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pfreadsandwrites · 4 years ago

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Congrats on gaining 100 followers🎉🎉You deserve all of them and more! 🥳 I'm looking forward to everything you're planning to write in the future❤️ As for the prompts, would you please do #160 with Kakashi? Go wild with it 👁👁 Thank you and I wish the best for your blog❤️

100 follower celebration

Okay, here it is! I want to thank you specifically @madaras-housewife because you have been so amazing and supportive from the first fic I posted here and your encouragement has really helped this blog grow and made me write more. So thank you so much, and I’m sorry this took me forever to get out!! This was a bit of an unusual one so it took me a while to think about, and apologies if it’s not wild enough heh but I tried my best to develop it into something. But thank you for everything and I really hope you enjoy this :) I tried my best to go ‘out there’ and wild with it lol. Also can I just say this mangacap is perfect for the last part of this one-shot lol.

warnings/notes: third person, Kakashi pov, female civilian reader (she works at the hospital but plz don’t ask for details beyond that lol), pining Kakashi, kinda fluffy, then kinda sad, then kinda hopeful, marking this as 18+ since there is a paragraph that is brief NSFW mentions, in my mind this takes place between the time skip between part 1 and part 2 but it doesn’t really matter. Told in 4 small vignettes/parts essentially. 2.7k words.

taglist: @allthingskakashi @datblobbyfish @enchantedpendant @madaras-housewife @ibukiirisha @praisingkuroosbedhead @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored

160. “Do you think you could teach me that?”

It’s a simple question.

Of course, it’s also a pointless question, one that Kakashi’s sure she’ll see through, one that he shouldn’t even think about asking.

Of course, he’s in the hospital again. Of course, she’s the one with the misfortune of tending to him again. Of course, he’s mesmerised while her hands dutifully wrap the tourniquet around his arm, like she’s cutting off the blood to his brain.

So, of course, he asks it without thinking.

The self-admonishment starts before the words finish leaving his mouth.

Do you think you could teach me that?

His cheeks heat up as the words catch up with him. They echo again and again, serving only to jeer at him further. What the hell is he thinking, making a request like that? A request that’s so nonsensical, so outlandish, so flimsily shrouding its true intent that she’d be justified in ridiculing him right there.

But it’s done now. Here he is, asking a bizarre favour of a civilian woman already doing him a favour.

Kakashi’d be content if the ground gives away underneath him, snatching him from this damn hospital bed. When he ponders the situation further, and he finds himself contemplating her reaction - no doubt a bewildered, adorable expression would grace her beautiful features (God, how much deeper could he get?) - he almost wants to slap himself. How did he go from the Copy Ninja, Konoha’s best jounin, to an awkward dork so swiftly and smoothly? Not only that, but she hadn’t even said anything yet. Kakashi wanted to die.

Fortunately, she only pauses. Unfortunately, her delicate fingers still against his skin, and the sensation flusters and soothes him simultaneously. But it’s only for a moment, before she diligently returns to the task at hand. Even if she’s surprised, or worse, amused, she knows to conceal it. Taking his question seriously in that earnest way that only she can. It should have eased his mind, but instead there’s only guilt at having perplexed her.

“…You want to learn this? Don’t you have enough on your plate?” She asks, bereft of judgement or ridicule.

He shouldn’t have expected any less, he knows that, and yet he still finds himself on the edge. On that precipice between anxiety and comfort, where he’s always standing around her. He can’t even formulate a response to her simple question. Yes - he probably did have enough to do. And yes, he wouldn’t have got this far without some knowledge of first aid and basic medical ninjutsu - and she probably knew that too.

“I could probably manage. It’s not a problem if you don’t have the time.” As typical as it is for him to answer a question without explaining himself further, he berates himself for it this time. Why had he made this so convoluted? And why does she let him?

“I could probably make time,” she retorts, though her voice remains gentle. “I just didn’t think there’d be anything useful you could learn from me, or that you didn’t already know.”

Nothing useful you could learn from me, or that you didn’t already know.

This time, her words echo in his mind. They’re just as kind and nudging as he thought they would be. But that didn’t mean they were any less ridiculous.

Apparently, there’s nothing he can learn from her. Nothing she can teach him.

Nothing he can learn from the woman who always smiles so brightly and indiscriminately at anyone who graced her that it renders them all equal - turning everyone from the grumpy old curmudgeon to the innocent newborn to cheerful, optimistic entities at her mercy. Nothing he can learn from her inability to use her mysterious power for anything but good, to see the value in everyone, in him, against all better judgement.

Nothing he can learn from her selflessness, and her weird knack for chiding herself for her momentary lapses in kindness, for things others don’t think twice about. Nothing he can learn from her patience and empathy in the most ridiculous situations, and her faltering in it when she draws the attention inwards.

Nothing he could learn from the woman who’s determination to revel in life, even as the opposite surrounded her, surrounded him, surrounded everyone in this cursed village, managed to bring even the heavy weight of death to its knees. Nothing he could learn from the woman who didn’t even seem fazed by it, as she tended to the hospital’s neonates with a giggle and a zest for life that he barely comprehends, much less hopes to emulate.

If - he surprises himself at his optimism, but he owes it to her - he’s incapable of learning nothing from all that, then there isn’t much hope for him at all. And if there’s one thing she inspires, if he can even pick one, it’s hope.

Kakashi eventually stops ruminating. And of course, she lets him. A wry smile forms on his lips. “I wouldn’t say that.”

She glances back at him expectantly. Curiously.

“I think there’s a lot you could teach me, you know.”

She’s already taught him without intending to, he remembers, when she doesn’t press him for an explanation. She only smiles that shy, powerful smile.

But they both know it’s acknowledgement. Of what he’s trying to say, of what he’s asking her in his awkward, haphazard way. Kind as she is, even if she shouldn’t be, she agrees.

***

ii.

And so, ever the one to keep her promise, she sets about teaching him. And Kakashi, ever the one to falter, but never one to abandon, keeps coming back. He’s a quick learner in more ways he thought.

She teaches him that finding something to smile about in the day is easier than it seems.

She teaches him to laugh when he drops by the hospital to see her and a very small patient points at his hair and berates him from escaping from the geriatric ward.

She teaches him allowance for his mistakes, and respite for his suffering.

She teaches him what a fool he’s been for denying himself an embrace all these years.

She teaches him that a kiss might be more eternal, more damning, more fate-consigning that it has any right to be.

She doesn’t have to teach him just how intoxicating, addictive it is to kiss her between the legs. She doesn’t have to teach him just where and how to move his tongue before she’s tugging at that wild silver hair of his. And when he moves in her, when she clutches onto him for dear life, whispering his name in that weak, but lingering whimper, when their breaths mingle together and she manages to exalt everything from him - his love, his strength, his seed - she doesn’t have to teach him that though the price of vulnerability is high, the reward is even higher.

She teaches him, when he dares ask what he sees in a man like her, that there’s an answer to that question that satisfies him.

She teaches him that whilst leaving for a mission used to be easy, it might one day become difficult - even for him, the one who has over a thousand under his belt, the one who only has that many because he wished one would kill him. She teaches him to admit that, too.

And when it does become difficult, just as she taught, he learns that a person waiting back home is much more motivating than a death wish could ever be.

She teaches him to forgive himself, as she begins to accompany him on his graveside visits. She teaches him that there’s a chance - a small chance, Kakashi admits, but a chance nonetheless - that there’s more for his life than living it as a penance to ghosts.

She teaches him that dreaming isn’t just for the young, the idealistic, the good. It’s for the hurt, tired veteran too.

She teaches him that hearing those three words aren’t as terrifying as he’d convinced himself all these years.

He learns, when he finally returns them, that he should have said it back long ago. Because it was all worth it just for that look on her face.

***

iii.

Their time together, dreamlike as it is, is always interrupted.

She’s used to it, calmly nodding in his direction at the summoning bird that’s taken to pecking at her window now too. He nods in kind, and with a quick kiss, he’s off on his next mission. She’s always accepting, always understanding, but the patient stare that bores into his back as he leaps off towards the gravestone (an eternal part of the farewell ritual) belies her anxiety.

Still, Kakashi does make it back. And he does again and again. Sometimes his returns are at the hospital - and that expression of hers, where she doesn’t know whether to chide him for his injury or cry that he’s still in one piece - fills him with equal parts guilt and encouragement.

She still never loses that smile, though. The smile that everyone knows.

He has to leave it behind again.

He makes it back. Without a scratch, for once, but figures he might surprise her at the hospital anyway. Strange. He used to be so good at avoiding this place, and now it’s the first place he comes to of his own accord. It’s just another way he’s lost against her, but he doesn’t begrudge it. Maybe he wants some praise for being more careful, but he won’t admit that outright. Maybe he’s getting worse and worse at waiting for that smile, too.

His optimism is never rewarded. He’s been through enough to remember that, but he’s still foolish enough to forget.

It feels different, today, walking through the corridors that she’s made so inexplicably light, so jovial. She easily leaves her mark without trying, to the awe of shinobi and civilians alike.

So when the atmosphere is dense, experience teaches him to dread it. He asks at the front desk, forgetting his tendency to hide all he can about his personal life. The woman stares up at him with wide eyes, hesitating before regaining her composure.

“(Name) isn’t working at the moment. She’s in room 175.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but it wouldn’t matter if she had. The familiar dread creeps up through his bones.

He’s prepared himself for the worst by the time he’s at her room, but it’s moot when he sees her lying there. She’s lost all her colour, she’s thinner - everything about her that’d remembered these few weeks had become so weak. Her vivacity, her will to endure, had even fooled him. But she was just as fragile as anyone else. Except for him. Why the fuck couldn’t he break, instead of someone else, instead of something that meant anything just this one fucking time?

He sits at her bedside, his calloused fingers touching her dainty ones. She’s only sleeping, at least. Purple and blue spread like constellations over her skin, bandages on her arms and cheeks - the kind of injuries he’d expect on a ninja. Of a ninja too. Thoughts upon thoughts flood his mind - how the hell did this happen? Who did this to her? If she’s not safe in the damn village that he fought to protect, where the hell could she be safe?

And, of course, the curse that he’s done so well to forget he has. Did this happen, somehow, because against all judgement, he had let himself become close to her? It makes sense that he’d only be able to fool himself to a point.

And, of course, as if to shush his self-loathing and anxiety, in that fucking selfless way she always did, that broke his heart even more - her fingers move against his.

She blinks her eyes open slowly and turns her gaze to him. She doesn’t have the energy to smile, but she tries to mimic it in the look in her eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

He clasps her hand tight - and lets go just as quickly when she winces. “What the hell happened, (Name)?”

She softens her gaze. “It’s funny that I’m the one that ended up like this, when you’re the one that went out on a mission.” Her tone is light, but somehow the hum of her voice brings gravity, whether she wants it to or not.

She won’t answer his question. As if she feels guilty that she’s putting him through something, which only hurts all the more. And Kakashi knows that insisting too strongly is too unfair, too cruel when she seems so tired, no matter how much his blood boils.

There was an attack, he figures that much, and he overhears more from a nurse. A drunk jounin who’d come across her on his way home.

It’s dealt with swiftly, with the speed and efficiency Kakashi prides himself on, but it isn’t enough. He can’t forgive himself, even if she does.

She recovers soon enough, but only to a point.

Her smile is gone. The openness she’d inspire in everyone around her, the joy she’d invite - it dwindles down to nothing. It’s all too much, too familiar, a sad story he’s seen up and close too many times.

Any smile she makes now is a facsimile, a ghost of anything she could have offered previously. But her kindness still forces her to attempt it, no matter how much it hurts, when Kakashi looks at her.

As impressive as her will is, it’s only finite. He berates himself as she breaks one night, and sobs into his chest.

But she doesn’t do it again.

She doesn’t seem to do much of anything anymore.

He has another mission.

***

iv.

Kakashi’s at the training grounds again. He’s here a lot these days. When there isn’t a mission, he’s got into the habit of putting his body through the wringer. It’s what he deserves, at the very least. Besides, he has a lot more free time than he used to. As the raindrops mix with his sweat, his lightning style blends just as seamlessly with the sky.

“Do you think you could teach me that?”

The voice is familiar. Gentle, just like it used to be. Shakier than it used to be, but there’s a faint hint of the quiet resolve he used to hear, that he was foolish enough to take for granted.

He pauses. The chakra he’d gathered in his hands dissipates, and he turns around. He’s no amateur, he knew he wasn’t alone. But he could tell his little observer wasn’t there to pose a threat, either. She watches him with her wide eyes, the wide eyes that historically and even now freeze him in place. She was never one to marvel at his ninjutsu before, only acquiescing or being impressed where appropriate, - and that’s not quite what she’s doing now, either.

“Well -,” she holds her right arm with her left. It’s a normal gesture. One that would have endeared him, but only makes his heart sink now. Suddenly it’s difficult to watch her doubt herself. “Not that exactly. I don’t even want to do that even if I could. But anything you can teach me. It doesn’t have to be a lot. I think I’d be fine with a little. It’d be enough to feel better. If you don’t have too much on your plate.”

He’s watching her now, studying that expression in her eyes. Where she’s determined and defiant, even in that modest way. He believes her - she doesn’t want to learn a lot. She doesn’t want to be too much like him. But she’s allowing herself to learn from him. She’s letting herself take, not just give.

“Alright. Tomorrow, then. But let’s get you home first. It’s late, raining…,” his voice trails off, brushing off the rain from his hair sheepishly. “And I could use a break.”

She begins to smile that shy, powerful smile again. It’s sincere, and her ability to infect others with it seems to have returned. “That’s fine by me. I hear you’ve been overdoing it lately."

Kakashi finds himself grinning back.

Do you think you could teach me that?

It’s a simple question.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #naruto #kakashi fanfiction #pfwrites #this must be my favourite prompt i've written #listening to missed the boat whilst writing this like WOW I'MA SAD #WHY THIS DOESN'T SHOW IN TAG I CRY

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mitsuki-murakami · 5 years ago

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zero o’clock [Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader]

“Hello, hello. I’m glad you survived the 2018 tumblr purge.

It’s been a long time since I sent in a request *cracks knuckles* Can you do #3 from the dialogue prompt for Oikawa or Kuroo (your choice) making a mistake? This gonna be gud.

#3: “How could you think that this wouldn’t hurt me?”

Requested by: @thenerdyrebel

Hello!! This is Kuroo’s version of the same prompt! I wanted to do both Kuroo and OIkawa for this prompt considering this came in so late huhu I hope this makes up for it! Thank you for your patience uwu

Warning: ANGSt angst but also a lot of fluff

***

Light flashes through the curtains of the window, illuminating the blanket that’s somewhat wrapped around your limbs entangled with Kuroo’s.

Thunder follows.

You feel him pull you closer to you, placing your head right on the curve of his chest, where you used to voluntarily nestle in during nights like this. Tonight was a different case. You hadn’t even considered sleeping in the same bed as him. Not after that huge argument that you just had with him. But as soon as the rain poured, there was no way that Kuroo was going to allow you to go someplace else by yourself. You didn’t even agree to his offer to drive you home, reasoning that it was going to slippery to safely drive.

He gave you the bed early on that night. He didn’t mind sleeping on the couch. That worked until the rain got stronger and thunder started to rattle the walls of your shared bedroom. You contemplated for a good minute or so, thinking if you should ask him to stay beside you until you fell asleep. But as soon as you cracked open the door to the living room, you found him awake, waiting for you to ask him to come inside.

No words were spoken. Only the rustling of sheets and the tired ruffling of his hair was heard from Kuroo. You briefly met with his hazel eyes in the darkness but he avoided from staring too long. No need for longing gazes that would give away everything. He didn’t want to know what this meant. Hoping would only mean that it would hurt more. All he focused on was the fact that you needed him tonight, and he would oblige.

Even if the very thought of you in the arms of someone else on a night like this clawed at him more viciously than he thought it would.

Sounds of each other’s erratic breathing filled the room. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy for either of you. The only thing that made sense at that moment was that the two of you savored the moment that the both of you were longing for in ages. So you hugged back, moving upwards to bury your face onto the crook of his neck instead. Your breaths tickled his neck while he moved to run his fingers through your hair, effectively causing your eyes to flutter shut momentarily, its last view being the red glare of the clock on the bedside reading 23:46.

The thunder no longer came, but he was still holding onto you for dear life.

Your eyes opened to see 00:00 blinking across the room. It was then that you decided to sit up. Both of you were calm enough, but not relaxed enough to be able to get some sleep. Although you wanted to stay in his arms forever, you knew that this wouldn’t fix any of the wounds that you both left on each other after fighting. Talking would. Understanding what you did wrong to make him say those things would.

You pulled yourself from his arms, propping yourself up on one of your elbows. You attempted to sit up, but you looked to see that Kuroo’s hand was wrapped around your other arm. You wanted to only glance at him, but his eyes held your gaze in place, seeming as if it were glowing in the darkness. It was glassy.

“Don’t leave. Me.” His voice cracked in the middle of his sentence. Maybe from disuse, but most likely because he was breaking. The view of you hovering over him despite your attention being somewhere else was piercing.

A sigh left you. You leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I won’t. I love you. I just want to talk.” The breath that he had been holding since you had moved was released. He slowly let go of your arm with the guidance of your hand. You untangled your legs from his and removed the blanket from your lap.

