose kept her hips pressed firmly to his, nestling his partial erection against her. James enjoyed the pressure, too; it felt nice, especially when he or Rose shifted their hips a little bit.

“Do you want to do something with this?” Rose mumbled when he let out a quiet, involuntary groan.

“Nah, it’ll be fine,” he answered, breathless. “I’m not even properly hard. It just… God, it feels so good, love.”

“I’m glad. It feels really nice for me, too. Can we stay like this forever?”

“Absolutely.”

She tilted her head up, and he ducked his head down, knowing what she wanted. Their lips met in a gentle kiss. Their mouths parted and met again and again, sharing dozens of little kisses that conveyed all of the love and comfort and happiness they felt.

But all too soon, the sound of whimpers invaded the quiet, intense intimacy they created.

“If we pull the sheets over our head, they’ll stop, right?” James asked, tucking his face into the curtain of her hair.

“Definitely,” she replied, fumbling with their blankets to haul them up over their shoulders and heads.

James giggled in the stuffy darkness; Rose echoed the noise. Unfortunately, the soft cries grew louder and more insistent.

“You’re all right, baby,” Rose cooed. “You’re all right. Sleep. Just sleep. Daddy and I are right here.”

Silence greeted them, then a quieter whimper.

“Sleep, baby girl,” Rose coaxed. “Just sleep.”

“It’s bedtime, darling,” James crooned. “Time for dreaming about all the pleasant little things in your pleasant little life.”

The baby let out a whine and a few coos before she quieted down.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Rose said into the darkness.

“Bet you anything that was Maddie.”

“Not taking that bet,” Rose snorted.

James pulled the sheet off their heads and draped it over their shoulders as they resumed their cuddle. Rose rested her hands at the small of his back, tucking her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers while he drew long, broad lines up and down her spine.

“D’you ever get hit out of the blue by how much you love me?” Rose slurred, sounding half-asleep.

“All the time.”

“Good,” she murmured. “‘Cos that’s happening to me right now. I love you so much, James.”

James beamed into her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her neck, making her shiver. He did it again to see if he could make her moan. She did, and then retaliated by rubbing herself firmly against his partial erection.

He scraped his day-old stubble across her neck, delighting in the full-body shudder she let out. She tightened her grip around him, one of her hands flying to the back of his neck to hold him where he was.

“Like that, do you?” he purred, repeating the motion.

“Wanker.”

She fisted his hair in her hand, and pleasure sparked across his scalp when she began to massage her fingers through his hair.

They continued their teasing touches for many long minutes, playing a game of trying to pull a reaction from the other until it was no longer a game. Their lower halves tangled together restlessly, unconsciously writhing and thrusting together until Rose buried her face into the crook of his neck and ground herself hard against him.

“Shit,” she squeaked. Her back bowed and her hips jumped clumsily through her release.

James muffled his moan into his pillow. “K-Keep moving like that. Please, Rose. Oh, God.”

He had become more aroused than he’d thought, and listening to Rose panting and grunting in his ear hurtled him toward an edge he hadn’t realized he was at. His balls drew up close to his body and he inhaled sharply as his pleasure mounted.

“Come for me,” Rose whispered, her hot breath tickling his ear.

He shuddered and grabbed her hips, arching against her once… twice…

“Rose,” he rasped as his cock spurted messily into his pants for the second time that night. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but the love and pleasure that threatened to drown him. But what a marvelous death it was. La petite mort indeed.

When his head stopped spinning, he opened his eyes to see Rose grinning guiltily up at him. He smiled stupidly at her in return, then started giggling. She echoed the sound, and soon they were laughing madly into each other’s shoulders, trying to keep quiet enough to not wake a baby.

“I can’t believe we did that,” Rose gasped.

“I can’t believe I ruined two sets of boxers in one night.”

“That was amazing,” she sighed, nuzzling close to him. “My God, I’ve missed this. To hell with having more babies if it means I can’t make love with you for six weeks afterward.”

James grinned and kissed her deeply. She groaned against his lips and when they popped apart, she chastised, “You’re gonna make me all hot and bothered for a third round!”

“Problem with that?” he asked sweetly.

Rose smacked his shoulder lightly, but hauled him in for another kiss.

Their kisses, though heated at first, cooled to sweet, soothing little presses of lips on lips. They became drowsy in their afterglow, drowsy enough that neither of them could quite manage to get out of bed to clean up again.

They fell into a deep sleep, still twined together.

When James awoke the next morning to gray light streaming through the window, he was surprised that he and Rose were alone. He peeked behind himself, then over Rose’s shoulder, but no, Sianin wasn’t in bed with them.

He carefully extracted the arm that was beneath Rose’s neck. It was utterly numb. He flexed his hand to get the blood flowing again, and hissed as pins and needles set in.

“All right?” Rose opened her eyes, blinking blearily at him. “What time is it?”

James squinted at the clock on the wall. “Nearly six.”

“Six?” Rose repeated dumbly, then she pushed away from him and scrambled out of bed.

Frowning, James sat up and rubbed at his eyes. When he saw her making a beeline for the bassinets, he realized the babies hadn’t woken in the middle of the night. A band of anxiety squeezed his chest, but loosened when he saw Rose’s shoulder’s slump in relief.

“I hate the first time they sleep through the night,” she grumbled, kneading the heel of her hand into her forehead. “It always scares me half to death.”

“Me too,” James said. “I assume they’re not dead?”

Rose stuck her tongue out at him, then reached into the cots to pick up the babies before settling into the rocking chair to nurse them.

“I’m gonna shower,” James said, realizing with a grimace he was still in his soiled boxers from the night before.

“M’kay,” Rose said, rocking gently as the twins nursed. “Love you.”

“Love you,” he replied. He strolled up beside her to press a kiss to her upturned face, then to the loo for a shower.

oOoOo

James walked Maddie around the car to where Rose was strapping Hannah into the twin pram. He placed the baby next to her sister, then locked the car once Rose had the baby bag out of the back.

Rose wrapped her arm loosely around his waist as he began pushing the pram towards the hospital.

“I’ll get them checked in, you can go sit,” Rose said, pushing him towards a row of empty seats in the waiting area.

James nodded and saved a seat for Rose while she signed in.

“How precious!”

James turned and saw a heavily-pregnant woman toddling towards him.

“How old are they?” the woman asked, peering into the buggy while making cooing noises.

“A month,” he answered.

“They’re adorable,” she sighed, rubbing her belly.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling genuinely. His babies really were adorable. He reached in and played with Maddie’s foot, bopping it up and down. It resulted in a huge grin—not that he was trying to show off his baby…

“Oh! She’s smiling already?” the woman gasped, grinning down at Maddie.

“Yep,” he said, puffing up slightly as though he himself were responsible for his baby smiling so young.

“She’s beautiful,” the woman said, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Are they identical?”

“Yep,” he said, nodding. Then he jerked his head at her huge stomach. “When are you due?”

“Last weekend,” she said with a grimace. “I’m hoping they’ll induce me soon. Or just cut him out. I’m tired of being pregnant. He’s my fourth. Bit of an uh-oh baby, but my husband and I are excited nevertheless.”

“These are our third and fourth as well,” James said.

“Are you here by yourself?” the woman asked sympathetically.

“No, my wife’s right over there.” He pointed to Rose, who at that moment caught his eye and beamed at him. He smiled and waved.

“Wow, she looks amazing!” the woman said. “I’m so jealous. And after giving birth to twins, no less! Wow.”

“Yeah, she’s incredible,” James said proudly.

A name was called by a far-off voice, and the woman looked away.

“Oh, that’s me. It was nice meeting you!”

“You too,” he said politely. “Good luck with your little one.”

“Thanks!” she said brightly, then she cooed one more time at the twins before waddling away.

“Make a new best friend, did you?”

Rose elbowed him lightly as she plopped down beside him.

“Pfft, no one can replace you as my best friend,” he said, elbowing her back. “She wanted to see the twins. They are the world’s cutest babies, after all.”

“Oh, really?” Rose drawled.

“Absolutely. No competition. I know all parents think their child is the cutest, but really, ours are the cutest children.”

Rose laughed at him and patted his arm reassuringly before she hugged it to her chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder to wait for the twins to be called back. They spent the next few minutes talking quietly to each other, debating what to make for dinner, their weekend plans, and a hypothetical discussion about what their lives might be like if they’d grown up in a different time period.