You finally sat up and hugged your legs and rested your chin on your knees. You weren’t completely facing him and instead stared at the clock that read 00:02. Kuroo was still lying on the bed, his eyes never leaving you, as you waited until 00:05 to muster up the courage to speak.

“I’m sorry I made you think that I was,” you paused. You couldn’t even say the words.

“Cheating on me.”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t think that if you’d only tell me where you’ve been for the past two nights.” He responded quickly, shifting until he could lean against the headboard, his hands resting on his stomach. “Don’t even try to tell me that you were at work--”

“And if I was? You can look at how many hours I’ve logged in that stupid place.”

“Who the hell works until 11?” He retorted through gritted teeth.

“If you knew better you’d know that the answer was me.”

“I--God. I want to believe you but you’re making it so hard for me to do that.” You glanced at him again. He was curled away now, too. You then buried your face in your hands to try to stop yourself from sobbing, but you failed.

“I knew that I could handle this job as soon as I got it, I really did. Turns out I could handle it more than any intern ever could. But the only thing I couldn’t handle was this stupid jerk of a resident and I just--”

“Hey. hey, no,” he called as he removed your hands from your face to wipe away the tears that came. “Don’t cry, okay? It’s okay, we can fix this.” You calmed down and leaned into his touch, sniffling.

“I can go there first thing in the morning and talk to whoever this jerk is and--” you flinched away, causing him to stop midway.

“And ruin everything I worked so hard for? See, this is why I can’t tell you these kinds of things! You always immediately take it upon yourself to protect me like I’m a damsel in distress when I don’t need you to!”

“And you don’t hide everything from me and shoulder things like you have to do this all on your own?” That made you pause.

“Whether you realize it or not, we’re in a relationship. This works only if you talk to me. From there I’ll know how to help you, because you’re not alone, okay? I can and I will do this with you.”

“You just care so much don’t you?” You shot back, sarcasm dripping. “I don’t need your help with this. Half the time I’m stressing myself out trying to do my job and the other half I spend trying to not show you how stressed out I am because you always react like I want you to fix everything for me!”

He pulled away from you in disbelief, “I’m just trying to help you--”

“I’m telling you I don’t need you!” You replied, all the pent up stress and exhaustion for the past week shooting out all at once.

He tried to avert his gaze to hide the tears threatening to spill over, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“No, Tetsurou, I-I didn’t mean that, I swear.” You attempted to reach out to him, but it was like there was a barrier stopping you.

Cold ran throughout your veins, causing you to start shuddering. How do I take it back? How do I take everything back?

“Just like you didn’t mean to ignore my calls? My messages reminding you to eat your lunch? My asking you to eat one meal with me after you’ve locked yourself in this room for almost two days to ‘catch up’ on some reading?” His words were momentarily cut off with a bitter laugh, as if all of this was some sort of sick joke that he didn’t want to participate in.

“I know you don’t think you don’t need my help, but honestly? If I wasn’t hovering over you for the past month, you’d probably be stuck in the same hospital ward you spend so much time running around in, but you would be the patient instead.”

“I know how much you value your job and how much you overcame to even land it, but how could you think that you need to hide how much you were running yourself ragged, to me? You’re killing yourself over this job. You’re hurting yourself so much to prove that I don’t need to worry over you, but how could you think that this wouldn’t hurt me?”

You were rendered speechless. He was right. He was right-- you had no clue how much it hurt him to watch you neglect yourself, to watch how you neglected to let him take care of you even though he was well within his rights to act like he had been acting.

Kuroo no longer hid his face. He stared outside the window, his fists clutching hard on the blanket that laid on his lap to the point where it turned white. He almost knocked himself out to not choke on his own sobs, and still, one escaped, wrecking his frame.

You took it as a sign to wrap your arms around his middle, resting your forehead on his. You held him there, even if he didn’t move at all, except for the occasional hitching of his breath. The tension faded away and the silence that was once so testing morphed into one of comfort.

Eventually, his hands found its way to your face, reaching towards the back of your neck to tug you closer to him. Glad that he was finally holding you, the tear tracks on your face that were about to dry up suddenly dampened again.

“Thank you,” you managed to breathe out despite the lump in your throat becoming increasingly more difficult to swallow. “Thank you for taking care of me, Tetsurou.”

He didn’t respond, instead he only leaned back enough to see your face slightly illuminated by the street lights outside. He wiped your tears before he nestled his forehead against yours again, closing his eyes at the warmth that spread across his body from your touch.

“I’m sorry. I love you. I love you so much.” You took one of his hands and held it between yours, pressing his knuckles against your lips. It was one of your ways to show your affection to each other. Be it less intimate than a kiss, or a hug even, it showed that you appreciated the efforts that you made for each other. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be better, I promise. I’ll take fewer shifts, I’ll even talk to the chief if I have to--”

“I know, I love you too.”

The thunder returned later on, waking you. But there was no need to think if you should ask him to stay beside you to fall asleep. He was right there beside you, awake and aware of your anxiousness. He wrapped himself around you almost instantly, covering your eyes by pulling you to his chest and covering your ears with his hands.

That night, you laid across him, instead of it being the other way around. Usually, it would be Kuroo who would put as much weight as he could on you without crushing you so he’d know when you’d leave his side in the morning. Tonight was a different case.

In the morning, Kuroo would finally wake up with you beside him. He would no longer have to frantically search for you in the house only for him to find that you had already gone to work.

***

Thank you for reading!

Hello!! How is everyone doing? I hope yall are healthy and safe!!

Special thanks to @capt-spangles and @sashimeh, I hope this cheers u up

Taglist:

@from-sejiou-to-the-stars @zephyrria

#Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq #hq!!#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #one shot #angst

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the-twelve-guardians · 3 years ago

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Regain Your Starlight

A Discord text game inspired by Philippine folklore

How you wish you could return home to the night sky.

You are a STARMAIDEN, and you've just lost your WINGS after a night of frolicking along the waters of LAGUNA LAKE. As such, you are unable to reunite with your fellow Stars until you recover your wings.

You’re standing on the shore of the lake. It’s the middle of the night. What do you do?

>retrieve arms

Thankfully, your arms are still intact. You take the form of a beautiful native maiden, with a star-shaped mole underneath your eye to signify you are BORNE OF THE NIGHT SKY.

>retrieve wings

Obviously, you can't! You've misplaced them. You remember leaving them right here, on this shore of the lake! Or was it that other shore? No no. Hmm.

>==>

You decide to seek refuge in the parish of a nearby TOWN, which you learn is called KUBLIHAN.

"May I assist you, miss...?"

It's a young SACRISTAN, an assistant helping around with the tasks of the church. It seems he was in the middle of sweeping the floors and counting the money in the coffers. He introduces himself as CRISANTO.

What do you tell him?

>just a normal human maiden who has lost something

"Hmm, alright then. Although... I can tell you're different from most women. I don't know, just my intuition."

>adopt

"Why are you here so late at night? Have you no family?" you ask him.

"My mother lives on the far reaches of the town. I stay here on most nights. It's alright, I can visit her tomorrow, as I don't have work!" he says cheerfully.

>==>

It's the following day. Crisanto says he'll accompany you back to the bay to search for what you've lost, as his mother lives along the lake!

Before you arrive, you pass through a dark neck of the woods. The sunlight doesn't seem to shine through the tree branches, and there's a chill in the air and a scent of something rotting.

"Heeheehee. You shouldn't have come here, boy."

A withered crone in a black shawl shows herself, and points a bony finger toward you two.

Crisanto jumps, and hides behind you.

"Ahhh! It's Barang the Witch! Please, do something!"

>stand protectively in front of him

You do so. Crisanto cowers behind you, clearly afraid of the witch.

>do we know any magic???

>look around for any potential smack-witch-object

You can do magic, sure, but it's incredibly weak. Basically, you can take existing moonlight and fashion it into something physical, but it's the middle of the day!

There's a BRANCH nearby, if you can keep her distracted long enough to get to it.

>KICK

>AND KICK HARD

You give her a swift KICK. By the light of the moon, you'd have punished her by now!

You nod to Crisanto, and he fetches the branch. You give Daluyong a good smack, which renders her unconscious and thus down for the count. You then flee back to the safety of the forest's edge, where Crisanto reunites with his mother.

"Mother! Oh, oh, it was so scary! But she saved me, Mother!"

"Oh... how wonderful," Crisanto's mother says as she turns to you. "What is your name, dear miss?"

"Sara," you tell her.

>save

[ Bookmark added. ]

>head back to daluyong and beat the everloving crap out of her while you still can

You return to the forest, but she's gone! That wily witch.

You instead head back to the town parish. Crisanto informed you that the gossipy SISTER MINANG could tell you who's who in town.

When you get there, the church is empty. It's suddenly sweltering hot inside, and there's a dry wind that enters the windows. One of the statues of the saints moves. It's the Sto. Niño, an image of Christ as a young boy. He has porcelain skin and coarse, curly hair. He's also dressed in an elegant gold and crimson robe.

He yawns.

"Well, that nap took forever. Oh dear, is that a crack? That's new. Oh, and this outfit."

The Sto. Niño turns to you. "Ah! It seems I have a devotee today. How do you do, fair Star? I'm El Niño, the Heat Haze Wind."

...h-hi

>god?

"Small G, please! Hehe. I used to go by Santonilyo, but then those pesky conquistadores went and turned me into a saint! So I just go by Santo Niño nowadays. What year is it? Ah, 1895. Man, that was a long nap. Are these islands like, still under Spanish rule? Sorry, I'm babbling. Hahaha."

You inform him of your current dilemma. He says he's willing to help, but he can only move when exposed to direct sunlight. Otherwise, you'll have to carry him.

>stay somewhere open with sunlighty

>can we destroy the ceiling to let in a LOT of light?

"Why didn't I think of that!! You're pretty smart."

The sunlight seems to shine even brighter, until the ROOF of the church caves in. You're able to get out in the nick of time, holding El Niño's tiny hand in yours.

"Oopsies," he says.

You're now in the middle of the town square. As it's the middle of the day, everyone is taking their midday nap (siesta).

>==>

After some time, you decide to take El Niño somewhere safe, and transfer him to a nearby grotto. That way, when the sun sets and he reverts back into a statue, he'll at least have a place to stay where people can find and worship him.

It's now the witching hour. You hear a guttural growl, and turn to find a nun.

"So... so hungry... Need... flesh..."

Before your very eyes, she grows bat wings, and looks at you with crazed eyes.

"Sister Isidra!" El Niño says. "I always knew there was something fishy about her. She's a vampire!! We need to do something. Oh, by the way, since it's sunset, my powers are limited and we have around fifteen minutes before I turn back into a statute. Good luck!"

>STICK SMACK

You charge at her with a STICK, but it proves useless. She instead snaps it like, well, a stick!!! Dammit.

El Niño tries to use his powers, and summons the Heat Haze. Cracks form around the earth, and there's a sweltering wind. Alas, it doesn't do much.

"Oops, guess it's time," he says as the sun sets. "Did I tell you that vampires get stronger as night falls? You'd best be getting outta here."

>==>

You stall Isidra until the MOON comes out. Yes, you can use your powers!!

Unfortunately it's waning. Therefore your powers are nigh-depleted. You hold out your hands a bit, but all you can manage to muster is a ball of moonlight as hard and dense as a large rock.

>scream: why the fuck the moon so weak? Git good, moon what are you, moon moon?

>FLEE WITH THE POWER OF SALT

You decide to FLEE, throwing some SALT at Isidra. You keep forgetting that Crisanto's mother packed you a lunch of SALTED FISH. That counts, right??

Isidra lets out a shriek of pain. You book it back to the forest, and find Crisanto's home.

"Miss Star! You've come back," Crisanto's mother, SINTA, says. "Did you eat my packed lunch?"

"Vampire. On her way," you tell her, wheezing. You're exhausted from all that running.

>==>

Isidra finds you, and starts flying towards the hut!

"I'll take care of this, dear."

Sinta does some chants while dancing around with a candle on her head. She takes her loyal ROOSTER, which starts to crow. A miniature ball of FIRE appears, and heads straight toward the Vampire. It screeches in horror at the light, and flees.

>==>

"That was something, Sinta! How were you able to do that?!" you ask her.

"Well, back in the day before I gave birth to Crisanto, I was something of a shaman," she says. "Don't tell him, though. I wanted to give him a good life, free of the shackles of the magic world."

>hug her

>thank you!!

>cry a lil

"Thank you so much, Nay Sinta! I was so scared!!" you say.

"No need to thank me, dear. We're all people in need, at one point or another."

You get a good night's sleep, and head back to the town church to assess the damage done. Hopefully you can help with repairs, as the town curate, PADRE BENEDICTO, will be angry.

As you arrive, there's already someone there. It's a snobbish-looking young woman in a frilly dress.

"Oh dear. Who brought the riffraff? Pedro, fetch me some water please," she says, fanning herself. Sinta tells you this is the wealthy Doña Ambrosia, a cruel and spiteful woman. She's the richest person in town, and looks down on everyone.

What do you do?

>save

[ Bookmark added. ]

>is there water anywhere near?

There's a river flowing a little ways west. You could easily walk to it and be back within half an hour.

>do we have any containers to store water?

Sinta brought over a bowl made of banana leaves that she's woven together, and bound with magic. It will never leak.

>start walking towards the river

"That Doña Ambrosia is a real snob, huh?" you ask Sinta.

"She sure is. You know, I heard she even threw a plate at one of her servants! I don't see why poor Pedro puts up with her. That's some real devotion."

You take some river water, and put it in Sinta's banana bowl. What do you do next?

>sinta, on a scale of one to ten, how amazing would it be if i brought ambrosia this water just to dump it on her head?

"Yes, I'd like that very much! And I know a way we can do it."

You and Sinta go back to where Ambrosia is, and volunteer to give her water. You rush over, bowl in-hand, and Sinta pretends to trip you as a prank! As intended, you spill water all over Doña Ambrosia.

"ARGH! You simpletons, unable to even get me some water! My uncle will be hearing about this!!!" she says, storming off.

You're still a long ways away from finding your wings, but you're HAPPY. Being a human is nice.

[ End of Session 1. ]

#philippine folklore #philippine mythology #star maiden #()stories #original story #starlight

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tevanavernus · 4 years ago

Text

Saudade - Chapter 2

|| Prologue || ||Chapter 1 ||

Summary: "Saudade" - A nostalgic longing for a person or thing that was loved once, but is now lost.

Helmut Zemo's life was forever changed when the Avengers picked his country as a personal playground to fight their own creations. He would never regain the pieces of his life where he was a husband and a father of two. But the existence of new Super Soldiers might just bring him closer to that life he once had than he ever thought was possible. Madripoor holds secrets that even Baron Zemo does not know about.

Word Count: 10k

Helmut followed in some sort of a daze, not focusing on the turns that they took as they made their way to Selby's office, barely seeing the money that was piled up on the tables and the armed men that stood guard on seemingly every corner. No, his mind was miles away, trying to comprehend what he heard mere minutes ago.

"What the hell, man?" Sam hissed right by his ear as he overtook James. "You almost blew us."

"Apologies." Was all that he could muster up to say, looking straight ahead. What else could he really say? That for the briefest moment he thought he heard Nic's voice? That if he shut down the logical side of his brain even for a second, he would admit that's how he'd imagine she would sound like now? That he, not even seeing a woman's face fully, picked her as an example of how his girl would look like? Maybe being locked up for few years with nothing but books and solidarity brought him closer to insanity than he liked to admit.

Helmut barely heard Le Petit Homme by Edith Piaf playing over the speakers as they finally approached Selby's office. The woman in front of them turned back. Her brown eyes landed on him for the briefest second and knocked the air out of his lungs once again. Was this a trick of some sort? Power Broker trying to get under his skin, render him useless? Helmut doubted that he would care enough to go to such lengths, but there had to be an explanation. Sure, he knew that theoretically there were around seven people in the world who could look similar to Nic, but his gut instinct was sending him red signals. That this was too much of a coincidence for him to cross paths with a lookalike, in Madripoor of all places, the one time that he was looking for information himself. No, something was wrong here. He couldn't get distracted, couldn't let some lowlife distract him with the face of the dead. He spent most of his life trusting his instinct. The one time that he didn't, he spent days digging through the rocks of a collapsed building.

The woman took a couple of steps behind him, attacking his nose with a sharp, earthy scent that had just a tiniest floral undertone, and stopped in front of Sam. She invaded his space, leaving no distance between them. Helmut followed her actions with his eyes, noticing that James straightened up and he shook his head lightly in a warning. There were too many eyes watching them. She reached for Sam's neck and Helmut was nearly certain that James would lash out. He could tell by the way that he was clenching the prosthetic arm, that the man was considering it. Whatever they thought she'd do, they didn't expect for her to simply unbutton the top button and straighten his collar.

"Are you really going to make me wait for my own guests, Nic?" Selby's sweet voice almost made him jump up in surprise. He clenched his hands in the pockets of the coat, wrapping his fingers around the hard handle of the ka-bar knife he still had in his possession from the army days. A coincidence. Nicoletta, or any similar version of it, was simply a popular name. It wasn't his Nic. Definitely not the girl he buried years ago. Just one big, fat coincidence. He was even prepared to entertain the idea of it being a futile attempt by someone to distract him. In his mind, he knew that. He only needed to convince his heart that hadn't stopped racing from the moment she spoke.

"Of course not." Her voice rang out, making him inhale sharply. She ran her fingers through the suit jacket and with a smirk moved in front again. Right. There was no time for mistakes.