James was just describing how sexy she would look in a Victorian ball gown—making Rose’s cheeks and neck redden—when a nurse called their name.

“Later,” he purred into her ear before standing.

Following the nurse, he pushed the pram down the hall and into a sterile-smelling room that had farm animal wallpaper prints. The nurse efficiently gathered the twins’ measurements before leaving them alone, saying Elizabeth would soon be in to see them.

“Getting back to what I was saying, I think you would look positively irresistible in a ball gown. Especially if it pushed up your cleavage.”

“But back then, cleavage wasn’t that big of a deal,” Rose argued. “Now if I showed you my ankles…”

“Rose Tyler-McCrimmon, I’m scandalized!” he gasped theatrically, slapping a hand over his heart. “How dare you tease your poor, sexually-frustrated soulmate! He would have been doing everything he could to try and keep your virtue and innocence intact, and there you are, practically naked! An ankle! My goodness.”

Rose cackled out a laugh, which made him break into peals of giggles.

“It sounds like everyone is doing well in here.”

Their laughter cut off abruptly as Elizabeth stepped into the room. They hadn’t heard her knock.

“Yeah, we’re great,” Rose answered, her cheeks pink from her happiness.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Elizabeth said warmly. Then she stepped up to the baby buggy and cooed, “And how are you two sweethearts doing?” She returned her attention to James and Rose. “Can you lift them out for me?”

James and Rose each retrieved a twin, and, one at a time, Elizabeth performed the usual tests and checks.

“Are there any questions or concerns you have?”

“Actually, yeah,” Rose said. “Maddie doesn’t cry as much as Hannah. She whimpers a bit, but she very rarely goes into a wailing fit. Maddie seems… lethargic. She sleeps way more than Hannah does. It’s got me and James a little worried, because if it weren’t for Hannah making a fuss whenever she wanted something, we wouldn’t know that Maddie wanted anything.”

Elizabeth glanced over at the baby in Rose’s arms. Maddie was sucking contentedly on her dummy, safe and warm in her mother’s embrace. Elizabeth watched the baby quietly for a few minutes, poking and prodding every now and then. The baby flashed small smiles here and there, making Elizabeth beam right back.

“She appears to be a perfectly normal, perfectly healthy one-month-old baby,” Elizabeth said with a small shrug. “There could be a couple different explanations for her apparent lethargy. Firstly, she might simply be an easy, content baby. Secondly, Hannah might be beating her to the punch with crying for her needs. If Maddie weren’t a twin, she might be vocal, but has no need to when her sister cries before she gets uncomfortable.

“Thirdly, and I don’t think this is the case, there might be a legitimate medical problem. Visibly, she looks as healthy as any one-month-old baby. She’s not showing any signs that has me concerned that something is wrong, but keep an eye on her. If she’s still showing concerning behaviors in a couple months, we’ll run some metabolic activity tests on her. And obviously bring her in straight away if she develops new symptoms.”

Rose nodded, and reached over to run her fingertip across Maddie’s hand. Maddie flexed her fingers, and Rose let the baby clamp onto her finger.

“Any other problems?” Elizabeth asked.

Rose looked over at James, then back to Elizabeth. “Our six-year-old, Sianin, still doesn’t seem adjusted to the twins. She doesn’t really interact with them, unless her big sister is. She struggles to find nice things to say about them. I want her to bond with the babies, but I don’t want to force them on her if they’re truly making her so upset.”

Elizabeth frowned pensively for a moment. “Is she aggressive with them? Hitting them? Throwing things at them?”

“Oh, God no!” Rose said, horrified. “No, nothing like that. She’s extremely gentle with them, but it’s like she just… tolerates them being in the house rather than accepting that they’re a part of the family.”

Elizabeth relaxed. “Good. That’s good. As much as you might not like to hear it, this is a normal reaction to a child getting a younger sibling. Let alone two younger siblings. Sianin has been the baby of the family her whole life, but that position has now been usurped from her. She doesn’t need to love the twins, she just needs to tolerate them. And it seems like she does. The love will come in its own time, in its own way.”

She rooted around in the file folder on the desk before pulling out a pamphlet. “But if you become truly worried about Sianin, here is an excellent child psychologist service you can take her to. There are several people there who specialize in treating children and family matters. I honestly don’t think there is anything to be concerned about, but it’s ultimately your call. If Sianin’s behavior begins to deteriorate or if you’re concerned she’s going to hurt the twins or if you simply have a gut feeling, make her an appointment. But the best thing you can do it be there for her. Be patient and supportive. Let her help with the babies when she wants to, but don’t chastise her when she doesn’t. And be sure to praise her when she interacts positively with them.”

James took the pamphlet from Elizabeth, skimming the details on the front of it before he tucked it inside the baby bag.

“Well, we’ve discussed the twins and Sianin. How’s your eldest?”

“Ainsley’s great,” James and Rose said together.

“She wants to help all the time,” James said proudly.

“That’s wonderful,” Elizabeth said. “And you? How are you doing, Rose? Any emotional difficulties? You had a bit of trouble after Sianin’s birth, as I recall. And with how long you were trying to conceive, it’s not uncommon to feel overwhelmed or sad or…”

“No,” Rose interrupted. “No, I feel absolutely fantastic. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly. “That’s excellent to hear. And physically? Do you still have postpartum bleeding?”

“Nope, that’s been done for… what, a week?” Rose turned to look at James for confirmation, and he nodded. “Yeah, I feel perfectly normal.”

“As great as that is to hear, remember you might not be fully healed internally yet,” Elizabeth said, “so you need to refrain from sexual intercourse for another couple of weeks.”

Unbidden, James’s cheeks heated at the very frank decree over their sex life, and at the memory of what they’d done together on the couch and in bed a few nights ago. He caught Rose’s gaze out of the corner of his eye and saw her cheeks had pinkened a bit too.

Noticing their somewhat guilty expressions, Elizabeth frowned deeply at them.

“You are abstaining from sex, right?” she asked flatly, pinning them both with a hard stare that made James want to dissolve on the spot.

“Yeah,” Rose said quickly. “’Course we are. Er. Well. We’re abstaining from, er, intercourse, that is.”

“What activity have you partaken in, exactly?”

“There hasn’t been any penetration,” Rose mumbled. She glanced over at James apologetically. “Not even… fingers. Just a bit of…er, grinding. Rubbing.”

James was actually going to die. His cheeks were hot enough to fry an egg, and he would give anything to be able to teleport home.

Elizabeth’s stern expression relaxed a degree. “That’s acceptable. Birth leaves a raw, gaping wound inside the woman, as you both well enough know, and it’s not good for any external objects that might be carrying bacteria to be introduced. It takes four to eight weeks for that wound to heal.”

“If it’s four, I’m good to go, yeah?” Rose asked.

Elizabeth grinned to herself. “In theory. Since you seem so eager, I’ll schedule an appointment for you to possibly give you the green light to resume your sexual activities as normal.”

Again, James thought he might die of mortification, but a larger part of him was relieved that the end was in sight. He was dying to make love with his wife properly again.

Rose reached over for his hand. Sorry, she mouthed sheepishly.

He smiled and squeezed her fingers.

“I’ve got a slot next Thursday morning,” Elizabeth said. “It isn’t quite six weeks since you gave birth, but…”

“I’ll take it,” she said. “Thanks so much.”

“Right, so that leaves you, James.”

He frowned.

“Any issues on your end?” Elizabeth asked. “Emotionally? Physically? Are you back at work yet?”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “On all counts, no. I feel fantastic. I’m incredibly happy. And I’m fortunate enough to not have to go back to work for another couple of months. Everything’s brilliant.”

“Excellent,” Elizabeth said. “Very excellent. Right. I’ve done everything I need to do. These two little beauties are perfectly healthy and on-track developmentally. Are there any final questions you have for me?”

When James and Rose shook their heads, Elizabeth walked them back to the front office. Elizabeth’s services regarding baby checkups only went out to the first month; after that, they would need to see a pediatrician. The doctor that James and Rose took Ainsley and Sianin to was a sister hospital to the birth center, so it was a very simple matter of sending all of the records to the new hospital, adding to the existing Tyler-McCrimmon file.

With a confirmation of Rose’s six-week exam and the proof of the twins’ records transfer, James and Rose walked back to their car. When the twins were buckled in, Rose said, “I’m sorry that got a little awkward... with Elizabeth asking about our sex life.”