Nic moved out of the way, allowing Helmut to cast his eyes on Selby. She had her back turned to them, sitting comfortably on one of the couches. A power move. She was not threatened by their presence. Not that he could blame her, there were four security guards in the room alone, all holding assault rifles. No doubt more were ready to barge in at a second's notice.

"You should know, Baron. People don't just come into my bar and make demands." Selby said as she tapped her fingers against the couch. Helmut gave her a tight-lipped smile and a small nod as he moved to sit down in front of her. Two of the men stood by the wall beside them while James and Sam moved in to stand on either end of the couches.

"Not a demand. An offer." He elaborated, getting comfortable on the couch. He crossed his legs, his foot landing on the edge of the short table that was in front of him. He noticed a couple of bags lying on the table with a clear powder and a Grand Power K100 semi-automatic pistol within a hand's reach, positioned in a way that she could easily grab it. It was a cat and mouse game. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Nic walked over to the table behind Selby's couch and turned her back on them.

"A lot has changed since you were here last." She took a glance at James before turning back to him. "By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?"

A lot of things might have changed during the years, but he could tell that she did not. All sweet and smiles, hoping that he would fall into the false sense of security that she loved to provide. That he'd spill his secrets or slip up and give a reason for her to doubt his intentions for the visit.

"People like us always find a way, don't we?" Helmut dodged her question raising his hands in a shrug. The more that he could get away with leading her in circles, the better. "I'm sure you've already figured out what I'm here for."

His smile faltered ever so slightly as Nic came back in the view, moving past James to sit down on the couch. She had taken off her mask. He blinked twice to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks with him. Sure he had moments during his imprisonment, in the dead of night where he had nothing but his own mind to keep him company. Moments where he could almost imagine Ivana's soft touch against his face and see his children in a flash between one moment and the next. If he concentrated enough, he could've heard their voices. But this was different. This was too real to be a figment of his imagination, no matter how vivid it could be. Whoever she was, she looked identical to his Nic.

He bit inside his cheek, irritating his mouth even more as Nic planted herself beside Selby and mimicked her pose. It was so much harder to keep his composure when she was right in front of him, watching his every move with those same shade of brown eyes that Ivana had.

With her sitting opposite of him, he had a chance to take a closer look at her. The chopped off blonde hair barely reached her shoulders. Unlike the majority of the people in the bar, she did not wear makeup or attire suitable for such a place. Instead, she wore a pair of jeans, a high collared crop top, and a rust-colored leather jacket with a hood.

Swallowing he looked back at Selby, determined to keep his attention to her. He was after the information that she had, he needed to concentrate on that. Not on the hypotheticals.

"So many people with offers and deals these days." She grinned, moving her hand to rest on Nic's shoulder. "Like this one. Promised to look over the bar for a good sum and yet did nothing but drink while your friend had fun trashing it. I feel cheated really."

"The agreement was for me to look over the bar. Not to fight for it. There's a difference…I think." Nic deadpanned but didn't move to get the hand off her. Helmut could feel her gaze burning holes in his skin. He readjusted his pose ever so slightly, hoping to get rid of the feeling entirely if he moved a couple of muscles. It didn't work.

"Funny thing aren't you." Selby chuckled and leaned to grab one of the small packets off the table. "Be a dear and make yourself useful. Our friends in Azimut are offering a share for B163.9. I think they're blowing smoke up my eyes but I was in a good mood that day. Tell me what you think."

Helmut clenched his jaw and shared a glance with James. The longer they stayed, the more difficult it would become to maintain their cover. The opening snap of the bag brought everyone's attention back to Nic. She shifted in her seat, pulling a key out of her pocket.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what she would do next. Helmut cleared his throat and picked different points of interest to look at around the office. He resisted the urge to shift more in his seat or start tapping his fingers. Whatever the young woman was, his stomach rebelled at the thought of watching her snort the powder. Her appearance alone was too close for him to clearly draw the line and separate the two girls. It didn't matter that his Nic would never reach the age this woman in front of him was, would never end up in a sleazy office in Madripoor, snorting God knows what. It didn't stop his blood from freezing in place and a massive pit forming in his stomach.

Helmut settled on looking at Selby instead. He had to concentrate on her or else he wasn't sure if he could keep the content of his stomach in place. It was too similar, too close to home for his mind not to start messing with him with the 'what if' scenarios.

The ride home was dead silent. Helmut was sure that if he clenched the wheel any harder, the leather surrounding it would rip and break. The bright beam-lights of Ivana 's Range Rover Evoque lit up the road in front of him as he sped through the empty streets. He was grateful that there was no other cars around as he wasn't completely sure that he wouldn't murder someone on the spot given the chance.

"Daddy?" Nic pulled his attention from the countless racing thoughts in his head.

"Hmm?" He frowned and tilted his head towards her, not taking his eyes off the road. He needed to concentrate on something else.

"Are you mad?"

"No." Sometimes you had to lie to your children to protect them. He was quite familiar with that concept. Certain matters were best kept hidden. Truths of what his job really entailed, the rumors of human experimentation in outside city facilities, reasons why their country was always on a brink of war or governmental collapse. So what was a small lie about how he felt compared to the never-ending list of half-truths and outright lies he told?

"Are you sure?"

"Don't close your eyes. You'll only make yourself dizzy." He changed the subject instead. He cast a glance at her curled up on the seat and with a sigh, placed his hand on her shoulder. He squeezed it in a warning. The last thing he needed was her freaking out if she started to feel sick.

Helmut had only needed to take one glance at her and instinctively know that it wasn 't just alcohol running through her system. He didn't need proper lighting to know her pupils were still blown out of proportion or look at the way she grounded her jaw to confirm his suspicion.

"I feel sick."

"I bet you do," He muttered under his breath, too low for her to hear. Nonetheless, he pressed down gently on the brakes bringing the car to a smooth stop. "Let's get you some air."

Nic clumsily reached for the door handle and pulled it hard enough that it slipped from her grip and made a loud noise sliding back in place. It took her few tries to actually pry the doors open.

Hearing the door shut, he closed his eyes and leaned further into his seat. Dragging his hand over his face did very little to help him relax the tension that slipped into his bones ever since he answered her call. He could already feel the beginning of a migraine forming.

Helmut sighed deeply and unclipped his seatbelt. He couldn 't let her leave his eyesight for too long. Who the hell knew what she could think of doing in the drug-induced mind. Clearly, there wasn't much thinking involved that got her in this state in the first place. He had to swallow the urge to demand for answers that she most likely would not be able to think of. 'Later', he had to remind himself. They needed to get home first.

Helmut walked around the car from the back and found her sitting on the gravel with knees pulled to her chest. Even with his jacket over whatever it was that she was wearing, she was barely covered. He had no doubt that the gravel that dug into her skin would be painful tomorrow. God, that was never how he wanted to see her.

Slowly crouching down, he put his hand on her shoulder again, feeling it shake under his touch. He brought his other hand into her hair, and stroked it lightly, in an attempt to calm her down. Of course, she ended up freaking herself out. That was what tended to happen when you didn 't think your actions through. Hearing her breath hitch, he forced any emotion he might have felt to leave his voice and moved in closer, dropping down to one of his knees. The gravel was a bitch.

"You're fine. Look at me," He moved his hands to cup her face, tapping her cheek lightly to keep her attention on him for long enough to calm down. "You're okay. Don't work yourself up. It will pass."

She gripped his shirt and lurched herself into his chest, almost knocking him backward. Grunting lightly, he wrapped his arms around her shaking form and let her destroy his shirt with makeup, tears, and snot.

"Come on, mom is waiting for us at home." He encouraged her softly and kissed the side of her head. "I'm sure she has some tea ready for us. That sound good?"

He felt her nod against him and waited a couple of moments before pulling away.

Getting her inside and not waking the entire house was another feat. It seemed that she was hellbent on being as loud as humanly possible. Even with him supporting most of her weight, she found ways to almost trip or knock something off.

"Hey," Ivana greeted them as she stepped from the kitchen into the hall. Her eyes widened at the sight of them. "Whoa."

"Mom!" Nic half screamed into his ear, making him wince in pain.

"Nic!" He hissed in warning. He was this close to snapping entirely. "Carl is asleep, don't be loud."

She turned and looked at him with a wobbly lip and eyes sparkling with tears. Helmut swallowed, feeling the pang of guilt pass him. No, he had no reason to feel guilty. But just because he knew something logically didn 't mean that her expression didn't pierce through his heart.

"Here, I'll put her to bed," Ivana interrupted approaching them and wrapping one of Nic's arms around her shoulder, taking some of the weight off him. "You take a breath."

"I'm fine." He bit out harsher than he meant. Taking a breath in, he glanced at them. "Give a shout if you need help."

It took him longer than a moment to actually let go fully and let Ivana take over. Rubbing his neck, he walked up the stairs to their shared bedroom and dug through the drawers of his bedside table until he found a half-full packet of cigarette carton with a lighter shoved inside.

He took it and walked out into the balcony, leaving the door half-open behind him. He closed his eyes as he brought the bud to his lips and inhaled the smoke deeply into his lungs. Only then could he feel his shoulders releasing some of the tension that he carried. He eventually reopened his eyes, not really looking at anything.

"You're smoking." Helmut eventually heard Ivana behind him but didn't turn to her. At least she didn't sound annoyed.

"Yeah," He mumbled as she joined him and leaned against the railing. "I'll take a shower before I come back to bed."

"I'll let it pass for tonight." She looked him up and down and slightly arched her eyebrow. "Although, do make sure you throw that shirt into a wash. I don't even want to know what's on it."

Helmut could tell she was trying to lighten up his mood but he wasn't sure it was possible at that minute. There were too many emotions swirling under the surface. He wasn't a stranger to saying something in a heat of a moment and then regretting it as soon as it came out of his mouth. Half of their early arguments as a new couple consisted of that. So he kept his mouth shut until he got himself under control. Ivana understood his needs, sometimes more than he did himself, and let him brood in his own misery until he finished his first cigarette and tossed it away.

He sighed deeply and finally turned his head to look at her. She stood beside him in a rich blue, silk dressing gown and some fluffy slippers. For a moment he wondered if it wasn't too cold to stand on a balcony in the middle of the night. A twinge of guilt passed through him. He didn't want his own restlessness to make her cold.

"Am I away from home that often? Going through abandoned bunkers, this. Is this some sort of cry for help or attention? What else don't I know? She secretly dating a fifty-year-old man too?" He pondered, the words rolling off his tongue the moment he opened his mouth. Perhaps he opened his mouth too soon. He stretched out his arm, going for the carton that he threw to the side but she blocked it and took his hand in her own instead.

"She messed up." Ivana agreed quietly, rubbing her fingers against his knuckles.

"She's fifteen, lied where she was, drank and got high off her rockets. I think it constitutes more than just a mess up." He barked out. Fuck. He needed another cigarette.

Untangling his hand free of her hold, this time she didn't stop him as he reached for the carton and pulled out another cigarette before lighting it up again. After a couple of moments of silence, he swapped hands and extended his left for her to hold again. He needed something to ground him.

"I'm not disagreeing with you, love." She reminded him, lacing their fingers together. "But she did call you when she felt unsafe. That counts for something."

"So what? We should congratulate her on making a single sane decision in the mess that she created herself?"

"No one is saying that, Helmut. But maybe you are being a bit too harsh," Ivana said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He leaned further against the turning in their balcony, exhaling harshly the smoke out of his chest, causing his throat to burn. "She is a teenager after all. They are not exactly known for making the best choices."

"I'm not too hard on her. If anything, I'm clearly not hard enough on her. Hell if I called my father after pulling these kinds of stunts he would have skinned me alive for disrespecting the family name."

"I'd rather have our daughter mess up and know she can call us than her hiding out god knows where out of fear." She chastised him, her tone hardening. It snapped him out of his tirade long enough to realize the implications of what he said.

"My apologies," He lowered his head in shame at even the notion of it. "It wasn't what I intended to say."

"I have been by your side long enough to know what you mean and don't mean. I know you're angry."

"Of course I'm angry. You didn't see her in that dingy bathroom with skimpy clothes, eyes blown wide. It wasn't just some weed she smoked, that's for sure. Besides where did she even pick up such clothes?" Even talking about it made his skin crawl with dread. He brought the cigarette to his mouth yet again, needing the calm. Chain-smoking was a habit that he picked up years ago all the way back when he was just a private, and needed nicotine in stressful situations. This definitely constituted a stressful situation.

Ivana didn't respond, just kept rubbing his shoulder. Her lack of anger was starting to get under his skin. Almost made him feel like he was in the wrong. He wasn't, not this time.

"Why aren't you angry?" He finally asked.

"Of course I'm angry Helmut, I'm furious. But right now, Nic is in bed and you need me more."

Her words, spoken with such gentleness, forced him to turn to her and really look at her. Here she was, in the middle of the night, listening to his ramblings and quietening down all his inner turmoils. What would he ever do without her? There was no way in hell he ever deserved her.

He clenched his jaw a couple of times as he tried to find the words to somehow justify his behavior. To justify the tornado of rage and absolute fear that swirled inside him. In the end, he settled on:

"A girl died a week ago, overdosing on shit like this."

"I know."

"All I can imagine is that being her," He sighed, rubbing his eyes until he saw stars. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get it out of his head. It was like the idea itself tried to choke the life out of him. "Of getting a call like that in the middle of the night. Instead of the one we got tonight. I can't. I really can't."

Ivana sighed and wrapped her arms around him, stepping on her tippy toes to land her chin on his shoulder. "We won't. You know we won't. She made a mistake and she is sorry about it. We'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Together."

Helmut felt her fingers slowly run through his hair, easing some pressure off his chest. Not enough to let it go entirely, but just enough for him to feel like he could go back inside.

"Well, she's a sad drunk just like you. That's for sure." His attempt to finally lighten the mood felt flat even to his own ears. Nevertheless, she chuckled and slapped his chest lightly in a warning.

"Watch yourself. One more comment and I'll have you sleeping on the couch." She smiled and turned to go back inside but he tugged her back into his hold before she had a chance.

"I love you." He told her, meaning every word. He loved her, truly. He doubted that he would ever find enough words to express just how much he adored her.

"And I love you. Now come on, let's go back to bed. You can be mad at her tomorrow." She took his hand and pulled him back inside their room.

"You go ahead, I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

"You better." She pointed a finger at him. "And seriously, lose the shirt. Preferably into the trash. It's disgusting."

For once he didn't disagree with her opinion on clothes. He doubted he would ever be able to get the stains and the stench out of the material.

"Nothing special for the price. I'd go for the Stironium that Joy offers. Basically the same thing but cheaper. " Nic's voice snapped him back to reality. Swallowing, he spared a glance at her, half expecting her to look drugged up. He didn't delude himself, knowing where he was. Narcotics in Madripoor hit a completely different level. It was more like a ticking Russian Roulette. You were considered lucky if you were alive by the morning.

To his surprise, the woman didn't even look dazed let alone under the influence. That was…an interesting piece of information to know.

"I knew it," Selby sighed and nodded to one of the men who promptly left the office. Her attention returned to him. "What was your offer again?"

"Tell us what you know about the Super-Soldier serum." Helmut proposed and stood up. He circled behind James, touching him just enough to show that he was the one in control. As expected, James did not move or wince as he trailed his hands down his face. "And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want."

"Now that's the Zemo I remember." Selby gleamed at the prospect of his offer. Helmut nodded, pleased. "I'm glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right."

With his job of selling the bait complete, he returned to his seat. He nodded in thanks as Nic moved her legs out of his way.

"The Super-Soldier Serum is here in Madripoor. You're looking at one example right in front of you." Selby confirmed his speculation and pointed at Nic lazily.

Helmut struggled briefly to keep his face straight. The woman in front of him did not look like a Super Soldier, if anything she looked very much like a regular person. Well, as normal as a person could be when they looked older version of someone else. But human. Nothing like the ones that he killed in Siberia.

Besides, Selby looked eager when he offered up James. Why would she want him if she already had a Super Soldier working for her? He supposed James was pretty handsome for a man but he doubted that she would be interested in him that way. The Selby he knew was always interested in finding use out of a situation or a person, not to take a personal interest.

Too many things weren't adding up.

"Doctor Nigel is the man you want to thank or condemn," Selby released a dramatic sigh, cocking her head to the side. "Depending on what side of this you're on."

"She's your pet?" Helmut asked curiously. He had so many questions about this Nic, but couldn't ask any of them without giving himself away.

"In a way. Power Broker's toy. Such a pretty thing, lethal too if you can afford her." The way she said, with such glee, made a shiver go down his back. She cast her eyes at Sam. "you know all about that don't you, Smiling Tiger?"

"Don't need to tell me." Sam mustered up all could in sounding confident for which Helmut was thankful. But Selby didn't seem to want to let up.

"You're taller than I'd heard."

"It's the shoes." Nic intervened and loosely crossed her arms, kicking up her foot against his couch. If he didn't know better he would say that it was a subtle attempt to lock him in his place. Was she playing something? He couldn't figure out her angle. Not yet, anyway.

"You had plenty of business with him didn't you?" Selby raised her eyebrow at Nic who merely nodded. "Can you confirm it's him?"

Helmut stiffened up, slowly moving his hand closer to his pockets, ready for a fight. He wondered if he would be able to grab the gun off the table quicker than Selby. Any moment now, their cover would be blown. He doubted the security would hesitate in shooting them. Nic stood up and slowly walked over from the couch to Sam. She circled around him like a cheetah ready to play with her food before devouring it.

She walked right up to Sam until there was almost no space between them and looked up. Helmut was ready to pray to the God he had long abandoned if it kept Sam from blowing their cover by stepping back. They were so close to knowing what they needed, it would be nice if they could leave this place without being shoved inside a body bag. He watched with a bated breath as she tilted her head and clicked her tongue.

"Oh, it's him."

Helmut was not expecting that. He looked up to James who also wore a similar expression of surprise. She was covering for them? Why? He doubted she really believed Sam to be Conrad Mack, she gave them more than enough indication that she suspected at least something.

"Good." Selby flashed her teeth as she turned to Helmut. "Had to ask. Too many fakes running around ever since the Blip."

Yeah, like the one sitting right in front of him who just lied about the identity of the Smiling Tiger.

"The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but… things didn't go as planned."

"Is Nagel still in Madripoor?"

"Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you." Selby teased him, raising up. "And before you get all cute, don't think you can find Nagel without me."

Helmut pursed his lips. She was right, people like him loved to hide out in the dark, work off-grid in their own little dungeons. He despised the Frankenstein wannabes, too deluded in their own ideals to see the lines that shouldn't be crossed.

Selby just about passed by Sam when a sudden buzzing noise brought the office to a standstill. It appeared that everyone held in their breath as the vibration rang out again. All eyes turned to Sam who dug into his jacket to retrieve his phone.

Fuck. Fuck. Did he seriously not turn off his phone? Helmut looked away exasperated and his eyes landed on Nic just in time to see her stiffened in her seat and clench her jaw. If Sam blew their cover and Selby realized that she covered for them, for whatever reason, she'd be just in as much hot water as they would.

In conclusion, this was very bad for all of them.

"Answer it. On speaker." Selby ordered as the phone continued to vibrate in Sam's hand. James moved behind Selby as the guards stepped up closer to Sam. Helmut glanced around the place, looking for any possible exit routes or what they could use to defend themselves. If they were ever going to get out of here alive, he was going to feed him nothing but expired food, that was for sure. Did he really need to spell it out for them every little precaution when going into a bad place? What kind of moron didn't turn off his ring tone when going undercover?

"Hello?" Sam answered.

"Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation. It's been drivin' me nuts."

"What situation exactly are you talkin' about?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nic move to the center of the couch as she watched the interaction.

"Are you high? You know what situation, it's the only situation me and you have."

Their eyes met as Nic reached for the gun on the table while everyone's attention was focused on Sam and put it in the inside pocket of her jacket before leaning back. She continued to watch him with a cold gaze as she ran her hand through the right side of her face and settled her fingers over her mouth.

He barely heard it. Perhaps he even imagined it happening at all. Maybe she simply coughed. But at that moment, he was certain that she uttered 'grasshopper' in Sokovian.

The call, Sam, Selby; they all became muted. Mere background noise as his whole body froze up on the spot. There was ringing in his ears. Or was it his own heartbeat that was banging against his eardrums? He wasn't sure. A sudden chill swept through him as if a cold wind cut through his skin. The word was not meant for him. He most likely was not even meant to hear it in the first place.

His brain screamed at him to snap out of it. To get himself back in order before he was riddled with bullets. But even blinking felt like an impossible feat. How was he meant to pay attention to what was going on around him? A fleeting, treasonous, thought crossed his mind. Did it even matter if he ended up with a bullet in his head before he had a chance to fight back? No. He still had a job to do. He needed to finish it before he gave in any temptation.

"If that was the case, then why'd they dog you out, Big Time?"

It felt like forever when he finally zoned back into his surroundings. Right. Sam was about to blow their cover. This woman in front of him was or at least knew Sokovian while looking like his daughter. James did what he did best, and stared at Sam.

Wait. Who was she talking to? Was she wired? Who the hell was on the other end?

Helmut tilted his head ever so slightly as Selby walked behind him. From experience, he did not enjoy someone standing behind when he was not in control of the room. Even now, it made his skin crawl with dread. She was circling them like they were the prey.

"Yeah, you damn right I'm Big Time. You'll see when I have that banker killed."

"Cass! What'd I tell you about the Cheerios?" Helmut inhaled sharply. They were done. "I don't have time for this! Sam, I'm sorry. I'll call you back."

The pressure in the air dropped. Selby raised her eyebrow, surprised.

"Sam? Who's Sam?"

"Now." Nic hissed out at the same time as Selby shouted "Kill them!"

Nic ripped the pistol out of her jacket and jumped up. She aimed and pulled the trigger. The sound of that first bullet leaving the chamber pierced through his eardrums. Multiple shots followed, as well as a window shattering into millions of shards. A man in the very back of the office dropped with dead weight.

The second's hesitation, the shock of surprise that passed through the guards, gave just enough time for Sam and James to overpower them. Helmut leaped from his seat as they fought for the weapons, there was no moment to waste.

Nic jumped over the corner of the couch to the table. Slapping the mask over her face she pulled the table apart. By the time that everyone was either knocked out or dead, she had thrown a backpack over her shoulders and secured it over her chest.

James pointed the gun as the doors to the office opened.

"Whoa." A woman with glasses entered the office. It took her one look inside to raise her hands up in surrender. "Wait I-"

"Nothing personal, it's just business." Nic responded and pulled the trigger before James could.

"They're gonna pin this on us," Sam informed them as he looked at Helmut. As if he didn't know that himself.

"We have a real problem now," He sighed thinking of what they could do. Maybe if they managed to sneak out unnoticed, they'd have just enough time to hide out and eventually get out of Low Town. It was their best chance. "so leave your weapons and follow my lead."

"We have roughly two minutes before every single mercenary gets an alert for a bounty. She was on the no kill list." Nic briefed them as she walked over to them with a phone in hand.

"Two minutes?" Helmut couldn't help but smirk. "A lot can be done in two minutes."

=====

By the time they made it to the streets and turned a corner, Nic's phone chimed up.

"We are about to have a lot of company," Nic called out and held up her phone. It had two notifications:

Messenger | now.

'Selby dead. B1k BOUNTY for her killers.'

Veron | now.

'58324 Ridge Tow. 7 minutes.'

Helmut would have loved to ask about the second message if they weren't about to become biggest practice targets to about every single lowlife in the city.

"What's the plan now?" James bit out as they marched down the street. More and more phones chimed up. Eyes followed their every move.

"Follow me and you might stand a chance," Nic replied, pulling a hood over her head.

"How do we know you're not just going to shoot us? You just said Selby was on the no-kill list and you shot her."

"Oh, you don't. But I am your only hope of staying alive."

"This is not good," Helmut warned, he could see the bystanders arming themselves. They had no choice but to place their trust in her.

The street light went out underneath them and a man pointed a gun at them. Shots rang out behind them.

"Through here," Nic shouted, ducking from the fire. She took a sharp turn behind a parked van that Helmut barely managed not to miss. They sprinted through a small alleyway in between the buildings.

"Why are you helping us?" He called out as they passed yet another turn, barely keeping up with her.

"An interested party is paying a lot of money to keep you alive." She responded and slowed down ever so slightly. As if she noticed that he couldn't keep up with a Super-Soldier speed. She frowned looking behind him. "Are your friends able to follow any basic instructions?"

Helmut looked back as well. Sam and James were nowhere to be seen.

"Not particularly." He sighed, shrugging. "Who is this interested party?"

She did not reply to him. Instead, she tapped her right ear as she held the pistol and slowly walked over to the end of the alleyway.

"We have a problem." She snapped into what he assumed was an earpiece.

"Oh?"

"Forty seconds."

Wordlessly she passed her gun to him and pulled out a blade that he could not recognize in the dim light. She moved out of the alleyway into the open. He followed suit with the gun raised but had no time to see where she ran off to.

Helmut aimed at whoever stood in front of him just as Sam and James cut the corner and appeared into the view. The goon dropped dead before he could pull the trigger. Startled, he squinted to see where the shot came from.

He turned at the sound of motorbikes approaching them. Another shot rang out, right as Nic popped out and dragged the goon off the bike to the floor. He did not rise again.

"You seem to have a guardian angel." Helmut broke the silence, surprised, as he walked up to them.

"Well, this is too perfect. Drop it, Zemo." A voice behind him made him jump and turn around. With the gun in his face, he had no choice but to bend down and slowly put the gun on the floor.

"Sharon?" James faltered, recognizing her. He knew her. A friend?

"You cost me everything." The woman, Sharon, growled at him with the gun still pointed to him. Helmut cocked his eyebrow. Did he? He could not recall ever meeting her before. He raised his hands in surrender and took a step back.

"Sharon, wait." Sam interjected, stepping closer to him. "Someone recreated the Super-Soldier serum and Zemo had a lead."

He was defending him? How sweet. Helmut would have made a witty comment if his life wasn't hanging by a thread. He turned his head to see Nic walking up to them from behind. The knife that she carried had spots of blood on it.

Helmut swallowed nervously. The woman in front of him clearly held a grudge against him and the woman behind him, well he had not the slightest idea what she wanted. Who was to say that they weren't about to end his existence at a moment's notice.

"That explains why you guys are here. And Selby's dead." She gave a pointed look at Nic who just shrugged.

"In my defense, this one did not think to turn off his phone."

"So what are you doing here?" Sam asked, changing the attention away from himself. Helmut wondered if he was embarrassed that he forgot to do such a basic task. He hoped that he was.

"I stole Steve's shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass, so that you could save him from him. I didn't have the Avengers to back me up. So I'm off the grid in Madripoor." Oh. So that's why she didn't like him. Even though it was hardly his fault.

"Don't blow smoke. I was on the run, too."

"Was. Is. Big difference. I don't speak to my family anymore. I can't. My own father doesn't know where I am."

Helmut looked around uncomfortably. He didn't particularly care about their reunion. Especially when they were still out on the open and could be spotted at any moment.

"Listen… Sharon, we need your help." James said, causing the woman to chuckle.

"Please." He added for the good measure.

Sharon sighed and looked behind them where Nic stood around.

"You alright?"

"Never been better," Nic called out. Even with his back turned to her, he could tell she was smirking.

"This isn't over. I have a place in High Town. You'll be safe there for a while."

Helmut shared a look with Sam and James and nodded. Getting a ride to High Town would be safer for them than navigating their way back to the safe house themselves. The bounty on their heads would not go away anytime soon.

"I'll follow by." Nic nodded to them and walked over to the motorbikes that sat empty. Kicking one of the bodies out of her way, she turned on the engine.

Helmut intended to trail behind them but Sam grabbed his shoulder and roughly moved him to the front, preventing him from seeing Nic take off. He still had so many questions and about zero answers when it came to her. Not knowing something was not his style.

The ride from Low Town was just as quiet but more relaxing than their last one. He imagined that having company that did not try to kill them at any chance they got helped.

Glancing at the side mirror, he saw that a single motorbike was close, trailing behind them.

"Your friend," Helmut opened his mouth, hoping to get even a grain of information. "Nic. Who-"

"Shut up, Zemo." Sam snarled from the back as he leaned into the seat's headrest and closed his eyes.

Helmut raised an eyebrow watching him through the rear mirror. At first, he assumed that the hostility was from the adrenaline of having a whole town trying to feed them bullets. But enough time passed for them to settle down and take a breath in. So there had to be another reason for the snappiness.

Helmut racked his brain through the day's events that would result in such behavior. He had to admit a lot did occur in the space of the twenty-four hours.

Oh?

Perhaps his intuition was correct and there was something going on between these two men. It would definitely explain the constant staring at each other. If he was right, he could imagine that Sam did not take lightly at the prospect of him trying to sell off James. Not that he actually wanted or planned to do it. He had hoped it would not come to that point anyway. James was much more useful to have around than not.

====

Their car pulled in front of a gated building that was surrounded by guards. Helmut had to admit, he was impressed. Not many people would be able to afford such a place, especially in High Town. He followed closely behind Sharon as they walked inside.

The inside was as over the top and sleek as he imagined it would be. They passed through numerous paintings that he had no doubt were the real copies and other artifacts. So she was a hustler then.

"Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well." Sam chuckled looking around.

"I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I'll get for a real Monet?" Sharon explained, leading them further in.

"Also it helps that a lot of high-paying idiots do not realize the real value of art and are willing to overpay," Nic added passing them all.

"Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets."

"No. She means real." Helmut interjected, having some experience with places like these. Ivana had picked Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2 by Marcel Duchamp to hang in their living room by the fireplace. "This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics."

"It's true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this." Even James reaffirmed their point.

"Okay, guys, I see what you're doing. You're more worldly than good old Sam." Sam rolled his eyes and proceeded to Google it.

"Yeah. What's Google say?" James asked sarcastically.

"No shit."

Helmut glanced at them. They fell behind, referring to bicker with each other than to follow them. Definitely had to be fucking.

"Come on. You guys need to change. I'm hosting clients in an hour." Sharon sighed exasperated.

====

Helmut helped himself to the open bar while James and Sam tried to pick what to wear for the evening. There was no way he would exchange the comfort of his own clothes to whatever Sharon had in stock. He already looked the part anyway. It was one of the many advantages of having a good taste in fashion.

Nic apparently had a similar idea as she threw the backpack by James and joined him at the bar. Wordlessly, Helmut passed her a glass and proceeded to pour himself a good amount of scotch. He would need a lot of it if he even wanted to begin to untangle the mess. Ignoring her existence seemed to be the easier option at the moment.

"Much better." Sharon made a comment as she passed Sam who kept changing his mind on what shirt to wear. His indecisiveness started to grate on Helmut's nerves. Even he didn't take this long to choose a shirt and he was called a fashion diva on numerous occasions.

Sharon sat down beside James and took the bag on her lap. She unzipped it and looked up at Nic with a grin.

"You think you can push it?"

"I know I can." Nic replied smugly and rose the glass to her mouth.

"Hold up," Sam interrupted turning to them with a simple turtle neck in his arms. Helmut crinkled his nose. Really? All this time for a plain turtleneck? "What exactly do you do? Cause you are sending mixed messages with the killing and saving our asses."

"I do whatever you can afford me to do." Nic grinned and looked him up and down as if to make a point. Helmut cringed at the suggestive tone of her voice. It made him uncomfortable to even think of what it could entail. Whether she did look like his daughter or not, it felt wrong. He doubted she was much older than twenty. Practically a kid.

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably, getting a similar image as he did.

"So what?" He asked Sharon, putting the shirt over his head. "You have a lot of people that need to be murdered on your list?"

"Oh, no." Sharon chuckled. "We're friends. I just buy her out whenever I can to mostly chill. Her being able to sell crap to others on the side are just an added bonus."

"Who is the Power Broker now?" Helmut asked as he held the glass in his hands. He doubted it was the same person from when he dealt with him. People in places like Madripoor usually did not reach pension age.

"Depend on which division you want to talk to." Sharon shrugged. "It's not a single entity anymore but more like a big umbrella organization. Even then, you don't really know who you speak to. Suppose it's easier to hold on to power that way."

"You seem like you know a lot about how this place operates. What's going on, Sharon? You don't ever wanna come back home?" Sam frowned, sitting down on the couch opposite of her.

"They'll lock me up if I step foot back in the States. Madripoor doesn't allow extradition." Sharon sighed, standing up and walking over to another table to pick something up. Helmut watched her, noticing that she did not sit in one place for too long. Interesting. He wondered for a second if perhaps she had some form of ADHD or if it was just her body language betraying discomfort.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't call, but after The Blip and the chaos, I just…"

"Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it's all hypocrisy."

"He knows. And not so deep down." Helmut commented, bringing everyone's attention to him. He raised his glass in fake salute.

"By the way, how is the new Cap?"

"He sounds annoying." Nic interjected. She raised her eyebrow as he looked up at her. "What? It's Madripoor, not a cave. We do keep up with international news."

"Don't get me started." James grumbled, turning his head away.

"Please." Sharon scoffed, settling down beside James again. "You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit. Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap's best friend."

Well, that was offensive. To both him and James.

"Wow. She's kind of awful now." James bit out dryly.

"You get used to it." Nic retorted as she poured herself another drink.

"Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum." Sam spoke, playing with his collar. Either the scotch was really good or the day was getting to him, but if Sam kept messing with his attire one more time he wasn't sure he will be able to control himself enough not to strangle him.

Perhaps he was still annoyed at Sam for not turning off his phone.

"You guys really should steer clear of all of this for your own safety."

"We know it's a risk, but we won't leave until we find the one who cracked the code."

"We got a name. Wilfred Nagel." James added.

Sharon shared a look with Nic before rising once again.

"Nagel works for the Power Broker."

Helmut moved out of her way the moment he saw her walk in his direction. He glanced at the empty seat by a glass table and chose to sit there. It was close enough that he could still see them. The only downside was that Nic was directly in his sight now. With no imminent danger to his life, it was harder to concentrate on other matters and not let his mind run miles away. The longer he looked at her, the more exhausted he felt. Weariness seeped into his bones. He focused on the glass in his hands, running his fingertips through the golden strip.

"We need your help, Sharon. I can get your name cleared."

"You haggling with my life?"

"Not like that."

Helmut frowned. He didn't particularly care for their conversation. Or whether Sharon cleared her name. He was itching to get out, preferably as far away from Nic as possible. Maybe he could drink himself stupid until he forgot ever meeting her. Or until he started to believe that it was just his mind playing tricks on him and he simply slapped Nic's face over someone who shared her name.