“No worries,” he said, even as he felt the lingering embarrassment. “As awkward as it might have been, it’s an important thing to check with your doctor about. I’d rather be told we need to wait longer to have sex because your body isn’t ready for it, than to go ahead and shag anyway and possibly risk an infection or pain for you.”

“You are probably one of the only blokes on the planet who is so sweet about the six-week post-birth sex wait,” Rose said, skipping up to him to kiss his cheek.

“You really lucked out with me,” he preened.

“Aaaand you’ve ruined the moment,” Rose said, pinching his waist.

He stuck his tongue out, then they slid into the car and he drove them home.

If you’ve read to the end, consider leaving a comment or reblogging? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #soulmates #soulmates au #james x rose #kid fic #baby fic #family fic #romance #my fic #soulmates verse #perfectly matched series #family of six #lemons

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alice1290 · 5 years

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Read All About It - An Ace/OC fanfic - Chapter 6

Strolling hand in hand down the streets of Fishman Island made it almost feel as if they were a normal couple, not a pirate captain and a Revolutionary.

“So, my partner gave me a good nickname.”

“Better than missus?” Ace teased.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. He called me the Revolutionary Spade. Really the Red-haired Revolutionary Spade, but that’s a bit much.”

“Eh, too long for a bounty poster. Revolutionary Spade is better.”

Ashina shot him a playful glare. “I’m still trying to not obtain one of those.”

“Sorry, missus,” he teased, gently bumping her shoulder. “with me you’ll end up with one in no time. Just wait ‘til Isuka knows your name: Ashina the Revolutionary Spade.”

“Ugh, at least with Missus they don’t know my real name.”

Ace laughed and let go of her hand, only to loop his arm over her shoulders and pull her closer. “I’m hungry,” he said, catching the smell of food in the air. “Let’s get some food.”

When he spotted the ramen shop, he remembered it being one of her favorite foods, so he dragged her inside with him. The menu was small, but the place smelled amazing.

They ordered and true to her normal self, Ashina only ate one bowl. It was a large bowl, but still, Ace wondered if she ate enough sometimes.

“Are you sure you’re full?” he asked, swallowing a mouthful of noodles and meat.

She giggled. “Yes, Ace. Are you? That’s your eighth bowl.”

“Almost.”

Ashina giggled again, propping her head up on her fist, elbow resting on the bartop. “You really are a bottomless pit.”

As soon as he was finished Ace grabbed her hand and strolled out of the restaurant.

“Ace, what are you-”

They made it a few paces down the street with the store owner shouted.

“Stop them! They haven’t paid.”

“Come on!” Ace shouted, breaking out in a run.

Ashina kept pace with him, grumbling at him for his dine and dash antics. By the time they outran the people chasing them, and were officially lost someone on the island, she was laughing. They came to a stop and Ashina bent over, hands on her knees, as she tried to catch her breath between laughter.

“What the hell, Ace, I could have paid.”

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a habit.”

She rolled her eyes as he shrugged. Ashina looked around as she stood straight. “Why don’t we find our way back to the market and then to the ship. The log pose should be set soon.”

Ace grinned. “Let’s go.”

It was easy to find their way back to the heart of the city by the noise of the crowd. Ace stayed close to her as they weaved their way through fishmen, merfolk, and other humans. His hand occasionally touched the small of her back, directing her one way or another since he could see over the crowd better than her.

“Thanks to you and all that running, now I want a snack,” she commented.

“You should have eaten more ramen.”

“I was full then!”

Ace just laughed, but his eyes scanned the streets around them. He pointed to the left and grinned. “There’s a takoyaki stand over there.”

“Oo!” she squealed with excitement and took his hand, dragging him behind her through the crowd. “Hurry up, Ace.”

They reached the stand and Ashina looked over the selection. “I’ll take one regular and one spicy, please.”

The fishman behind the stand expertly flipped four of the regular little balls into a cup and handed it to her before doing to the same from the pile of spicy takoyaki. Ashina handed Ace the spicy one and then dug out the requested amount of beri from her pouch. Once she paid, she looped her free arm through his and they started walking again.

She dropped his arm once they were clear of the crowd, and popped one of the little balls into her mouth. She hummed in satisfaction. “That’s yummy. Ramen and takoyaki, we’re going to make our way back to Fishman Island one day, just for the food. By the way, you never did say what the fight with Draw was about.”

Ace scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair. “Oh, well… uh… he offered me a position as a Shichibukai, and I said no.”

“He did what?” Ashina stopped walking and stared at Ace with wide, surprised eyes. “Wait, you said no?”

“The Shichibukai work for the World Government, and I don’t want to answer to them. I’m a pirate, not a marine’s dog.” Ace looped his arm back around her waist and pulled her closer. “Come on,” he said, starting to walk again.

Ashina smiled as she fell into step with his pace. “They won’t like that you turned down their offer.”

“Draw didn’t. He did say he doesn’t like the idea of the Shichibukai either, but he got mad I rejected the offer. He set fire to some buildings and risked some people’s lives just to push my buttons. He pissed me off, and we started fighting.”

Ashina grinned as they reached the ship. “Your bounty is going to increase because of that, you know that, right?”

“That’s a good thing.” He gave her a big grin making Ashina laugh.

“Let’s go, Fire Fist.”

“So, Captain, where are we headed now?” Saber asked as the rest of the crew gathered on the deck of the Spadille.

The question caught Ashina’s attention and she looked up from the book in her hand. Ace grinned at the crew. “I’m going to find the man who saved my brother’s life when he was a little kid. Luffy used to talk all the time about Red-haired Shanks, so I’m going to find him and thank him.”

Ashina felt the blood drain from her face. Ace had never asked about her parents, and she’d never volunteered the information. In all of their late-night conversations, after the moments that shared Ace’s admittance that Gol D Roger was his father, they didn’t talk about it. Ace knew he mother was gone and that he father was somewhere out in the world, but… now it felt like she was going to have to come clean.

“Rumor I heard in the market is that he’s on a winter island,” Saber said.

Ace nodded. “We’ll go there first and see where the journey takes us. When I finally encounter Whitebeard, I’ll prove I’m going to be King of the Pirates.”

“Um… Ace,” Ashina began, getting to her feet. “I feel like now might be a good time to mention something.”

“What?” he asked, clearly confused. “I know you don’t like the cold, but-”

She cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand and blurted, “Red-haired Shanks is my father.”

Deuce and Saber’s eyes practically popped out of their heads and Banshee gave an unlady-like curse. Mihar and Skull shared a chuckle. Ace stared at her.

“What?” Ace managed to stammer out.

“Red-haired Shanks is my father,” she repeated.

“Oh. Well…” He looked unsure of what to say next as he shuffled his feet.

“It’s okay!” Ashina blurted reassuringly. Ace, I love my Papa. He’ll be surprised to see me I’m sure, since the last time he saw me he was leaving me on the doorstep of the Revolutionary Army. It’s been five years, I’d like to see him.”

Ace beamed and pulled her in for a hug, keeping an arm around her waist and close to his side as he turned to face the crew. “Set sail, men!”

Ace gave orders as Ashina stood beside him and the crew scurried around the deck as they set sail out from Fishman Island, preparing to enter the New World. Her first adventure on the second half of the Grand Line and she was going to see her father.

“Hey, Ace?”

“Huh?” He stopped giving orders and looked down at her.

“It might be a good idea to notlet my father know we’re a thing. I’d hate for him to kill you.”

Ace frowned, but nodded, agreeing to her suggestion.

“How’re we going to find him? Which island do we travel to?” Deuce asked, stopping beside them.

“Oh!” Ashina exclaimed, slipping a hand into her pouch. “I have the solution for that.” She withdrew the slip of blank paper. “I have his vivre card.”

“Can you use your Haki to tell where they are?” Ace asked.

He was standing close behind her, keeping her warm with his internal fire. “I could, but the vivre card will lead us to him.”

She shivered and Ace pulled her closer, keeping an arm wrapped around her front. It wasn’t snowing right now, but the cold, biting wind was relentless. “Let’s get moving then.”

It wasn’t long into their trek that the snow began. The further into the snowy mountains they walked, the harder the wind blew and the more snow fell.

“The snow storm is getting worse. Even with your extra heat,” Mihar commented.

“We’ll keep going until we find them.”

“Are you serious, Captain?” Saber yelled.

“I want to meet him. We keep going no matter what.”