That was going to take a lot of alcohol. It had been years since the last time that he got so drunk he passed out. Ironically, alcohol never made him forget, if anything it made the noise in his head so much louder.

He stopped paying attention to their conversation. It became a background noise as he zoned out. Even the glass that he kept staring at blurred away.

"I don't buy that. You pretending like you can clear my name."

"Okay, maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you're right. What happened to you. But I'm willing to try if you are. They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he's met."

"I heard that."

"I don't trust charity."

A pair of boots in his vision snapped him back. He blinked and looked up to see Nic standing in front of him.

"Sorry. Kind of need that." She pointed at the chest that was on the table.

"Of course." He gave her a polite smile and moved his chair to the side so she could grab it.

He gulped as the perfume hit his senses again. It felt weird. Wrong. His Nic always stole Ivana's perfumes that had some sweet combination of coconut, vanilla and touch of floral notes. She had a habit of spraying just a touch too much.

This was too harsh of a scent on her.

Not her. A stranger. Nic was dead. He should not compare how this woman smelled to how she used to. He had no business judging.

His eyes followed her as she walked off with the chest in her arm as if it weighed nothing and stopped by the stairs.

Sharon put her drink down with thud and straightened up.

"Well, I sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay outta trouble. I'll see what I can find."

"Trouble." Helmut blurted out sarcastically and shrugged. He watched as the two women climbed up the stairs and left his sight.

"She means you." Sam gave him a pointed look.

"Why is she mad at me again?" Helmut asked as he got up and moved back to the yellow couches. Sam sat down beside James with a drink in hand. They had some time to kill before the party began.

"You don't remember?" Sam scoffed into his drink.

"Sam, if I tried to remember every single person that I may or may not have inconvenienced directly or indirectly, it would be a very long list and we'd spend a long time sitting around."

"Can't believe I'm saying this again. But it's not the time for arguments." James groaned out and let his head fall onto the back of the couch, almost like the idea itself was paining him.

"Alright. But I swear to God if you even move out of our sight for one second. I will send your ass right back to jail before you can make some stupid remark."

"I have no intention of inconveniencing you that much." Helmut smirked. "But be my guest and enjoy the party, I'm simply going to observe some individuals. No tricks."

"No. See, if we are doing this," Sam protested pointing to the three of them. "We need to know that you are not going to stab us in the back the first chance you get. So you gotta be honest with us, and tell us what the hell you're playing at."

"I told you before, I'm here to end the Super Soldiers serum. Nothing more, nothing less." Seeing the doubt on their faces, Helmut sighed in defeat. "And also figure out who the hell the woman your friend hanging out with is."

"You suspect she isn't just Sharon's friend." James guessed, crossing his arms as he stared at him.

Helmut threw back the glass, swallowing the last of it's contents. With the familiar burn that went down his throat, he pulled out his phone from the inside of his jacket and unlocked it. It didn't take long to search up his personal ICloud storage and enter the password. His phone lit up with multiple folders of pictures and documents that he had on his old phone. He clicked on the 'Pictures' folder, somewhat grateful that the contents of it were grouped by dates and had random strings of letters for its names instead of the actual pictures itself. It wasn't something he could deal with today.'Or ever' his mind supplied ever so helpfully.

He didn't need to scroll far to find the pictures dated back to February 2015. Mainly because he stopped taking pictures past May 2015.

In that February, he managed to pull enough strings with his Lieutenant General to get a couple of weeks off at the same time that Nic and Carl had holidays off school. Ivana wanted to go to Switzerland for the ski season while he wanted to go somewhere warm. After a few days of deliberation, they settled on and ended up flying out to Barbados for couple of days.

Helmut hesitated. It had been years since he saw their faces. Dread settled in his gut as he pressed to open the pictures. He did not give himself enough time to look at the pictures. Just tiniest of flashes as he scrolled through the few landscape shots before he found a picture where Nic was in it.

"This was my daughter, Nic," He told them, raising his phone away from himself and for them to see. "Looks familiar?"

Ivana had her arms wrapped around Nic's shoulders while Nic made a face at the camera. In the picture, Nic was with a mess of brown, wet curls that dropped down her back. She was younger, scrawnier, still with some baby fat in her cheeks but it was impossible not to see the similarities between the girl in the picture and the woman that they just met today. Apart from the haircut and the years, they were identical.

"Oh shit." Sam swore, zooming into the picture.

"Any chance it is her?" James asked looking up from the phone to him.

"I buried what was left of her years ago James. Collapsed buildings and flying ruble do not leave much behind." Helmut clenched his jaw. "But I am pretty certain that it is impossible."

"So either it's the biggest coincidence in the world that we met someone with exactly the same looks and name or either someone is behind this." Sam concluded passing the phone back to him.

"My thoughts exactly." He pocketed the phone back. "I simply wish to find whoever thought this was a funny joke and have a chat with them."

James and Sam shared a look. They did not believe a word of that.

"Alright," James sighed. "We'll see what we can find out before we leave this place."

====

Thank you so much for all the notes. I'm so glad you liked the previous chapters and hope you'll enjoy this too :) xx

#tfatws #zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo fic #marvel #the falcon and the winter soldier #fanicti #zemo's family

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aidemint · 4 years ago

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐩 - 𝐒𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: None!

There was always a boy with peach-colored hair that I would see in the village.

From the confines of my house, I would stare out the window and watch him meander about the streets of the city. He would always be clad in patterned robes with a mask strapped to his head, and a sword tied to his belt. I always wondered what it was for. Perhaps he was a samurai, like the ones I'd read about in the old storybooks, though he didn't quite look the part.

But one could dream.

As time passed, and the world grew older, I noticed that he was now accompanied by a smaller girl with jet-black locks. They would run together and weave through crowds without a care in the world. She looked younger, and wore an outfit with a similar design as his. A younger sister, I reckoned.

The more that I observed them, the more I would feel a certain emptiness inside my chest. I would get lost in my own thoughts more often, pointlessly staring at my hands as I curled and uncurled my fingers, watching pieces of my butterfly skin flake off and settle on the cuffs of my kimono.

It stung, but my heart ached even more.

I'd always wanted someone to keep me company.

It was a nice thought, something that provoked my imagination.

It helped me cope.

My condition was rare.

Though I was a whole being, I was forever cursed to live a wretched life filled with nothing but pain and agony. My skin would come off at the slightest movement or touch, which made washing myself or getting anywhere an extremely tedious task. And if the gods hadn't bound me to my hermit life enough, I had eyes that were not capable of rendering large amounts of light, which meant that I couldn't go out during the day if I didn't want to blind myself.

And I didn't want to lose my sense of sight, as it would mean no longer being able to see the peach-haired boy and his sister. So there was no other option for me. The day was detremental, and the night posed too many risks, with unimaginable monsters lurking around, so I had no choice but to remain as I was -- alone and weak.

I could only sit and watch the world pass by from the confines of my room, where I was forever trapped, cursed to my prison. As I had delicate skin and soft eyes that could not take in light, my flaws rendered me useless, and therefore I had to pay reparations to the world by staying inside.

There were many people that believed that I did something sinister in my past life, and that was the reason why I had so many imperfections now. In this age, it was commonplace to believe such a thing. I understood why they could even mention something as terrible as this, but couldn't help but feel sad at the thought.

Matters became even worse once my family got word of the rumor. Being especially spiritual, they immediately suspected me and made it their priority to discard the person that would bring bad omens into their family. They promptly left me with half of their savings and their old house, and moved away to somewhere else.

I tended to my belongings quite well and always cherished the little bits of home with gratitude, but I always missed them, despite never truly knowing who they were and what they looked like.

I hoped that they were well, without me.

But even though my family left, the rumor still remained, however, forever haunting me and my very existence. Speculations only grew as the years went by. The townspeople had somehow reached the conclusion that I had been cursed because my past life had not lived their existence justly.

Sometimes I would sit and wonder about it.

Was it really my fault?

Why did the gods condemn me so?

Had I really committed such a cardinal sin?

If I did, I think would've remembered it.

Most days were spent making woven goods that I sold to the townspeople in exchange for groceries and such things. On the mornings that the peach-haired boy came to town, I would wait for him by my window and patiently stare into the open until he came. He and his little sister would walk around the town, sometimes getting groceries, sometimes not. They looked happy when they were together outside, enjoying the many wonders of a fulfilled life.

How I longed to live like them.

But I wasn't truly in a position to complain, as there'd always be one person to stop by my house every once in a while.

Urokodaki always came to pay me a visit, which was nice. He would bring me miso soup and small bits of dried seaweed in exchange for woven baskets. Every month, he would even stay and tell me about his travels and tales from his life -- glimpses into the outside world that I never got to experience for myself.

And perhaps it was because he was so near and dear to me that I always drank the soup with fervor, making sure not to waste even the slightest drop. I hoped that if I appreciated it enough that it would never stop coming. I never wanted the stories to cease.

That bowl of miso soup was the only light of my life that my heart could hold without stopping.

I could never thank Urokodaki enough, even for such a small bowl of soup, but he seemed to be the gift that kept on giving.

One day he brought the peach-haired boy along.

When I opened to door to let the elder in, I gasped upon seeing him with the boy I'd watched for so long. Immediately starting to worry that the place was unfit for him to see, or that I looked too unruly, I accidentally strained my skin too much and tore a new gash into my shoulder. Wincing and biting back a cry, I tried to mask the pain, but relented as Urokodaki gently took my hand and led me inside so that he could bandage me.

At that moment, I knew that I would be unable to face the boy for the rest of the day. It was foolish of me to have hoped that another would be able to understand. Why should he try to understand? I was the town's hermit, a monster among the children, and a symbol of strife among the grown.

No words were exchanged that afternoon. We all just sat and ate, and after we had eaten, Urokodaki and the peach-haired boy departed. I cast no farewell gesture to the pair, only giving a small, sad smile to the elder has he exited my house.

Days passed and life went on in accordance to the usual schedule. It was boring, but served as a reassurance that nothing out of the ordinary would happen after that encounter with Urokodaki's student. But even if I was happy that my life was the same, I couldn't help but feel disappointed at myself. Subconsciously touching the bandage on my shoulder, I sighed while imagining what my life could have amounted to if I got to know the boy I'd been admiring for such a long time.

Cursing at myself, I angrily started to thread the reeds to a chair covering, fueled by the utter shame and regret in not jumping at the opportunity to know someone new. In doing so, I hadn't realized that someone was knocking on the door. The sounds from outside continued for a few minutes before I realized that they were there. Needless to say, I was particularly surprised. Urokodaki never came this early, and an unexpected visitor wasn't very common. Despite how unconventional a stranger was, they were always welcome.

I slowly got up to open the door and once I had unlocked it, I was met with an unanticipated face.

It was the peach-haired boy.

My eyes widened in shock, completely dumbfounded as to why he would come again. Had I not scared him off last time? I simply watched him as he awkwardly waited for a response from me. When I kept staring, he cleared his throat and decided to break the silence.

"Uh," he spoke, "Is it alright if I come in?" I blinked and immediately nodded slightly, moving as fast as I could to the side in order to let him in. He looked at my figure with a concerned expression while I shuffled to close the door behind him. It looked like he wanted to say something about it, but he refrained from it and moved to another topic.

"Is your wound doing alright?" he asked, matching my pace as we walked towards the table set in the middle of the closest room. I smiled at his consideration and felt a sudden tug at my heartstrings.

"Yeah, it doesn't hurt, so don't worry too much about it," I lied, "Besides, I get them all the time. I'm used to it." Despite this, the boy didn't look too assured, but chose not to press on.

When we got settled, he brought out the miso soup from his bag and set it on the table, along with two spoons and a small container of dried seaweed. I looked at the dish, anticipating it, but somehow, something didn't feel right. It felt like a stone had settled itself into my chest, weighing my insides down and putting my appetite to rest. Setting down my spoon, I gazed into the yellow-ish liquid and hesitated. This drew the attention of the pink-haired boy.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, wearing a small frown, "Have I done something wrong?" I shook my head gently, sighing and swallowing the dread that pooled in the pits of my stomach. There was one thing I needed to question him about. His response didn't matter, after everything I'd been through, but I needed closure.

"What do you think of me?"

The peach-haired boy looked confused.

"What do you mean?"

"After being in the village for some time, I imagine that you know what the people say about me." He went silent.

I had all the time in the world, so I waited. The boy seemed lost in thought, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his breath steady and lips pouted, in perhaps perfecting a reply that was sweet enough for my ears.

When five minutes went by, I asked him another, simpler, question in case he couldn't comprehend my comment about the village.

"You do know what tall tales about me the children tell each other, right?" He nodded. I maintained a small smile through the query, though my eyes got darker with every proceeding question.

"What are they?" I'd already recognized that he knew I was aware of the rumors. The peach-haired boy paused before answering in a soft tone.

"They say that you're cursed. They think that you're a monster." I hummed and returned to the main topic at hand after his reply. The words stung, but after the countless tears that had been shed over time, I learned to take them.

"So do you think the same?" I inquired, "Am I a monster, with my butterfly skin and delicate eyes? With my scars and-"

"I think you're beautiful."

Stopping, I locked gazes with him and stared in skepticism.

Are you mad? I wanted to shout, Is this some kind of sick joke? A fetish, maybe?

However, I withheld myself and stammered more questions.

"Why did you take such a long time in the beginning?" The peach-haired boy looked away, a rosy coloration dusting his cheeks.

"I didn't know if you would believe me or not." The tenseness in the atmosphere relieved itself at that moment. I began to feel my throat conjure weird bubbles and my shoulders start to hunch up. A chuckle burst out of my mouth unexpectedly, and louder ones followed after. My vision blurred as tears started to leak out of my eyes and spill onto the sides of my face. The peach-haired boy looked starstruck, watching me laugh.

Once I had finished, I looked at him, gingerly wiping the water droplets off of my cheeks and chin, my irises clear and sparkling.

"Then that settles it," I said, hiccupping, "That settles it." The corners of my mouth remained upturned as I picked my spoon back up and mixed the soup so that it clouded up again. Taking a sip, I grinned as the liquid ran smoothly down my throat and sent shivers up my spine.

It was still warm.

After a few more meetings over the course of two weeks, I didn't see Sabito again for the next three months. It was disheartening, to say the least. Though I would always wait by the window in anticipation, he never showed up with the girl. Instead, there was a long-locked black-haired boy, clad in similar patterned robes as he. His eyes appeared as blue as the sky in a cloudless afternoon, and his jaw was angled finely. Guessing that the stranger was a replacement market-boy, I started to worry.

Has something bad happened to Sabito?

When the thought would surface, I simply shook it off, convincing myself again and again that the peach-haired boy was well. Urokodaki frequently updated me with messages via crow, that Sabito was training, and nothing else. This served as a reassuring factor to quell my anxiety through the days in which I felt especially lonely.

Unfortunately, it just so happened to be one of those hours. Currently, I was in a spell of panic.

What if he never came back? What if he perished?

Merely thinking about it made my blood run cold and my fingers numb. I wouldn't even know how to react if that happened. The only thing I could do was hope that Sabito was alright. I felt helpless, defenseless, utterly hopeless.

In my fit, I hadn't realized that there was a knock at the door. It took me a couple minutes to fully register what was going on.

Was this deja vu?

Getting up from my position on my seat, I moved quickly to the door, unlocked it, and was immediately met with an unfathomable sight.

Breathlessly, I began to cry. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks with haste, landing delicately on my robes. My hands were clasped over the smile upon my features, catching the gentle sobs I let out.

There Sabito stood, with longer hair and a small sack in his hand. He grinned, his lavender eyes crinkling as he did. I could see my reflection in his glossy irises.

"Master said it was my turn to bring the miso soup again." I laughed and tried to run towards him, but only managed a meager shuffle.

"Sabito!" I cried, my arms outstretched. He caught me in his embrace, gripping onto my robes as hard as he could without risking any injury being made to my skin. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took in his scent, his being, his presence with as much attention as I could muster.

"I missed you," he whispered, voice cracking, "So much." I sobbed, my chest filling with nothing but endless adoration. Eventually separating, I fluttered my eyelids open and gazed into his wisteria eyes, then kissed him. My heart jumped at the sensation. With fingers gingerly combing through his hair, feeling his soft locks and getting tangled in the new length, I basked in his presence and familiar scent. He kissed back with the same fervor, gripping my waist with his gossamer hands, sending me into paradise.

When we broke away, I couldn't help but smile at his dopey expression.

"Can I come in?" he murmured, placing a peck on my forehead. His voice was irresistibly smooth, like silk flowing in the wind -- undulating and perfectly formed. Giggling as he kissed my lips once more, I couldn't ignore how much I loved him and his being.

So of course, I let him in.

#miso soup #oneshot #imagine #sabito #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #xreader #reader insert #i miss you sabito

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sserpente · 5 years ago

Photo

A/N: Requests from two anons and @cognativeresonance. More smut? More smut. And I think the gif is a spoiler.

Words: 2769 Warnings: ghost!Reader/succubus!Reader, smut

Peace was a treacherous word. At least it was for a spirit. You had been unwilling to accept death—and you had more or less come to terms with staying on Midgard and watching life pass you by when you would still be here once all life was gone.

But just because, according to mortal laws, you were dead, this did not mean you were not alive. Your physical manifestation resembled that of an angel, or a demon. You were not mortal—but you were not immortal either.

For decades, lower species had hunted you down for their sick and ruthless experiments and research, in an attempt to understand themselves, the universe, better. You had fled, times and times, until you found the perfect hiding place. Putting your trust in an Asgardian sorcerer who had done nothing but use you for his own wicked schemes. When you found out about his schemes, he punished you, bounding you to Midgard for all eternity. Now, you had taken refuge in an ancient castle with cold and moist stone walls that screamed history from every dark corner.

Every now and then, humans found this godforsaken and lonely place. Archaeologists, tourists and daring teenagers who had spread the rumours that the castle was haunted. Well, technically… they were not wrong. At least, that kept curious spectators away—most of the time.

Today, it was all different. You were almost grateful… for every now and then, life inside these ancient walls got rather tiring.

They called themselves the Avengers, on a secret mission to save the world. You rolled your eyes upon eavesdropping. This world was beyond saving. They needed a shelter for the night, somewhere safe to stay until dawn.

Still… they had not asked for your permission.

You recognised them; some of them anyway. There was Thor, God of Thunder and firstborn son of Odin Allfather. Ever since the destruction of his home planet, he had settled down on Earth, taking his mischievous brother Loki right with him. Loki. The God of Mischief. You licked your lower lips when you first lay your eyes upon him, unbeknownst to him.

He was tall, thin, yet well-trained and graceful with every movement he made. His hair raven black, his eyes piercing blue and those sharp cheekbones… you had heard about the horrors he had gone through over the last couple of years and you had taken quite the liking into him.

You followed him into one of the smaller chambers they had chosen to reside in for the night, secretly watching him, his body language and mimics. Good thing you were able to pass through walls. Your heart skipped a beat when he began taking off his heavy leather armour, revealing a plain green shirt seemingly made of silk. And when he took that off too, he revealed a pale but well-defined chest, making your mouth water.

You smirked. For Heaven’s sake, you had not had to lay with a man for decades. Unceremoniously, you knocked over the old vase on top of the drawer.

Loki turned on his heel, eyes darting around the room. He could not see you, of course.

“Who is there?” You chuckled. The sound echoed through the room, having him tense up. “Show yourself!” He demanded. Oh… so dominant. You would certainly enjoy having him in your bed.

And how you loved scaring intruders. Admiring his godly body once more with utter amusement, you only just missed the vigorous movement of his hand sending green shimmers of light through the room—until it was too late.

“My… what do we have here?” He purred darkly. His blue eyes locked with yours, knocking all air out of your lungs at once. You had certainly underestimated the God of Mischief. Your lips parted.

He could see you. He could actually see you. When was the last time a man… no, any other living being, had seen you with their own eyes? The thought both excited and scared you at the very same time.

“What a ravishing little ghost.”

Instantly, you frowned, insulted by the term he had used.

“I am a spirit. Not a ghost.”

Loki smirked. He enjoyed eliciting such reactions from you then. “Ah, pardon me. A spirit. So you are not… dead then.”

“No… not really,” You paused. “What spell did you cast? How are you able to see me?”

Loki was smart. A skilled sorcerer with centuries of experience. You should have known better than to provoke him. But then again… feeling his scrutinising blue gaze on you did things to you which you had not felt in so long it felt surreal. Perhaps this had been worth it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, little spirit?” He was mocking you. He was actually mocking you. Angrily, you knocked over another vase without even laying a hand on it. It clattered to the hard ground, bursting into thousands of pieces and making him chuckle.

“Now since you had the audacity to haunt me like an ordinary ghost, why don’t you start by telling me exactly who you are?”

You snorted. He was the Norse God of Mischief. The more he knew about you, the more he would be able to manipulate and trick you. Besides, he was a stranger. This was personal.

Rolling your eyes at him, you turned on your heel in an attempt to pass through the wall, leaving him behind for good. The moment you collided with the hard and cold stone wall was the first time since your banishment you felt true pain.

What in the nine realms had he done to you?!

“No luck?”

You growled, rubbing your shoulder. Perhaps you should sleep with him and feast on his energy, if anything to wipe that cheeky smirk off his face.

“Who are you?” He asked again, more demanding and stricter this time. The sound of his velvety voice sent, unconsciously, pleasant shivers up and down your spine. You sighed. Somehow, he had bound you to this room. He could not mean to harm you but the threat lingering behind his words was clear.

“(Y/N)… my name is (Y/N).” Loki lifted his chin.

“Are you Midgardian?”

“What? Ew, no… I was born in Anaheim, almost five centuries ago.”

“Then how did you end up on Midgard? If you are not dead, your spirit must have been banished here.”

Hm. He knew what he was talking about then.

“I was, by an Asgardian sorcerer, almost two centuries ago.” The memory was painful. After all this time, the scar the day you had lost your body and became unable to leave this dirty planet, had still not healed.

“Which crime did you commit to deserve such severe punishment?” He probed.

Once again, you glared at him furiously. “Is this an interrogation? This is none of your business, Loki.”

“You know who I am then.” He stated bluntly. He took a step closer, threateningly. Gods, could it be? That you had offended him so gravely with your harmless spooking?

“Let me go.” You suddenly heard yourself whisper. Loki chuckled darkly. He was very well aware his sudden closeness was messing with your mind, sending waves of numbing heat through your body. The urge to grab him and throw him on the bed to ravish him grew with every passing second.

It had been severe punishment indeed. The sorcerer—Armal had been his name—was cruel. With your spirit detached from your physical form despite it never having left your body, you were unable to be seen or touched, your cravings left unsatisfied for all eternity.

Right now, however, in this very moment, your curse appeared like a true blessing. “You cannot touch me.” You hissed. “So stop threatening me.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. Only now did you realise that he was still shirtless.

“Can I not?” He reached out to grab your wrists and instead of passing right through you, his hands wrapped around them firmly. You flinched upon the sudden body contact, the fire that had been extinguished so many centuries ago igniting each and every one of your limbs within the fraction of a second.

“What… what did you do to me?”

“I am a sorcerer, my dear.”

“I…” You croaked out, unable to speak due to the growing desire overwhelming both your body and mind. “I haven’t touched… a… man… in… in decades.”

Loki frowned. He might have been a sorcerer. But when he leaned in even closer, his blue eyes wandering down to your lips, you realised that not even he was immune to your body.

“What are you?” He growled hoarsely.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Defeated by your own lust, you stood on your toes and pressed your lips against his, initiating even more body contact—even more intimate body contact.

Loki breathed in sharply, his hands letting go of your wrists to instead cup your face, taking control of the kiss. He was intoxicated—but so were you as he pulled you towards the bed, flipping you both around so he came to lie on top of you, straddling you and rendering you completely helpless.

He was strong. Much stronger than you, yet all you could think about in this very moment was Loki’s lips on your mouth, your chin, your neck… you gasped when he ripped your clothing off of your body, revealing your breasts to him. They bounced free upon the sudden movement, your nipples hardening both from the chilly temperatures around you and his greedy, hungry gaze on them.

You moaned when he took them into his mouth, one at a time to suckle on them teasingly, almost driving you crazy. Your back was arching, your body preparing to feed on his energy… would you be able to? It was true, you did not know what spell Loki had cast. Surely, he had not ended your banishment and surely, nobody but him was able to touch you right now. Instantly you wondered if he’d find a way to free you—you’d be forever grateful; and if you were just careful enough, you would not murder him during the act.

With but another flick of his wrist, the same green light returned, surrounding both your bodies this time. Only when he pried your legs apart to give himself access to your most intimate parts, you realised that you were both entirely naked.

The direct skin on skin contact made you swoon, your palms sweating with unspent energy, every fibre of your being longing to feast on him.

You were soaking wet when he forced himself between your legs, his hardened length leaking precum as he teased your clit with the tip, making you moan.

“Please…” You croaked hungrily. “Please…” Oh, in the end, all men were fools, driven by their carnal instincts.

Loki smirked smugly, seemingly enjoying your begging. You cried out in bliss when he buried himself inside you to the hilt, relentless and starving for pleasure. His energy built within you, flowing into your body like an ice cold river in spring. Your senses awakened, the world all of a sudden more beautiful, more colourful, more lively.

You dug your fingers into his bare back, leaving marks he would surely be able to feel tomorrow morning. When you opened your eyes to meet his lustful gaze, his own widened. You had almost forgotten they turned yellow, the pupils small black slits like those of a snake when you fed.

“You are a succubus.” He panted out of breath, slight shock swinging in his voice. If he were to pull away now, disgusted, you would never find the strength to keep him inside you. Loki was a god, after all. Much stronger than you.

“Please… please don’t stop now.” And it was true. The moment you had first tasted his sexual energy, your hunger returned like a tidal wave knocking you over and clouding your mind. He felt so incredibly good, both physically and spiritually…

For just the fraction of a second, his eyes flickered with an emotion you could not quite put your finger on. Was it compassion? Pity? The enchantment, in any case, seemed to be broken. He was fully aware now of what he was doing and with whom he was doing it.

You whined when he retreated from your tight heat, hissing in the process but screamed, out of control, when he plunged back inside you, fucking you hard and fast. The room filled with the smell of sex and sounds of skin smacking against skin, paired with both your moans and pants.

You threw your head back. He was so… so delicious. “Oh God…”

“’Oh God’ indeed…” He mused, barely able to contain himself. You had to admit, feeding usually felt as great as experiencing orgasms to you. You did not need them when you slept with men. This time, however… as you felt yourself tripping closer and closer to the edge, your breathing quickening and your heartbeat speeding up, you started to doubt this initial notion.

Loki knew exactly how to move and how to caress your dripping cunt to get you wet for him and welcome his manhood into your awaiting cave. With every powerful thrust he brought you closer to an earth-shattering orgasm threatening to steal away your senses and when you finally fell off the cliff, he was there to catch you. Your eyes returned to their normal colour, your hunger satisfied.

Rhythmically, your walls began clenching around him, milking him for all he was worth and triggering his own release. Loki grunted, wolfishly, as he spurted ropes of his seed deep inside you, making you scream his name in pure ecstasy.

He rutted into you a few more times, helping you ride out your climax until he himself was completely spent, then chuckled in an amused and mischievous manner when your eyes fell shut, exhausted by this wonderful adventure the Norse god had taken you on.

“Thank you…” You mumbled. What for exactly, you did not know. Was it the mind-blowing orgasm? The thirst he had quenched? The intimate body contact you had missed so strongly? You were still joined, his hard cock resting inside of you. He would soften any moment now, right? You should enjoy the sensation for as long as it lasted.

“Oh, my sweet little succubus…” He purred darkly. “You did not think I was done with you already, did you?”

Your eyes widened when he thrust back into you with a start. You had hardly recovered from your first orgasm when he already stirred you straight into the next, working you up even faster this time. One of his hands disappeared down to where your bodies where joined, his long and soft digits sardonically toying with your clit until you were ready to burst into a million pieces yet again.

“Oh… my God… Loki!” Your arms were all over the place, desperate for a safe grip. He pinned them down above your head, forcing you to simply take all the pleasure he was offering you. You screamed when you climaxed again, the sensations even stronger this time. But Loki did not stop. He kept fucking you roughly, hunting his own peak like a predator and never ceasing to make sure you enjoyed yourself as well.

How many more orgasms did he force you into? Was it three? Four? Six? Ten? You had stopped counting after the third time he filled you with his cum. Loki had turned you into a panting mess, all weak from all the bliss and as satisfied as you had never been in your long life.

Limply, you rested your head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. He did not need to speak out loud what he was thinking—for this truly was an unexpected turn of events. Surely, none of the Avengers had planned anything alike on this mission, especially not for him.

Loki had been intoxicated by your scent, a magical component your body released to seduce your victims easier but in the end, he had been the one who had proved to you what it meant to share the bed with a Norse god. The Norse God of Trickery. Weakly, you smiled to yourself.

“Loki…” You whispered breathlessly. He hummed in response. “Can you help me? Can you help me leave this place?”

His hand came up to stroke your arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps wherever his fingertips brushed over your naked skin.

You could tell he was smiling as well when he replied.

“I most certainly can, (Y/N).”

A/N: Damn, I really enjoyed writing this one.

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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lizzy-of-the-valley19 · 4 years ago

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Fall From Grace, Right Into Your Arms.

Summary: An angel had fallen out of the sky, straight into his arms. Her lovely, glittering amethyst eyes met his wide, soulful, burgundy ones. She thought of how they reminded her of the sky at the blush of dawn. And at that moment, something within them sparked a brand new start on feelings they never knew existed. Oh, how she felt wonderstruck right then, marveling at how pretty his eyes were..." Or rather, this one time where Tsuyuri Kanao's 'superior motor reflexes' did not work. Set in Kimetsu Gakuen AU.

Note: This is very self-indulgent so here’s my first take on one certain sunshine lad and butterfly lass. Shoutout to @sparkleswritings for being so patient with me on beta-reading this work. thaaaaankkkk youuuuu so much I couldn’t have done this without your help T_T Also, thank you very much Manu of @tankanaweek2020 for kindly giving me permission to use the prompts and motivating me to greenlit this! And I’m sooo sorry this came in verrry late and for some marginal errors! But better late than never, right? Hope you enjoy lovelies! :D

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She thought this was the end.

Time flowed around her as if in slow motion yet fast, all at once. The girl was startled by a loud ‘snap!’ from a loose tree branch that she has been holding on to guarantee her safe descent from the cherry tree. And just her luck, she suddenly lost her footing and slipped. With a startled yelp, gravity took over her body as Tsuyuri Kanao felt herself slip away from her hold. For once, her fast reflexes and nimble body were rendered useless when her anxiety suddenly kicked in.

She'll have some broken bones, a few bruises, and cuts, maybe even some blood (she hopes not) all over her body. Her Kanae nee-san would be worried sick and would fuss over her nonstop. Shinobu nee-san would still do the same but she'll give her one hell of a lecture full of poisonous quips. And oh dear, Kanao does not want that. They would skin her alive, that's for sure if she had not died here first.

Had she lived a life with no regrets? Were the last sixteen years of her existence worth it? Will she meet her biological parents in heaven? What or who would she reincarnate into, she wonders. Would the words "Cause of death: A bad fall due to a misstep from a broken branch of a cherry blossom tree" be etched forever in her death certificate? She feels ashamed, this is embarrassing compared to those who died fighting disease and war!

At least those baby sparrows didn't get hurt and were placed back safe and sound , she hoped that their mother would find her nest soon. Kanao doesn't mind if she'd die knowing that she'd rescued something or someone. What a pretty sight, the last thing that she sees on Earth is this old cherry blossom tree in full bloom.

Ah, perhaps that she might become a spirit and haunt this tree to watch over her sisters and the other students at her school. Is this one of those, "When your whole life flashes before your eyes," moments that she has often heard from movies or books?

But here she was right now, her face and skin getting scratched from tree branches and her body was slowly hurtling towards the ground from a 30-foot drop. As she braces for impact, she instinctively wraps her arms closer over her chest, scrunching her eyes shut as the ground approaches nearer and nearer.

How did she get into this mess anyway?

*20 minutes earlier*

"Kanao, I'll be going home earlier today. Mom needs me to help her at the diner because you know… today's Friday and more customers are going to pour in during suppertime. Are you sure you're gonna be okay on your own?" Kanzaki Aoi queried her friend as she adjusted the straps of her bag, slightly worried at her. Club sessions were already done several minutes ago, and the two had just finished cleaning the clubroom.

Kanao shook her head, smiling a bit. "Thank you, Aoi. Besides, I'll be fine! I'll just wait for Shinobu nee-san when she's done with her club activities. I'll lock up the clubroom for today." Aoi was about to say something when a sudden chime made the pigtailed girl flinch, fishing out her phone from her skirt pocket.

"Oh dear, Mom's already calling for me! Gotta run now, bye! And tell Shinobu-sama I said congratulations on passing her exams!" She began to dash to the door, muttering about 'orders' and 'customers'.

Kanao waved at her retreating figure, slightly amused at her friend's antics.

Shortly after Aoi left, the clubroom seemed to be quieter now. The distant holler of the students from sports clubs doing their drills outside is all she can hear at that moment.

Oh… she's now all alone. She still has a bit of time on her own.

Kanae nee-san was still at the meeting with the faculty. Shinobu nee-san, meanwhile, was still at the Biology room where she convened with the rest of her fellow Pharmaceutical Club members, no doubt testing another poisonous chemical that they had just concocted with ingredients only-God-knows-where came from.

Gathering her things, she exited the Flower Arrangement Clubroom and locked it.

‘Perhaps I'll go to the old cherry tree at the back of the school.’ she mused.It was spring, after all, and she wanted to see what it would look like when it blooms in full swing. The sun was already setting, casting the sky in a rosy hue, basking her surroundings in a warm, golden glow.

By the time she had arrived there, she felt her breath take away at the lovely sight before her. The delicate pink petals fell to the ground like snow, their scent bringing in the fragrance of the new season. The windy breeze swayed the branches slightly, dancing along the springsong. Spring was indeed her favorite season. The flowers blooming, the sweet sakura mochi that she and her sisters would always share while celebrating Hanami, and the warm weather were the few things that she loved about spring. Kanao feels her heart swell with bliss. For her, such moments like these are the ones she cherishes the most.

She also remembered, her sisters would always fawn over spring, gushing that this season was the best time to fall in love for the first time-

"Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!"