Ashina just shook her head, trudging through the freezing snow behind Ace. Being near him was slightly warmer than the surrounding temperature, but that would end as soon as they reached her father. She didn’t want to give him any ideas that Ace and her were in fact lovers, mainly because she preferred her lover alive. It was late as they neared the cave opening and the sound of voices and smell of wood smoke reached them.

She already dreaded the idea of having to sleep through the night not curled up to Ace. Ashina fell back into the mix of the crew as they reached the mouth of the cave, suddenly nervous to see her father again. Deuce picked up on her actions, and stepped to the left, effectively blocking her from view.

“Who goes there?” One of the Red-Haired Pirates yelled out, Ashina recognized Yassop’s voice.

“I’m Captain Portgas D Ace of the Spade Pirates.”

“So,” a voice Ashina instantly recognized as her father’s answered. “The Spade Pirates? The famous Super Rookies… have come for me?” The slick of his sword being partially withdrawn echoed in the quiet cave.

“No, no that’s not what I’m here for,” Ace said quickly, shaking his hands in front of him. “My little brother owes you his life and he never stopped talking about you growing up! I just wanted to meet you and say thanks.”

“You mean Luffy?” Shanks replied excitedly, letting his sword fall back into its sheath. “I never knew he had a brother! I see. I’m glad you came. Please tell me more.”

“Oh, sure,” Ace hesitated and looked behind him, eyes scanning his crew, before he turned back to the Yonko. “but I brought another surprise.”

Ace turned sideways, looking back at Ashina, who was still partially hidden by Deuce, and she took a breath before stepping forward. Shanks took her in and his eyes widened as his smile grew bigger.

“Hi, Papa.” She gave him a small smile and a little wave.

“My baby girl!” Shanks jumped up.

“She ain’t a baby no more,” one of the men near the back of the cave said, earning a glare from Shanks before he turned his attention back to Ashina.

Shanks swept her up with his one arm, easily lifting her off her feet. All the worry and nerves left her instantly as she relaxed into the strong, loving embrace of her father. She returned the hug just as fiercely, burying her face in the collar of his shirt to inhale the familiar scent of ocean, sweat, booze, and something distinctly Shanks. She pressed a kiss to his cheek as he set her back on her feet.

“What are you doing in the New World with pirates?” he questioned, a teasing grin on his face. “I dropped you with the Revolutionary Army, not Rookie pirates.”

Ashina shrugged. “Got separated on a mission for Dragon. Orders were to stay with the Spades for now. Maybe he wants to see what’s happening on this side of the world? Who knows?” She skirted around the real truth that Dragon gave her a choice and she chose to stay with Ace… for a multitude of reasons.

Shanks seemed to accept her answer and nodded, but turned a hard gaze to Ace. “Keep an eye on my daughter, Rookie.”

Ace nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

Shanks grinned then and spun around to his men. “Let’s have a party!”

This was awful. The idea of Ashina not sleeping beside him, curled into his warmth as she did every night never crossed his mind. Every night she lay in his arms, but not this one, and he felt a fool for not understanding sooner what she meant when she said to not let her father know they were a thing. All night she avoided being near him, because when they were near, they gravitated closer and always wound up touching.

Of course, her sleeping with him would clue her father in to the truth of their relationship. A truth he wasn’t sure he wanted to face the consequences for, because there would be consequences. One arm or not, Shanks was still a powerful Yonko, and Ace wasn’t wishing to test the man’s ability.

Ace glanced across the room and spotted those green orbs in the dying light of the fire. Ashina couldn’t sleep either. They stared at each other across the cave, neither speaking for fear of waking the others. Ace watched as she silently sat up and then stood. She made no sound as she tiptoed her way gracefully around the sleeping bodies of two pirate crews, keeping her blanket hugged tight to her shoulders. She folded herself gracefully down to the ground, and he scowled at her, even as he lifted his own blanket for her to slide in beside him.

Ashina hummed softly in her throat as she pressed her back against his chest. He amped up his internal temperate and she hummed softly again. Ace pressed his lips into her hair as he slipped a hand around her waist to pull her impossibly closer.

“What happened to not letting him know we’re together?” Ace asked softly, a teasing lilt to his voice.

He felt her shrug one shoulder. “It’s cold and I can’t sleep without you.”

“Your father is going to kill me in the morning. You know that, right?” he whispered in her ear.

She turned in his embrace to face him and dipped her head below his. Her lips pressed against the hollow of his throat. “Maybe, but it will be worth the warm night of sleep.”

He could feel the smile on her lips and huffed out a breath through his nose before pressing his lips to the top of her head. He couldn’t argue with her logic and he’d use any excuse to hold her slender frame against his.

The morning sun was beginning to rise and fill the cave with light when Shanks woke up. It took him a moment to remember it was real, but he quickly turned his head to look at his daughter. She was no longer on the mat she had fallen asleep on, and he frowned. He scanned the cave, scowling when he spotted her red hair.

“What you make o’ that, Captain?” Benn spoke quietly from beside him, already awake.

Shanks’ frown deepened as he studied the pair. They were lying facing each other and the curve and ripple of the blanket made it obvious the Rookies’ arm was curled tight around her waist, holding her close to his chest. His other arm pillowed her head. Her red hair was wild around them and the boy’s nose was buried in the wavy locks.

“I don’t like it, whatever it is.”

“You left her alone at fourteen with the Revolutionaries. Had to of known she’d grown up.”

Shanks sighed, unable to take his eyes away from his little girl, who was clearly no longer a little girl. “She’s growing up too soon. It shouldn’t be time for her to be doing…” he waved his hand at the sleeping pair. “things with boys.”

“Ace isn’t a boy, and she’s not a little girl anymore, Boss. At least she found a strong man.”

Shanks glared at Benn. “He’s still a Rookie… and I don’t have to like him, especially seeing as his hands are on my daughter… but he … he looks familiar,” Shanks trailed off, studying the sleeping Rookie.

“How so?”

Shanks shook his head. “What are the chances though?”

“Of what, Boss?” Benn asked, not following his captain’s random train of thought.

“I think he’s Roger’s kid,” Shanks breathed out.

Shanks stared hard at the dark mop of hair. It was dark and wavy like his former Captain’s had been. He’d caught glimpses of Roger’s ghost in Ace’s smile and eyes in firelight of the party. He’d also noticed the shared glances between him and Ashina. Shanks should have known they’d be together. He tried not to think too much on how they passed their time, he was more worried about her future. Being a pirate was dangerous, and the Rookie had big dreams. Ashina was smart, and strong, but a father worried for his daughter.

His only child. He knew she would remain secret no longer. Her secrecy was his only request to Dragon when he left her with the Revolutionary Army five years ago. Keep her secret, she’s already a skilled kunoichi like her mother, train her to be stronger, stealthier, help her remain unseen, unknown. With Ace, the Marines would soon learn of her, and there would be no mistaking who her father was. Shanks only hoped Ashina was ready for the dangers she would encounter here in the New World. He also hoped the young man, who he was positive was his captain’s son, would be strong enough to protect himself and her.

“Where’s Papa?” Ashina asked, looking around the cave in the early morning light.

“Went outside since the snow storm calmed,” Benn answered. He gave her a knowing look. “Was wanting to speak to you.”

Ashina frowned slightly but nodded. She pulled her fur cloak tighter around her shoulders and headed out of the mouth of the cave. He wasn’t far from the entrance, perched on a snow-covered boulder near one of the only, scraggly evergreen trees that stood near the cave. He looked up as she walked over, but did not speak. She hopped up onto the rock and leaned into his side. She still found it strange sometimes that he was missing his left arm. She remembered when it was still there and the year he had returned and it was gone.

“The Rookie’s Devil Fruit seems to have lessened the snow storm,” Shanks commented, breaking the silence.

“He’s strong.”

Shanks snorted. “He’s young and reckless.”

“Weren’t you young and reckless once?”

Shanks grinned at her. “You callin’ your old man old?”

Ashina giggled and shook her head. “Never, Papa.” Ashina paused and then added. “Ace is strong and he’ll only get stronger.”

“Strength is good, Ashina, but it will bring danger.”

“I’m not afraid,” she stated with confidence.

Shanks kissed the top of her head. “Of course you’re not. You’re your mother’s daughter after all. You look like her more and more each time I see you, Ashina.”

He was quiet for a moment and they both watched the softly falling snow. “I wasn’t much older than you when you were born.”

“Papa…” Ashina cut in, hoping he wasn’t going there. Her mother gave her the embarrassing sex talk, and she didn’t really want to hear her father stumble through it.

“I want you to be careful, Ashina.”

“We are careful, Papa.”

“We? So you are having sex with the Rookie?” Shanks leaned back, his eyes narrowed and his cheeks slightly red with anger.

Ashina waved a dismissive hand. “He’s not my first, Papa.”

Shanks waved his hands in front of him and shouted. “I don’t want to know this about my baby girl! Now I have two boys to murder. It is just two, yes?”

“Papa!” Ashina felt her cheeks burn from her blush. He wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t going to admit that either.

Shanks smiled good naturedly and bumped his shoulder to hers. “Please be careful, Ashina. You have big dreams. I hope you still have those dreams. Don’t let them go because of a boy.”

“I still want to change the world, Papa, and I can still do that being a Spade pirate. But… you know, I didn’t stop your dreams.”

Shanks sighed. “I wasn’t a good father either.”

Ashina frowned and took his hand in hers. “Of course you were, you are, Papa. Just because you weren’t there all the time doesn’t mean you were a bad father. You’re a pirate Papa, I learned what that meant and how much it meant to you. A pirate drop anchor in one place? Papa you’d be bored out of your mind,” she said on a giggle, making him smile. She paused for a beat and then added softly. “I don’t plan on babies, Papa.”

“Things happen, Ashina.”

“Well, fuck, Papa don’t jinx me! Jeez. We’re careful. I’m careful. I promise.”

“Good. I want you to be happy. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to wring the Rookie’s neck for touching my daughter.”

Ashina giggled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I think you’re allowed to feel that way, just please don’t act on it.” She rested her head on his shoulder and he squeezed her hand.

“I love you, Papa.”

“Love you, Baby Girl.”

Shanks wasn’t ready to tell Ashina goodbye as they stood next to the Spadille in the late morning sun. Growing up, he’d made it happen where he could see her once a year, with the exception of a few times where it just didn’t work, for a few days. Then she’d traveled with him for a year before he dropped her with the Revolutionary Army on Baltigo. That was five years ago. She was nineteen now, a young woman in her own right, but she would always be his little girl. It worried him that he didn’t know when he’d see her again. Not to mention the lurking, deaded thought of ifand not when.

“Stay safe,” he whispered, pulling her into a hug.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “I will, Papa. You be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me, baby girl.” he said to her, keeping her held tightly to his chest. “Keep up your training, okay?”

Ashina nodded.

“Good. I won’t have to worry too much then. Until next time, baby girl.” Shanks kissed the top of her head and then let her go.

Ashina stepped back, and then lunged forward to hug her father once more before turning to board the Spadille.

“Ace, a word.”

Ace stopped in his tracks, nodding to Ashina to go ahead, and turned back to Shanks.

“I know you and my daughter are… together. Break her heart and you’re going to join the one-arm club, and if she gets hurt, or worse, I’m going to kill you, got it, Rookie?” Shanks asked Ace in a low voice giving him a deadly stare.

“Got it.”

“Good.” Shanks stepped back, clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at Ace. “Safe travels.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks. It was nice to meet you, Shanks.”

Ace turned on a dime and quickly boarded the ship.

Shanks waved goodbye to Ashina, who stood at the rail of the ship, waving back to him. Ace gave the orders for the crew to set sail, and Shanks watched as he came to stand beside Ashina, an arm looping around her waist.

Benn chuckled from beside him. “You’re maturing as you age, Captain. I half expected you to not let her go with the Rookie.”

Shanks laughed, but then sobered, eyes watching the ship was the sails unfurled and she picked up speed, carrying his daughter away from him once more. “Eh. As much as I’d like to castrate the boy for being with my daughter, I can’t hold her back. Tsuna would never forgive me for not letting our girl chase her dreams and be free.”

#Portgas D. Ace #fire fist ace #one piece #one piece fanfiction #fanfic #original female character #oc #Akagami no Shanks #shanks #Spade Pirates #red hair pirates #Ashina #Read All About It #my writing

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themoonandotherslikeit · 5 years

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The Hand That Reaches for God- Chapter 6

***Sometimes staying away is the easiest move. Keeping a safe distance, especially for Emerson and Dean Winchester. So, when the Maklen twins come home again, they don’t anticipate the feelings that Emerson will get having to see him again. When tragedy strikes, the Winchester brothers and the Maklen twins are forced to face, not only their feelings, but each other. In a story about pain, family, abandonment, and desire, the couples have to decide if survival, without love, is enough.***

Warnings: Angst, violence, death, mutual pinning, age difference, language, abuse, eventual smut.

Chapter Six

“I do not need someone to complete me. But if you wanted to, we could walk next to each other into whatever is coming next.” –Meghan Lynn

-1 Week After-

Emerson sat in the shower. Her knees were pressed to her chest as she let the warm water run over her. Her hair was matted to her head and her forehead rested on her knees. They’d been in the Winchester’s basement for a week, with no sign of life anywhere. No one had come knocking. The phones were all dead. No radio signal. They were on a backup generator at the house. Emerson slept every night on the couch, staring at the ceiling until sleep finally caught up to her.

When it did, all she had was nightmares.

Pheli would reach up from her pallet on the floor and grip her sister’s hand. They slept close together like the always had, but this time Sam’s large body curled around protectively around Pheli as she slept. Most of the time she woke up bright and shiny as ever, which was probably the only reason Emerson hadn’t had a complete breakdown yet. How could she when her sister was singing show tunes?

Emerson turned her face into the stream of water, letting it wash over her. It rained every day since the explosion. Red and hot like the first time. Sometimes she would lie on the couch and listen to the rain, and pretend it was a summer night. She pretended it was the time before.

She reached forward and turned off the water. The immediate chill from the house covered her damp skin, causing her hair to stand on end. She let herself rise on shaky legs, and towel off. She twisted her blonde hair up in the towel and stepped into Dean’s robe, closing it around herself. She took a deep breath of the scent. It smelled like this body wash. It was so much harder to ignore him when they were living under the same roof, but she was trying. Especially now that their immediate sense of danger was muted.

She wiped away the fog on the mirror, and was assaulted with her own reflection. A set of dark, tired eyes. She leaned forward and let the heat of her breath steam up the mirror again. It was just another place to hide. It was just another mask.

She went out into the living room to get her clothes. She pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “Is that mine?” Dean asked, leaning against the wall. He gestured to the AC/DC shirt that was curled in her fingers that was indeed his.

“Guess so.” She said, tossing it up to him. “This place is a pig sty. No wonder some of our stuff is getting mixed.”

“Keep it.” He tossed it back to her gently.

She caught it in one hand and unconsciously pulled it to her chest. “Fine, but only because I don’t hardly have any clothes here.”

“Mhm.”

“Where’s Phel and Sam?”

“Probably getting busy.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Gross.”

“Eh, carpe diem and all that.” He eyed her robe suggestively.

“Turn around, Winchester. You don’t get a free show.” She spun her finger and he complied. She untied the robe, lowering it to the floor. She watched his back tense as the sound of fabric landing hit his ears. If he turned toward her he would see everything, and it was a little paralyzing. She stepped into her shorts and slid his t-shirt over her bare skin, cutting the tension between them. “You’re good.” She whispered.

Dean turned back around cautiously, almost as if he expected to find her still standing there before him completely naked. He swallowed hard as he saw her. She removed the towel from her hair and ran her fingers through it.

“Dean.” She murmured, her eyes never leaving his.

“Yeah?”

“How long is this generator going to last?” The thought had been plaguing her mind every second since she woke up in his bed conscious again. How long did they have? The storms still raged outside, she could hear the angry booms of thunder and the insistent pattering of rain against the roof.

“I don’t know.” He admitted.

“What about your parents? What about our mom?” She knew she couldn’t ask Pheli’s opinion. She couldn’t take away her positive attitude, and if Sam and Dean were talking about it, they weren’t doing it in front of the girls.

“I don’t have the answers, Em. I’m sorry.” He said weakly. His chest ached. He wanted the answers. He was supposed to have them. He was the fucking soldier, after all. If he didn’t have them then who did? He sold a chunk of his life to a government that was going to let them boil alive under a blood red rain. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something, but instead he just let his blunt nails dig into his palm as he curled his fingers in on themselves. He tightened his fist as much as he could.