"Eh? Birds?" A loud chirping noise interrupted her train of thoughts. A few feet away from her, a fallen nest of baby sparrows laid haphazardly on the ground, no doubt being blown away by the wind. It seems that the thick carpets of grass and cherry blossom petals had somehow cushioned the nest's fall, miraculously rendering the chicks still alive and yet.. Helpless. The girl approached the nest and picked it up gently, making sure the little birds wouldn't get hurt in the process.

"Poor little things. I'll bring you guys back up to the tree, I'm sure your mother is looking for you..."

She craned her head from left to right, checking to see if anybody was around. It would be very improper of her to climb a tree if someone saw her - she'll be damned if it was Tomioka-sensei, their P.E.teacher, and school disciplinarian. The latter had the reputation of hunting rule-breakers like a crazed shark on shallow waters. And she was still dressed in her school uniform with an above-the-knee skirt. If some poor unfortunate soul would see what's under it, she'd made sure that they would never see the light of the day again.

After making sure that no one was indeed around, she slipped off her loafers and started to climb the tree while her one hand held the nest securely. Luckily the tree's trunk had a lot of bumps so it is easier for her to climb the way up. Though she did struggle a bit along the way, she reached near the canopy of the cherry tree successfully.

"There." She spotted a nearby branch dotted with buds, thick and sturdy enough, she remarked. "That'll hold them." she thought, and she pulled her body up to the said branch, sliding the nest to the branch until the twigs held them secure. Kanao smiled, feeling accomplished that she put the baby birds back where they belong.

Now that both of her hands are free, she moved to begin her way down. But suddenly her sock-clad foot took a misstep on a knobby part of the trunk and the branch that she held on to broke. Unfortunately, it was a thin, hollow branch and it broke on her tight grip. Shoot, she should've removed her socks back then to avoid her from slipping. But it was too late - losing her balance, Kanao felt her right hand getting scraped as she slipped off the branch, her body slowly hurtling to the ground the same way the cherry blossom petals fell…

*Back to the present*

No,no,no,no,no,no,no… These words were repeated on her mind like a broken record. This is it, she's going to die, this is the end. But a part of her wished that she wouldn't die yet. She wanted to see her older sisters again, to spend more time with them. With her fellow club members, Aoi, everyone…

"WATCH OUT!" She heard a voice from somewhere down below, but what happened next was not one that she was expecting.

The sudden thud of a fallen branch, the wind picking up, and a person groaning and wincing in pain-

Instead of falling onto the hard, solid, grass-covered ground, she felt two strong arms holding her back and the back of her knees. She landed on a body, a man’s to be exact, judging by the hardiness of it. She gripped his broad shoulders a bit too strongly, her body instinctively seeking an anchor to hold on to. She still scrunched her eyes shut, adrenaline pumping in her veins wildly, her breathing ragged.

"Are you alright, Miss? That was quite the fall that you had..." the words died by his throat as Kanao snapped her eyes open. This time, she felt her breath taken away for the second time that day the moment their eyes met.

Her (unexpected) savior was a young man about her age; with messy, slicked back maroon hair, a noticeable scar on his forehead, and hanafuda earrings dangling on his ears. But one feature that stood out the most is his eyes - wide, soulful burgundy ones that reminded her of the sky in the blush of dawn that seemed to shine against the sunset's golden rays. He stared at her with his lips parted, almost in disbelief that this random beautiful girl fell right into his arms.

As if on cue the wind picked up once more, sending the petals scattering on a graceful dance on the air. Her heart thumping wildly, all she can hear is her heartbeat ringing loudly in her ears. She and this handsome stranger looked at each other, her wide amethyst eyes meeting his dawn-red ones. Their faces were only centimeters apart, noses almost touching. She was rendered wonderstruck, marveling at how lovely his eyes were, his gaze was magnetic and deep as if they saw each other's souls at that moment, beckoning-

The school's last bell snapped them out of their reverie, breaking whatever spell that was cast in that ephemeral moment. The realization hit them like a ton of bricks as she just processed what happened: she crash-landed on some random guy and fortunately caught her ungraceful fall from the tree. With a yelp, she flailed off his arms and the young man grunted with an 'oof!' but still he helped her down, albeit a bit too unceremoniously.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!!! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She flailed, oh dear spirits, she hoped that whoever caught her was alright or she has broken anything! Really, what was she thinking?!

"No, no, no, it's really alright! I'm okay!" The young man in front of her flailed his arms as he helped her up. Their eyes met again, this time a hint of crimson dusted their cheeks. The two instinctively averted their eyes, too embarrassed at the events that just happened. For her being caught by a random stranger was rather shameful and for him, he was rather flustered of the girl before him.

A few beats later, Kanao gathered herself. She slipped her loafers back on and gathered her bag from the ground. With newfound courage, she apologized to him once again. "I'm sorry! I've crash-landed on you… Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere? Did something break? I'm very, very sorry!"

To her surprise, he chuckled. "It's okay, I promise! Don't worry, I've had worse. I have a friend who loves to roughhouse with me and boy, it's like I'm fighting with a wild bear or a four-legged beast!"

"I... I see..." Kanao raised her hand but she suddenly flinched, feeling a sudden shot of pain, particularly at her right palm.

"Your palm, it's bleeding..." He noted, and she raised it. He was right - a gash was blooming on it, slightly bloodied due to the broken branch that she held on mistakenly earlier that caused her (literal) downfall. Thank goodness there were no splinters. She touched her wound gingerly, wincing at the slight pain. "Ow..."

"If you don't mind, can I tend your wound for a bit?" The red-haired lad implored. Kanao was about to refuse when he fished out a handkerchief with a forest green and black checkered design from his pocket.

"Don't worry, this one's clean! My little sister, Nezuko, made this handkerchief by herself! This should stop the bleeding in the meantime," He stepped closer to her. Then he proceeded to wrap her wounded palm gently, making sure that it's not too tight. "There we go..all done!"

"Th-thank you….” she timidly thanked him, gently prodding her newly wrapped palm.

"It's no problem at all!" He cheerily replied. She looked up to him and he gave her a radiant grin - the kind where his eyes crinkled at the corners, the dimples on his cheeks showing. Kanao felt her heart skip a beat.

'He's such a kind person… He looks adorable with that smile of his-'

Wait, what?

"By the way... what were you doing up there in the tree?" he queried with his brows raised, pointing at the canopy above them.

"Oh! I.. uh.. I was returning the baby sparrows' nest there," she said, motioning for him to follow where she pointed on a branch that's quite… high. She gulped, he wasn't kidding that she'll quite have an incident, heaven forbid. Right now, the mother sparrow was now back on the nest, feeding her chicks with the food she brought for them.

"I see! Good thing I just came by, I was just about to head to the front gate! Who knows what could've happened to you or the nest, I mean, that's quite the drop, don't you think? You should be extra careful next time!" he chided her, but with no bite. His light-hearted tone somehow reminds her of Kanae nee-san admonishing her sometimes.

"I couldn't just leave them here on the ground..." Kanao trailed off, pushing a stray strand to her ear. She looked shyly at him.

"Oh… You're very kind to animals, Miss... Ah, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Kamado Tanjirou, a first-year student! Nice to meet you! " He bowed, albeit sloppily, and took out his hand, which made the girl in front of him giggle.

"Tsuyuri."

"Eh?"

"Tsuyuri Kanao. Second-year, member of the Flower Arrangement Club. Um..." she gathered herself, "Thank you! For.. um, catching me, I mean. And for treating my wound!" she frantically clarified, and took his extended hand.

"You're very welcome, Tsuyuri-senpai..." Tanjirou's crooked yet bright smile once again graced his features, directed at her only. Once their hands made contact that inexplicable tingly and fluttery sensation coursed through their veins once more.

It’s like earlier, the moment our eyes first met.

They just stood there, his dawn-red eyes meeting her amethyst ones, both of their lips drawn into a soft smile. In that ephemeral moment, she felt something piercing her heart, perhaps the season was getting on to her. She must admit, this feels nice…. Is this what her sisters meant about spring?

He was the first one to relinquish his hand from her hold. For some reason, she's now missing the warmth in her hand.

"It's gonna get dark soon, we should head home, huh?" She heard him mutter. She silently agreed, now trailing beside him. Leaving one last glance at the blooming tree, they left the place together. Tanjirou was now enthusiastically talking about bread and the bakery that his family owns. As they approached the school gates, Kanao already spotted her two elder sisters there, waiting for her.

"Oh, Kanae nee-san and Shinobu nee-san's already there," she remarked.

"They're your sisters?!" Tanjirou exclaimed.

"That's right!" she quipped, giggling a bit at his bewildered expression.

"Yoo-hoo, Kanao! And oh my, Kamado-kun too!" Kanae cheerily waved at them. Shinobu greeted them with a smile too. But when she spotted Kanao's wrapped right hand, her eyebrows shot up. She looked at her little sister in question. Kanao pursed her lips guiltily, mouthing "Later."

"Well then, I'll be taking my leave now! I'll see you next Monday, Kochou-sensei! Shinobu-senpai! And..." Tanjirou paused to look at her, smiling crookedly at her again. "Tsuyuri-senpai!" With a wave, the red-haired lad trotted off.

Kanao waved at him, whispering, "Take care..."

Once Tanjirou was out of earshot, two pairs of hands immediately fell to her shoulders and she turned to see her two sisters smiling sweetly at her. Kanae's eyes were shining with excitement and joy. Shinobu, meanwhile, smiled at her graciously too, but her expression literally said, “Explain or I’ll extract from it to you forcibly”.

Oh no. Once intrigue swept over them, they would never stop.

"My oh my Kanao. Care to tell the story between you and Kamado-kun, hmm? And what's up with your wrapped hand?" Shinobu said sweetly but laced with a little apprehension.

"Ahh! Shinobu, spring has finally come for our cute little sister, I'm so proud of her~! Let's eat some sakura mochi for dessert later, we have lots to celebrate for tonight!" Kanae passionately declared while she grabbed Kanao in a one-armed hug.

"Nee-san! We have to treat her wound first!" Shinobu said exasperatedly, raising her little sister's hand for her to see.

"Oh my~! Kamado-kun did a great job patching her up, no? I'll give him some extra points in the next class for this! He deserves a reward for treating our cute little sister~!" Kanae ignored her younger sister's quips, too excited that her Kanao had finally found a friend of the opposite sex (and a potential little brother too!)

"Isn't that a bit too much, nee=san? And you, Kanao, I didn't know you're now canoodling with rule-breakers? I see that boy running into trouble with Tomioka-sensei all the time!" Shinobu quipped.

"N-no! It wasn't anything like that!" Kanao stammered, her cheeks and ears now fully red.

Kanae giggled. Then she wrapped her arms around their shoulders, with Shinobu on her left, and Kanao on her right. "Let's go home now shall we? We can tell each other's stories tonight! I'm also curious about what happened to you Kanao. Shinobu, take it a little easy for our little sister, she's now starting to bloom and broke out of her timid shell!"

The two butterfly girls sighed but smiled fondly at their elder sister nonetheless. "Yes, nee-san.."

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

"I'm home!"

"Welcome back, onii-chan!" Tanjirou's little siblings, Hanako and Shigeru, greeted their eldest brother, running up to him for a quick hug. The oldest Kamado sibling immediately hugged them both tightly.

"You're a little late than usual today Tanjirou-nii chan, did something happen at school?" Hanako questioned after he set them down.

"Well..." he averted his gaze, picking on his blazer until he found a stray small cherry blossom flower that somewhat got stuck in his breast pocket. Ah, a small remnant of that 'little incident' a while ago… and her image suddenly flashed in his mind

"An angel from the sky fell right into my arms and she had the most beautiful eyes that I've ever seen..." Tanjirou unknowingly mused, holding the small flower in his fingers with a wistful smile.

Hanako and Shigeru tilted their heads at their elder brother's mysterious words. “What are you talking about nii-chan?”

Instead of answering, he just patted their heads lovingly. "Ah, nothing. Let's help mom prepare dinner, shall we?"

~End of Prompt One~

#tankana #tanjirou kamado #kanao tsuyuri #fanfic #kny #there's more to come!

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mystery-deer · 5 years ago

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Angst HC with fluff potential, Kevin has anxiety. Most of the time he deals with it with his and Holt's signature stoicism-and-snark combo, and he does get flustered easily. Rarely, though, things are just too much and he reverts back to a behavior he developed as a child from dealing with his father. He shuts down. He lowers his gaze, goes vacant and does nothing. Ray freaked out the first time this happened but since then has learned to deal with it, but is always deeply concerned. Thoughts?

The first attack he remembered having was when he was young.

He had broken something. He didn’t remember exactly what it was, all he remembered was the rush of his blood cooling all at once as he realized what he’d done.

What was coming.

His mother had sent him to his room without any anger, her own face trying to be stern and comforting all at once as she told him that his father would be home soon. That she’d try to calm him down before he found the wreckage.

Oh, a pen. Yes, it had been a pen. He had taken it from the top of his father’s desk and it had broken as he wrote.

He felt like his heart was going to explode.He was going to throw up.He was going to die.Yes, he was going to die.

The thought kept circling around his head as Kevin sat with his ink-stained hands shaking and then laid down with his whole body trembling and spasming with something he couldn’t quite identify. Fear?

He’d never been this afraid before. It had never rendered him speechless and immobile.

His father had waited half an hour between finding the pen (He could hear him roaring with rage and then talking in loud disappointment “That kid Marie, that kid…” before it was all silence and waiting waiting waiting) and coming upstairs.

He stood outside the door for another minute before opening it. “Sit up.” He demanded and Kevin did.

Then his memory blinked out. A lightbulb with faulty wiring. When it came back on he was washing his hands of the ink as his father looked on.

“I’m proud of you.” He said, resting a hand on his still-shaking shoulder. “You didn’t talk back.”

He wouldn’t have a name for them for years, until well into his adult life one of his friends told him “That sounds like anxiety.”

“Brilliant.” He’d struggled to reply, everything around him unfocused and too much. “I can see why you’re a leader in your field.”

“I mean anxiety disorder.” His friend had clarified, gently leading him out onto the balcony for some air. “You absolute dick.”

He’d researched it the moment he’d been able to.

“Why are you reading about anxiety disorders?” Raymond asked, coming up behind him and resting his chin in the crook of Kevin’s shoulder.

“I believe I might have one.” He replied, reaching one hand up to idly scratch at Raymond’s hair. Neither of them commented on it.

Raymond closed his eyes (much like a cat, kevin often thought but would never voice) and hummed a matter-of-face “I see.” Before quieting and eventually leaving his boyfriend be.

“Are people not always worried?” Kevin asked one day a few weeks later. His researching had given way to formulating hypotheses and questions. “Does the average man walk around oblivious to the world around him?”

Raymond scoffed. “The average white man.”Kevin smirked. “The average straight man.”Raymond nodded appreciatively.

“Perhaps you have no disorder, your life circumstances are just differing from the norm?” Kevin examined his boyfriend’s face for any derision and only saw curiosity. “Perhaps.” He said, thinking back to his childhood. Differing from the norm, indeed.

Whether or not he had anxiety was giving him anxiety.He had a half-dream when he was half-asleep in bed, brain dipped forever in worry, soaking it all up. In his dream one of his colleagues (the annoying one trying his damnedest to grow a mustache) was giving a lecture and pointing ineffectually without a pointer. Just…using his hands. Like an imbecile.

“And here we see Prof Kevin as a wonderful example of dramatic irony.” He was saying in his trying-to-be-humorous voice. The projector showed Kevin pacing around his and Raymond’s apartment.

Kevin woke up when he felt Raymond shift. “Mm.” He muttered.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” His boyfriend whispered and Kevin shook his head.

“Reynolds.” He tried to explain, one eye still closed.

“Your colleague with the…well, I’m feeling charitable. The moustache?” Kevin nodded. “You were dreaming about him? I’m jealous.”

Kevin smiled slightly. Some might call this a smirk, especially given the intense aura of smug dislike emanating off the man. Raymond called it a slight smile. “Don’t be. He was being very…Reynolds.”

“Ah.”

"He called me ‘prof Kevin’ out loud.“ "Dear God.”

They laid in silence for a minute before Kevin spoke again.

“Raymond I don’t know if I have…anything. I am unsure.” Raymond made a noise of understanding and reached out, resting a hand gently on Kevin’s pillow which Kevin took without thinking.

“However, I know that I do have certain issues. You remember my episode that took place in childhood?”

“Vividly.” Kevin squeezed Raymond’s hand to reassure him of his being alright. It always upset his boyfriend to hear about Kevin being upset even if it was years in the past.

“Yes, well there have been…similar incidents since then.” Raymond sat up straight.

“When?” Kevin sat up as well, rubbing an eye.“I can’t remember. Various incidents. What’s important is that should such an incident occur again-”

“There are synonyms of ‘incident’ you know-”

“-I’m very tired Raymond.”

“Sorry, I forgot myself. Please continue.”

“…should such an episode occur again, I will require your assistance.” He moved over and rested his head on Raymond’s shoulder, making a slight show of leaning down to do it.

“I will support you in any way I can.” Raymond said, bringing Kevin’s hand up to his mouth and kissing it softly.

They fell asleep like that.

And so, with a horrible pain in Kevin’s neck and Raymond’s back, they went to work.

Kevin to his literal job and Raymond…also to his literal job, but with an additional personal job as well. Researching on ways to assist Kevin if he were ever to have an attack of anxiety around him.

The first few attempts were less than ideal.

—— (Flashback, Kevin eating breakfast and Raymond washing dishes)-——-

Kevin: It looks like rain today.