Emerson stepped toward him, and took his fist in her fingers. So much for avoiding him. “Don’t be sorry.” She whispered. “Hey, look at me.”

His eyes flickered up to hers.

“You don’t have to have all the answers.”

“Of course I do.”

-6 Years Before-

“Alright, the game is Bullshit.” Dean said, shuffling the cards. His cigarette hung out of his lips.

“I bet you’re great at that.” Emerson said smoothly.

They were laying in the backyard in the grass. Pheli’s head was on Sam’s lap, her toes in the grass.

“How do you play?” Pheli turned to look at Dean. Sam was placing dandelions in a braid on Ophelia’s hair.

Dean passed out cards to each of them. “So the game works like this.” He plucked two cards from his hand. “We go in order. Aces are low. I’ll say, I’ve got two ace’s.” He said, waving the two cards. He sat them face down with a bright smile.

“And then?” Phel asked, suspiciously.

“Bullshit.” Em said smoothly, her lips pursed.

“Well fuck me sideways.” Dean smirked, flipping over the cards. “You got it.” He had a queen and a king that he’d placed down. He took the cards back into his hand.

“So we just call you on your shit?” Ophelia asked with a grin.

“That’s the game.” He laughed.

“Been waiting my whole life for this.” Sam added with a laugh. “Let’s do it.”

Not all afternoons were like that, unfortunately.

“One three.”

“She’s got an honest face.” Sam smiled brightly, kissing Pheli.

Dean lit his cigarette and pulled the smoke in to his lunges. Emerson caught herself watching him. They were always looking at each other when the other was looking away.

“Two fours.”

“Bullshit, Sammy.” Dean let out a smoky laugh.

“Fuck you.”

Deans lip was busted and he had a cut right above his eye that was healing. They didn’t talk about it, but Emerson knew. She’d seen John through her window. He slammed Dean against his car. She didn’t know why he did it, but it didn’t matter. No one knew. No one but her, and it wasn’t her place to know. It wasn’t her place to say anything.

“Em, it’s your turn.” Pheli touched her sisters leg gently, trying to pull her out of her daze.

“Uh, sorry.” Her eyes met Deans, then flickered back to the cards in her hands. They looked blurry. “I’ve gotta go.” She stood up suddenly, dropping her cards in the grass.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it, Phel. I just… I forgot I have something I have to do.” She jogged back into the house, letting the back door shut behind her.

Not every day was like that. Not every day was calm and full of laughter. Her mom dropped a bottle of wine the night before. She said it was an accident, but Emerson wasn’t blind. Her hand just stopped working. She lost her grip and the entire bottle of merlot crashed to the ground. It was a sea of red covering the kitchen floor. Green tinted glass sat in the pools of red.

“Shit!” Jana exclaimed.

“Mom!”

“Emerson, honey, stay back. I dropped the wine.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She waived her hand.

She knew better. Her mother wasn’t fine, and she probably never would be again. It was the beginning of the end. “Let me help you clean this up.” She offered.

“No, I can do it myself.”

“I know you can… I just thought…”

“No, Emerson” She snapped her fingers weakly, pointing to the stairs. “Go make sure your sister is doing her homework. I’m fine here.”

Everything was falling apart, and Emerson didn’t think she could handle it anymore. She’d been so wrapped up in herself that she didn’t hear the door behind her open. “Em.” Dean said, his hand resting on her shoulder.

She flinched away from him. “God, why are you always sneaking up on me?”

“Sorry.” He moved his hand. “You just seemed upset.”

“I’m not.”

“Right.” He said, wiping a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “You can tell me.”

“I don’t want to.” She said, eyeing his healing lip. It’s you. On top of everything else, I’m worried about you.

“Okay.” He looked around before grabbing her hand. “C’mere.”

“Where are we going?” She asked as he pulled her out the front door and across her lawn.

“My place.”

“What?” She could feel her cheeks heating up. “Dean I…”

“It’s okay. It’ll help.”

She swallowed hard. She could feel her heartbeat behind her eyes as he unlocked his front door and pulled her inside. They walked down the stairs and into his bedroom. This is Dean Winchester’s bedroom! She wanted to look around, to take it all in, but she couldn’t because she was too fucking nervous.

He moved his hand from hers and held her face in his hands, brushing away any wetness that was left. “Stay right here.” He murmured.

She nodded. It was all she could do. Her mouth was so dry, she was afraid it would crumble if she tried to produce any string of words. He turned away from her and started digging in his drawers. She watched him. The way his back curved as he bent over, the way his jeans hugged his legs just enough. Her face was so hot, she worried she’d start sweating.

“This helps me.” He explained. “When the world is too fucking much.” He turned around, holding a glass figurine. It was an angel, pretty, and delicate.

“Are we going to… pray?” Her nerves were quickly replaced by confusion.

“No.” He laughed and placed the figurine in her palm. “Break it.” He said quietly, their hands still touching. “It’s therapeutic.”

“You want me to break this.”

“That’s what I said.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

Emerson held it in her hand, letting it catch the light of his bedroom before she curled her fingers around it. Destruction doesn’t solve anything. Pain breeds more pain. But yet, she really wanted to break something. She wanted to break John for hurting Dean. She wanted to rip apart the doctors that diagnosed her mother. Even though it wouldn’t change anything. She’d still be sick. She’d still be dying. The angel in her hand stared up at her, and it looked so pious she couldn’t help but pull it back and throw it against the wall as hard as she could.

She let out a yell as it crashed against the wall, exploding into a dozen pieces. There was something deeply satisfying about watching the pieces crash to the floor. It was different than the bottle of merlot. It was purposeful. Her body wasn’t failing her, it was helping. She grinned wildly, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Another one.” He said, opening his palm to reveal another angel.

She took it eagerly and threw it a bit harder. It bounced off the wall and hit the book shelf before exploding. The colorless glass sprayed out into the carpet, and even though it’d be a bitch to clean up, Dean offered her another, and another until she was weak at the knees.

He wrapped an arm around her, and lowered her to a seated position next to him on his bed. “I’ve got you.” He said, quietly.

She looked at her trembling hands. Hands that destroy. She curled her fingers in on themselves and looked up at Dean. “Thank you.” She whispered. “I’m not mad anymore.” She was just sad. She was heartbroken.

“You’re welcome.”

She reached up her finger and ran it over the cut on Dean’s lip. “Why didn’t you hit him back?”

Dean winced, but he didn’t back away from her. Maybe he suspected she knew the whole time. “Would you believe me if I said violence wasn’t the answer?”

Her eyes flickered to the glass shards covering his room, and the small dents on his wall from repeated throws. “Not even a little bit.”

He rubbed circles on her arm, looking off somewhere else. “ I guess I don’t want to lower myself to his level. I want to be better than him.”

“You are.” Emerson promised him. “You’ve always been better than him.”

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Not even Pheli? Sam doesn’t…”

“No.” She cut him off. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.” She stood up, moving out from under his arm, and she leaned down and pressed her lips to the cut above his eye. “If he’s ever coming after you, you can stay with me. If something happens to you I don’t think I could forgive myself.”

Dean stared at her, his mouth open slightly, before pressing his lips together in a line. He nodded. The realization that Emerson Maklen could care about him was dizzying. “Bullshit.” He whispered with a slight smile.

“What?”

“I said, bullshit. You could forgive yourself, because it wouldn’t be your fault. It’d be his. Don’t let other people’s mistakes sit on your shoulders. The only thing we can be responsible for is our own actions.”

“How about you practice what you preach, Winchester?”

He reached up and touched her cheek. “I’m trying.” He promised. “I’m really trying.”

-1 Week After-

Emerson ran her fingers along the dents in the wall of Dean’s bedroom where she’d thrown the figurines.

“What were you so upset about that day?”

She turned to look at him. “Mom’s MS was finally showing symptoms, and then I saw where John hit you and I just...”

“How’d you know, anyway?”

“I saw him. Outside of my window one night. It was horrible, Dean.”

“It was.” He said, between gritted teeth. “He was a marine, so he knew how to dish out a beating.” He laughed dryly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He said swiftly. “Plus. For all I know he’s already dead.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know what to believe.”

“Hey dorks!” Pheli asked, popping her head into Dean’s bedroom. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“Nope.” They both said at once, causing her eyebrow to quirk up.

“Uh huh. Sam and I were about to start an exciting game of Bullshit.” She grinned widely, waving the cards. “You in?”

“I don’t know.” Emerson groaned.

“Would it help if I said we were playing... strip bullshit? With alcohol?” She held out her other hand exposing her bottle of tequila.

“Fuck it. I’m in.” Dean grinned, swiping the tequila.

“You’re serious?” Emerson asked her sister.

She shrugged. “We are stuck in this basement for god knows how long, and I’m sure you’re as bored as I am. We need to wind down, and I figured what better than a little drinking game.”

“That involves nudity?”

“Only if you’re bad at lying.” Pheli said innocently.

“Yeah.” Emerson rolled her eyes. “I’m so sure.”

The four of them made it into the living room and got in a seated position. Pheli dealt out the cards. “Okay, so the rules are the same. The only kicker is that if you call Bullshit and you’re wrong then you can either take the cards, take a shot, or lose an item of clothing. If you’ve put more than one card you get more than one punishment. So if I put out three cards I can either, take three shots, take two and an item of clothing... you get the point. Oh, and if you call bullshit and you’re wrong, then you have to take whatever punishment the wrongly accused gives you.”

“And who wins?” Emerson asked, suddenly wishing she was wearing more than her pajama shorts and Dean’s t-shirt.

“The winner happens when they completely run out of cards. Like Uno. If you’re naked, then you just have to do shots or take cards.”

“Maklen I’ve called you a genius before, but now I think you’re an evil genius.” Dean grinned, but he wasn’t looking at Pheli at all. His eyes were on Emerson, and this time she wasn’t looking away.

“Alright let’s get started.” Sam laughed. “Phel you’re first.”

Turned out that Pheli was really bad at Bullshit. After five rounds she was sitting in her bra and panties, and she was starting to slur.

Dean was only wearing his jeans, his bare chest exposed. His dog tags rested on his chest. He looked at her under hooded eyes. He’d taken two shots, but still seemed pretty comfortable. Relaxed.

Sam matched his brother pretty well, his skinny chest exposed. Pheli drew little hearts on his chest with her fingers.

“Okay.” Pheli said sitting up. She held up four cards. “Four queenssss.” The S on the Queens hissed a little too long.

“Bullshit.” Em said, looking at her sister over her cards.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you!” She pointed at Emerson. “Read em and weep, sister!” She flipped over her cards to reveal all four queens.

Emerson swallowed hard. She’d managed to avoid any real consequences up until that point. She’d gotten lucky and gotten all good cards. “Be nice, Phel.”

“Get naked, sister.” She giggled. “I own you!”

Pheli never could hold her alcohol. She got sloppy over a few wine coolers, and even then she was a little vindictive. She never quite knew the line, and Emerson was feeling it.

“I only have two pieces of clothes, Phel.” She met her sisters eyes, feeling heat crawl up her neck.

“So I guess you’ll be taking two shots as well!”

“Are you kidding me?” Emerson hissed.

“She doesn’t have to...” Dean began before Pheli waved him off.

“Yes she does! That’s the rules.”

Emerson took the bottle of tequila and took two big swigs, closing her eyes. She hoped it would give her some liquid courage, because she could feel how red and blotchy her skin was under her t-shirt.

She sat down the bottle and Pheli scooped it up, taking a few drinks herself as she eagerly watched her sister’s embarrassment grow.

Dean peeled his eyes off of Emerson, to try to give her some privacy as she pulled off Deans t-shirt from her torso. She sucked in her breath as the cool basement air hit her bare breasts. She sighed and shook her head, as she pulled off her shorts. She sat her pile of clothes in front of her. “Okay. Dean it’s your turn..”

His tongue darted out of his bottom lip, and Emerson could tell he was doing everything in his power not to look at her. To respect her space. Her heart flipped.

“I’ve got uh... two kings.”

“Bullshit!” Pheli sang.

“Nope, sorry.” He said awkwardly.

“Uh oh! Guess you’re seeing both twins no nos!” Pheli giggled as she tried to fiddle with her bra.

“Nope.” Sam said, shaking his head. “No fucking way.” He stood up and threw Pheli over his shoulder. “We are going to bed. Night guys.”

“Sam you’re no fun!” Pheli complained.

Dean handed Emerson the blanket from the couch, his eyes flickering to her for just a second as she wrapped the blanket around herself. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t always wondered what she’d look like naked. He’d seen her in a bathing suit but nothing could compare to how beautiful she was. Her face was pink from embarrassment, and her nipples alert from the cold. Her blonde hair spilled over her pale shoulder, and he wanted to kiss her.

“I’ll give you some space.” He said, standing up.

“You don’t have to go.” She said quietly, looking at him.

Her blush was starting to recede.

“Yeah I do.” He said quietly, and he went back into his room. He closed the door behind him, leaving her sitting in the living room alone. He pressed his back to the door and tried to calm down. His body and his mind where racing toward a finish line. Emerson Maklen. The woman he couldn’t want. The one he could never have. Major national disaster or not. He was still him and she was still her. No amount of card games would change what he already knew, he would never be with Emerson, and never is a long fucking time.

—————

Chapter Seven

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lamentalia · 5 years

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Amelia - Chapter 2

“Hey Mattie?” Amelia says awkwardly as they’re walking. Unlike Mattie she’s never been very interested in discretion and so her attempts at it often come out sounding stilted and graceless. Mattie is always, well, usually better at that kind of thing. However, something bothers her about his actions during the earlier altercation. “Uh. So… What happened to Gilbert’s Rule Number 1 back there?” She asks. “I mean, I could’ve taken the touga, you know, and it’s not like you to be so—”

His face and ears crumple into a wretched look. Oh, ouch, that’s what she was afraid of. She backpedals quickly.

“Hey! No, I’m not blaming you, bro! You’re just… usually more cool-headed than that? What I’m trying to say is are you ok?” She’s kicking herself inside, but Mattie seems to understand what she means. He always does, even when she can’t express herself to save her life. He gives her a tired but, thankfully, less self-flagellating look.

“Sorry, Em.” He says and takes a beat to continue. “I don’t know what happened.” He sighs, yet again. “I should have taken the sanga out first but… Well, I saw that guy grabbing you and I guess I just… reacted.” He shrugs and looks genuinely perplexed. Amelia can sympathize.

“Yeah, ok, I get that.” Amelia says, considering how the scene must have looked to an onlooker. “I guess I might have done the same thing if it were you.” Mattie rolls his eyes and finally smiles a bit.

“Ugh… Thanks, Em. That makes me feel worse.” He says. Amelia shoves him.

“Jerk!” Amelia laughs. She headbutts his arm in sisterly fashion, affectionate but not too gently. Mattie’s too tall to return the gesture of a head butt when they’re walking side-by-side, or rather, Amelia’s too short. It’s no fair, really. They’re supposed to be twins. Why can’t they be the same height? Instead he chuckles and musses her hair in return.

“I don't know…” Mattie repeats after a moment of silence. “I guess I’m just really tense with everything going on, eh?.” Its Amelia’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Mattie, you take on too much responsibility and you’re not very good at it. You gotta stop worrying about everything so much.” She says. Mattie’s face tells her he has some complicated emotion running through his head. “I’m not saying there’s nothing to worry about, obviously,” she shrugs, “but not everything can be helped, you know? We just gotta keep moving.”

“Mm.” He says noncommittally. There’s still something rattling around in his head that he’s not saying to her. Well, she knows he’ll think about it at least.

★

After an anxious hike, Amelia and Matthew arrive. Amelia’s first instinct is to relax as the sunny meadow where they live comes into view. They stop for a moment to take it in.

Amelia feels it’s different somehow, as though she is seeing it through a perspective she didn’t have before. She feels the irony in her telling Mattie to keep moving earlier. It’s just hit her that this will be the last time she visits this place. The home she and Mattie grew up in; the home they woke up in, ate breakfast in and left this morning to patrol their territory as they always have done. Until today.

She scans the scene as if to commit it to memory.

It’s a small meadow full of autumn wildflowers and surrounded by forest that has just begun to change colors. Standing still, they can hear the distant sound of sea water crashing against the rocky cliffs of the northwestern coast of Sisa. Amelia wonders sadly if that’s been swallowed by the Void too.

Just off center of the meadow is an old, gnarled tree that somehow took root atop a rocky outcrop. Its roots twist down over the sides of the bedrock and hide a crevice in the ground that is large enough for a cat to climb through but small enough to miss unless you stand on top of it. Amelia and Mattie don't need to see it to know it’s there; it is the entrance to their home.

Amelia’s heart clenches painfully and she and Mattie find each other’s hands at the same time. Mattie’s hand is a little too cold. Hers is probably a little too hot.

Do they really have to leave? Things are suddenly going way too fast…

But Amelia looks at Mattie and sees that he is hesitating, too. Well, if they must leave, at least they’ll be together. She pulls on Mattie’s hand and walks with him to their house. They need to pack.

☆

Sunlight filters in through the crevice in the ceiling. The floating dust motes beneath it look like tiny, moving stars. She follows the motes with her eyes for a moment before trying to catch them in her small, uncoordinated hands. She peeks into her cupped hands each time she thinks she’s caught one but never finds one there. It perplexes her and makes her more determined…

She hears a soft, musical hum coming from the direction of the stove.

It’ s Mama.

She turns around hoping to see Mama, but Mattie is sitting at the big wooden table, drawing, and is blocking her view. She jumps a few paces sideways, craning her neck.

And one more jump.

There’s Mama!

She loves Mama’s humming. She runs, singing along, to Mama and Mama turns and smiles down at her…

☆

Mattie takes a stack of Guiding Leaves from a basket near the entrance and gives half of them to Amelia. There is a shallow bowl on a shelf beside them that is still full of water from the morning. Mattie drops a leaf into the water. After a moment it begins to glow and the two descend the short staircase into the main living area of their home.

They walk about the room dropping leaves into the bowls of water placed in each corner of the room and put the remainder of their leaves into a large bowl on the wooden table in the center of the room. Gradually the room fills with soft green light.

Amelia looks around slowly, noticing all the things she takes for granted in daily life. The space is not too big, nor too small. The stove and table remain the same as they ever were since before she can remember.

There’s a barrel for water and several others for storing food stacked in one corner of the room. Mattie has a couple of jars of his sap reduction sitting on a shelf near the stove, which he is quite proud of. As he should be; that stuff is really, really tasty.

Her attention moves to the opposite side of the room where there are several shelves they’d installed to put the books left behind by their mother and gifted to them by Gilbert. She moves closer to touch them and wonders whether they could spare the space and the weight of them in their travel packs.

☆

“’Long, Long ago, Two Canes were the cleverest of all life in the land. They spoke several languages and used their tools and intelligence to make whatever things they wanted.

They could fly through the sky or burrow underground—’”

“WOW! They fly??” Amelia asks, taking a break from “grooming” Mama’s glossy, black tail.

“We live underground.” Mattie said quietly, sounding dubious.

“Yes, they did fly.” Mama said with a patient smile, lowering the book she was reading to look at each kitten. “And Mattie, this house was built by Two Canes many, many years ago. This place is very special and ancient.”

Mattie’s ears straighten in shock. He peers around the room as though looking for some hint of Two Canes left behind.

“Issat why the rock walls look funny, Mama?” Amelia asks.

Mama’s brown-skinned hand pats her on the head and she gives her a wide smile as if giving her a reward for doing something very good.

“That’s right Emma,” Mama then pats the smooth, cool wall beside her. “Only the Two Canes could make something like this.”

She returns to the book.

“Now then… ‘they could even spend many days at sea. They excelled at making art and music.—’”

“Mama n’ me make good music!!” Amelia says excitedly. Mattie looks disappointed so she adds, “And Mattie is good at making drawin’s!” He perks up.

Mama smiles and continues.

“’The ancestors of the Ribika were Cats that obeyed Two Canes who were second only to the gods and could have been called gods on earth…’”

“Where did the Two Canes go?” Amelia asks. “Why aren’t they here anymore?” The concept of gods was still a bit fuzzy to Amelia, though she knew they were supposed to be amazing beings.

“Well…” Mama hesitates. “We don’t know what happened. We only know that they disappeared long ago.”

How mysterious! Amelia imagines them flying so far into the sky that maybe they got lost and couldn’t find their way back.

“Mama, why are we called Ribika?” Mattie asks with his head to the side, like he does when he’s thinking a lot.

“We were named after the goddess Ribika who gave birth to the first of our kind.” Mama replies, smiling at Mattie as she did to Amelia earlier. “Before her, our ancestors walked on four legs and were much smaller and less intelligent than we are today.” Mama says.

Amelia tries to imagine such a creature, but it looks very silly. Mattie still has his thinky face on.

Mama laughs softly and her long, straight black hair shifts as she picks the twins up. “Alright, that’s enough for tonight. Time for bed you two.”

☆

Amelia lifts the book to her chest.

She and Mattie have precious few memories of their mother. Most of the memories they do have are foggy and dreamlike; so delicate that she fears they could disappear.

She decides to take the book with her and grabs the one about the stars that Gilbert gave her, too.

Their mother passed away years ago when they were still very small kittens. They don't remember anything of her death except that she was ill for a time and then gone one day. They do not recall how long they were alone together after that, somehow surviving on what they could find in the house and in the meadow. If Gilbert hadn’t stumbled upon them one day, they certainly wouldn’t have survived.

Amelia grabs a pack from her and Mattie’s room and puts the two books in it. Mattie is in here too. If he has any concerns about the practicality of bringing books along, he keeps them to himself. Amelia notices he’s already got the jar of sap reduction sticking out of his bag. Perhaps that has something to do with it. Amelia smiles at him knowingly and continues packing.

★

“So… now what? Do we go ahead with our original plan?” Amelia asks. Anxiety is sadly dulling the rare pleasure of her satiety.

They’re sitting at the wooden table; bags packed and stomachs fuller than usual. After all, as small as their food stores are for a winter, it’s too much to carry all at once. They may as well eat as much as they want. Plus, they’ll need the extra energy for the trip and their goal is to end up in a place where they can find food, anyway.

Leaving home will be a moot point, otherwise. Amelia grimaces at the thought.

“Yeah, it’s our best bet.” Mattie unfurls the map that had been stuffed in his pack. “We only know where Gilbert and Ludwig are.” Mattie points to the center of the map where there is a city labeled ‘Ransen’.

Amelia nods.

Ransen is the biggest city in Sisa and where Gilbert and his younger brother Ludwig live. The two of them have told the twins everything they know about Ransen.

It’s supposed to be huge, with giant Two Canes ruins and hundreds, maybe even thousands of cats from all over; even cats from abroad! Amelia can hardly imagine so many cats living in close proximity; apparently no one there bothers much about territories.

Most amazing of all, though, is that the Void has never shown up anywhere near the city and there has never been a breakout of the Sickness. Food is plentiful and monsters are few. Gilbert had told them they are welcome to stay at his place if they ever needed to leave home.

This was two years ago, though. There’s no telling what has happened in that time… It’s still worth traveling to as they have no better options.

“According to what Gilbert said last time he was here, the Void was closing out the forest North East East of here,” He points to the area. “Down through the area Southeast of us.” His claw tip gently traces the forest down in a line that effectively cuts off a direct route to Ransen.

“So, we’ll have to go to the South.” Amelia says. “We may want to account for some expansion and hook a little southwest before turning east.” She traces her own line down, curving westward through a couple of small villages and then across, heading east to Ransen. Conveniently, there appears to be a river that follows this path partway. Mattie nods slowly, concern showing in his ears and his furrowed brow.

“Yes, but we should try to avoid those villages, if possible.” He says. Amelia blinks at him.

“What? Why?” She asks, baffled. “If we have to go south anyway, we may as well. They might have information we could use.”

“They’re also on the edge of Sisa” Mattie replies pointedly. “They will be hurting for resources like we are, if they’re still there, and you remember what Gilbert said about the outlying villages, right?”

She vaguely remembers Gilbert saying something…

“They’re unfriendly and territorial, even to passersby.” Mattie says, rolling his eyes.

Ah. Yes. She forgot about that.

“Ok, ok. So we’ll avoid the villages.” She says waving her hands at Mattie. She picks up her coat and shrugs it on. “Think we’re ready to go now?”

Mattie sighs, taking another sweeping look across their house. Amelia follows his gaze. They’re leaving so much behind… They knew this day would come but the forewarning gives them no solace in practice. She finds herself sighing too.

“Yeah. It’s not like it’s going to get any easier, eh?” Mattie says donning his coat and lifting his pack onto his shoulders. “The sooner we get out of here, the safer.”

Amelia nods and grabs her own pack and her sadness is soon overlapped with excitement. She’s never traveled so far, before, and she can only imagine the possibilities.

★

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