Raymond (perking up, alert): Does that…worry you?

Kevin: I suppose. The subway is going to be hell.

Raymond (placing a reassuring hand on Kevin’s back): It’s going to be alright. You are safe.

Kevin: I know. (examining the water on the floor from Raymond’s hand) I will have to change now.

Raymond: Just remember to keep breathing.

Kevin: I’ll try to keep that in mind.

—— (Flashback ends)——–

However, he had persisted in his research and as a result been able to assist his boyfriend through a small series of episodes;

When he’d forgotten his phone at work after telling Kevin that he’d be attempting to arrest “YoYo MaMa” the prolific mother murdering serial killer that day. (He’d come home to find Kevin had re-organized half their bookshelves and abandoned the task midway through to dust the empty shelves instead.)

Kevin’s first work party that accepted plus one’s onto the premises. (They’d both been nervous for that one but it wasn’t until Kevin re-made the ratatouille they were bringing for the third time that Raymond realized he was more than nervous.)

When the news had reported a bomb in the building across the street from Raymond’s workplace. (It had turned out to be a fake threat but when he’d called Kevin after it was all over he’d heard his voice shakier than normal, light with relief.)

And after years of relative peace he had forgotten.

He’d forgotten that this could happen too.

Everything had seemed fine when he’d gotten home. Kevin was researching for an upcoming paper and Raymond had popped in sparingly so as not to disturb him.

When he’d noticed that Kevin hadn’t touched the tea or apple slices that Raymond had left him he’d idly remarked that the apples would brown and Kevin had snapped at him that, “I know the damn apples are going to brown.” and then stared vacantly at the wall.

Raymond had stepped inside and gently shut the door. “Kevin?”

No response. “Kevin, are you ok?” No response, predictably. Raymond’s own heart began to quicken. He didn’t know how to deal with this. He was going to screw up, he was going to hurt him he was-

Kevin wrapped his arms around himself but otherwise remained blank.He had to do something.

Raymond reached out instinctively before pulling his hand back. He had to ask before touching but Kevin wouldn’t speak. He began to pace, racking his brain.

“Kevin can you…hear me?” He asked, trying to keep his questions small and yes/no.

Kevin nodded his head slowly. Raymond breathed a sigh of relief. “Is it okay if I hold your hand?” Kevin nodded again and Raymond took one of his hands without moving his arm.

He had no idea what to do now. He and Kevin usually talked through any issues they had and having him be so…out of it, was disconcerting.

In the middle of trying to puzzle out what to do Kevin suddenly squeezed his hand. Raymond blinked, his heart ached. His Kevin was trying to reassure him, to tell him that he was alright.

Kevin was who needed him right now, Raymond thought, nodding resolutely and squeezing his hand back. He needed to stop thinking and act.

So he did the first thing he could think of.

He began to describe how to make bread out loud, step by step.

“Before you can begin making bread you will need to feed the yeast. This process will take a minimum of half an hour but can continue for longer if that’s how you or your guests prefer your bread. Pour one cup of water-”

He remembered Kevin had been planning to bake bread that afternoon. He remembered that when they had first begun dating he’d said to him, “It’s easy and fun. Homemade bread can be a great gift and the process of making it is quite relaxing.” And Raymond had thought he sounded like he belonged on a cooking show.

He remembered hearing Kevin explain things step by step in a low monotone had often lulled him into a state of calm. Remembered how when he was kept awake by nightmares of crime scene photos and missing persons he was not finding, Kevin would explain to him how old houses were built. From foundation to attic, he’d always fall asleep before Kevin could explain the roof to him.

“-After the first rise you will need to punch it down and shape it once more until it resembles a loaf. Spray the inside of the pan with cooking spray and replace the dough. Watch it rise until-”

He remembered Kevin’s eyes. His laugh and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. His cat-and-mouse way of teasing or tormenting people. Remembered how much he loved him and thought it hard enough that he hoped it came through in his words. He hoped Kevin would be able to understand, to let that love reach him the way he always had before.

“-Place in the oven and bake for twenty minutes-”

“…Twenty?” Raymond paused, hope hanging in the air between them.

“…Yes, twenty minutes.” He waited and was about to continue when Kevin spoke up again, voice soft but there.

“…It’s going to be too soft. It’s much better to cook it for thirty five to forty minutes.” Sensing that he had his boyfriend’s attention, Raymond continued to gently prod at him.

“Well, wouldn’t it be less time consuming? You could always…nuke it.” It pained him to say the words but that pain was immediately eased by Kevin turning to face him, eyes focused and voice solid.

“Nuke it? It’s a kitchen not a missile launch facility.” Raymond smiled, the familiar sentiment assuring him that Kevin was going to be alright.

“Point taken.” He agreed, leaning up slightly to kiss him. “Welcome back.”

“I didn’t go anywhere.” Kevin stated, smiling gently. “Thank you.”

From there they discussed the source of Kevin’s anxiety; Namely, that he had become increasingly worried that he was on the verge of being fired.

Why that anxiety might be irrational; Namely, that he had done nothing wrong, he was a smart and capable man and that Raymond loved him. (Which had nothing to do with the situation at hand but Kevin appreciated it all the same).

And what he could do about it; Namely, ignoring professor Nami who had it in for him and continuing to do his work while keeping his anxiety in mind and taking steps to manage it.

“And you can always let me know if something’s bothering you.” Raymond said, the two of them now eating the apple slices. “Whether it is related to your anxiety or not.”

“I know.” Kevin replied. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I’m your boyfriend. I want to know these things, especially things that might worry me.” Raymond replied, picking up the now cold tea in order to dispose of it. “Because I care for you and want to support you.”

Kevin smiled and turned to his computer once again, picking up his pen and beginning to write. “I love you Raymond.”

“I love you as well.”

#Q&A #anon #thank you anon!!#Kevin and Raymond are from an older generation so I tried to make them both a bit clueless #not completely but just a little like Huh??#they're trying their best #my writing #Anon: thoughts?#Me: (just fuckin..fic)#I can g ive actual thoughts if you'd like

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kittenshift-17 · 5 years ago

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👀 (love youuuuu 💖)

Hermione was muttering to herself as she trod the path to the dungeons, suspecting that along with Professor Snape waiting for her, Umbridge would likely be there, only too willing to gloat over the bad mark on her record that this detention would render.

“Stupid, puffed-up pink toad,” Hermione snarled under her breath as she stomped through the dark corridors. “Someone should hex her into a bloody pin-cushion and then stab her full of pins. Ooomph!”

Hermione collided heavily with someone in the dark, gritting her teeth and jerking her wand from her pocket even as she stumbled, clutching at the robes of the person she’d crashed into, trying to keep her balance.

“Get off!” a cold voice snarled in the dark.

Male. Furious. Perhaps, slightly pained?

They both toppled to the floor, Hermione groaning when she landed on the bottom with the boy pinning her down.

“Lumos,” she hissed, lighting the tip of her wand and recoiling when her gaze collided with the angry and pained face of a boy she felt certain she’d never seen at Hogwarts before.

“Would you watch where you’re fucking going?” the boy snarled at her, glaring before his eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Who are you?” Hermione asked in retorted, her own eyes narrowing. “I’ve never seen you before.”

He glanced at the tip of her wand when she aimed it in his direction.

“Do it,” he sneered. “I dare you.”

Hermione gulped when she felt his wand-tip pressing firmly against the side of her neck, just shy of being painful, but making itself very much obvious to her.

“Get off me, would you?” Hermione asked. “And let’s just both refrain from flinging hexes until you’re not pinning me to the floor, shall we?”

“Scared?” he smirked wickedly and the cruelly amused expression on his face prickled along her psyche.

“Wait… you… Merlin’s beard,” she whispered, her eyes going wide. “Snape?”

His expression pinched.

“So much for never having seen me before,” he sneered.

“Oh, Gods. You’re Severus Snape?” she whispered.

Without thinking, Hermione tangled a hand in the front of his robes – something that annoyed him if the way he dug his wand into her neck was anything to go by.

“Famous, am I?” he drawled wickedly, refusing to get off her when he had the upper hand.

“Merlin, you can’t be more than… what? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

“What’s it to you, witch?” he wanted to know, narrowing his eyes once more.

“Oh, dear,” Hermione whispered, her eyes tracing over his face carefully.

He certainly wasn’t much to look at. His nose was long and hooked, though not quite as intimidating as she knew it would be in adulthood. His eyes glittered like brilliant obsidian, the Lumos glow of her wand casting shadows off high, sharp cheekbones and making his eyes seem strangely alluring. His hair was long – longer than he wore it as her Professor, and it hung in two lank curtains either side of his sallow face. Many of the harsh lines he would gain had yet to etch themselves into his youthful face and despite the sallowness of his complexion, he could certainly look worse, Hermione supposed.

“Who the hell are you?” Snape asked hostilely. “And how do you know my name?”

“Oh… erm, I’m not sure it’s wise to tell you my name,” Hermione frowned, supposing that if he was here, and he didn’t recognize her, then surely he must’ve somehow travelled forward in time.

“Why?” he hissed.

“Well, I… erm… I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think you’ve just time-travelled,” she said softly. “If you’re seventeen, then I’d say you’ve roughly travelled about eighteen years into the future.”

His eyes widened, and he glanced around the corridor, still pinning her to the floor and looking slightly panicked.

“You’re lying,” he hissed, his eyes darting back to her face.

Hermione shook her head.

“I know your name because I know the future version of you,” she told him softly. “I don’t know how you got here, Severus, but we really ought to try and send you back. You’re not safe here.”

“Eighteen years,” he muttered. “Why eighteen years?”

Hermione suspected he was talking to himself and she watched his expression twist with pain when he used one hand to push up from the floor, getting off her and sitting back on his haunches, his eyes tracing over her face when she slowly sat up, too.

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted. “Do you know how you got here? Time-Turners weren’t accessible when you were… well, where you’ve come from in history. Did something happen to send you here?”

He nodded sharply. “Potions accident,” he said, frowning. “But it wasn’t supposed to transport me through time. Just to let me look forward.”

“You took Cassandra’s Concoction?” Hermione asked, her eyes widening in horror. “That’s terribly dangerous. You could have died!”

“What’s Cassandra’s Concoction?” he asked blankly, frowning at her. “That’s not in any of my potions books.”

“Oh no,” Hermione whispered. “Bugger. This is not the ideal time for you to have just shown up, you know?”

“Oh, sorry,” he sneered. “Next time I’m flung through time unintentionally, I’ll be sure to better plan my trip to avoid inconveniencing you.”

“And you’re just as sharp at seventeen as you are at thirty-five,” Hermione muttered, shaking her head. “Bugger. I don’t have time to figure out how to send you back, right now. If I don’t get to detention soon, the other version of you – the one belonging to this time – is going to come looking for me.”

“I end up a teacher?” he asked, looking utterly horrified.

“Oh… um… yes,” Hermione said, blushing when she realized she’d just given that little titbit of information away.

“How?” he asked. “Why? I hate other people.”

“Yes, I’d gathered that,” Hermione said dryly. “Are you injured?”

Snape frowned at her before noting the way she was holding her wand aloft and eyeing the burns on his skin.

“I was hexed and sent stumbling into the potion I was brewing that would’ve let me look into the future,” he shrugged. “Burned myself on it when the Stunning spell Black flung at me made it explode. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, delightful,” Hermione muttered, pulling herself to her feet and watching him rise, too.

She was surprised by his height. As an adult he towered over her, naturally, but it seemed he’d hit that growth spurt in his teens because there was perhaps only an inch or two of difference between this version of him and the Professor who so taunted her and her peers.

“Let me see,” she said, reaching for him, intending to heal him.

He stepped back and drew a Shield Charm up between them so fast that had she blinked, she’d have missed it. Her eyes widened.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she frowned. “I can probably heal those burns for you.”

“You can’t,” he shook his head. “I tried.”

“Let me give it a go,” she said. “I haven’t got time to take you to the nurse, and you can’t just go wandering off through the castle by yourself in this time when you look like that. Someone will recognize you, like I’ve done, or they’ll report you for a Death Eater invading the school and terrorizing the students.”

“I’m not a Death Eater,” he said tightly, and Hermione got the feeling from the way he twitched his left arm that he either would be soon, or already was one and was lying about it.

“You’ll be reported for one and hauled in front of the Headmaster – well, Headmistress, now, since that bitch invaded – and then you’ll be questioned extensively about how you got into the castle, why no one has ever seen you before in any of our classes, and about where you’ve come from. Do you understand? You’re not safe, right now. And if I don’t get you back to 1977 or whatever year it is that you’ve come from, then the entire time-line you belong on might be forever altered. You could erase yourself and everything the current you of this time has done."

“How do I know you’re not just fucking with me?” he asked suspiciously. “For all I know, Black hexed me, knocked me unconscious, stole all my stuff, and sent some frizzy witch down here to convince me I’ve travelled through time just to get me into trouble again.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, scanning his face carefully and realizing in a heartbeat that there was nothing she would be able to say to him to convince him of her genuineness. She would have to show him.

“Very well,” she said. “If you don’t believe me, by all means, accompany me to detention with Professor Severus Snape. We’ll see what he makes of you, and if you go mad well…. I suppose it means I won’t get detention, now doesn’t it?”

He narrowed his eyes on her and Hermione lowered her wand, before brushing past him and continuing down the corridor in the direction of Professor Snape’s office. No sound of footsteps followed her, and Hermione wondered if perhaps he didn’t believe her. She stopped just before she reached the door, intent on looking over her shoulder. She stumbled again when he walked right into her, having followed so closely and so silently that he collided with her once more. Hermione squeaked when one of his arms slid around her middle instinctively to keep her from stumbling into the door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, sounding all the more annoyed and hissing quietly at the way the grip he had on her tweaked the burns on his hands.

“I didn’t realize you’d followed me,” Hermione said. “I couldn’t hear you behind me.”

“Just open the fucking door,” he hissed irritably. “If this is a prank, I’m going to make you regret it, witch. You’ll rue the day you let a mangy cur like Black talk you into trying to make a fool of me.”

Hermione frowned as he jerked his arm away from her and shoved her forward, forcing her to bump into the door.

“Enter,” a cold voice called from inside the classroom.

Hermione frowned at the almost polite command and her eyes widened when she recalled that Umbridge would likely be inside. The last thing they needed was that nosy toad spotting this younger version of Severus Snape.

“Erm… I should Disillusion you,” Hemione said, turning and finding Snape very much inside her personal space, breathing down her neck.

“Why?” he demanded. “I don’t trust any witch aiming a wand at me if she won’t even give me her name.”

“Oh. Right. I’m Hermine Granger,” she said, offering him her hand to shake.

He raised one doubtful eyebrow before showing her the nasty blisters on his hand. Hermione thought better of the handshake, knowing it would cause him pain to bother with the formal greeting.

“Right. Look, the elder version of you is inside, but another one of our teachers – a Ministry witch bent on power and overthrowing the entire school – is probably in there too, intent on gloating about me being punished for the duel I got into in class today. If she sees you, you’ll never get away. The less people from this time who realize you’re here, the better, Severus.”

“I’ll take my chances, since I know you’re lying. Open the door,” he hissed quietly, and Hermione shuddered at the way he practically radiated authority even at just seventeen.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered, intent on trying to prevent mayhem.

The decision was taken out of her hands when, from behind her, the classroom door was snatched open and the elder Severus Snared glared down his imposing nose at the pair of them.

Hermione closed her eyes in horror, her mind flailing, trying to think of some excuse as Professor’s Snape’s eyes dragged over her critically before landing on the younger version of himself. His eyes widened slightly in surprise before narrowing dangerously, and Hermione could almost hear the accusation in his expression.

Before she could open her mouth to offer some explanation for this twisted turn of events, the seventeen-year-old version of Severus Snape opened his mouth and blurted out a word that almost made both the Professor and Hermione choke in shock.

“Dad?”

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lovehugsandcandy · 5 years ago

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Eight Days a Week, Eight Seconds a Kiss (Part 10/Epilogue 2) (Colt x MC)

A/N: Happy Birthday, Des @ desireepow-1986. Wingman Colt is the story that won’t die! Originally, there were only supposed to be 2 epilogues but I realized I needed another to set up the actual last one so here you go!

Length: ~1600 words

Rating: PG-13 (drunken antics, swearing)

Six Years Later: Pushing Our Luck, Getting Wiped Out

She didn’t step off the curb. She didn’t fall either, because that would have been embarrassing. Instead, the curb moved, warping underneath her foggy eyes, and her feet were already having a hard time on flat pavement anyway, so, when the curb shifted, so did she, falling into Riya as they collapsed together into a pool of limbs and uproarious laughter under the streetlights.

“Oh my God, Ellie!” Riya squirmed under her, and it took a full minute for Ellie to stop laughing and clamber up. “I’m gossiping here.”

She slurred the words. Riya was drunk as she was, so they both had a hard time standing. “I know, I’m sorry, just-the curb jumped!”

“Oh my God.” They linked arms and wandered away from the club, listing as they walked, and Riya continued her story. “So, anyway, my old roommate thought she was dating this guy for a year, a whole freaking year, and it turned out they were in a situationship and he was sleeping with half of Detroit!”

“Oh no- wait, what’s a situationship?”

“Oh, Ellie…” Riya stopped to pull out her phone and check on her ride. “You are so- it’s when a guy doesn’t ask you to be his girlfriend but lets you assume he is while he’s dating other people too.”

“Oh, that sucks. It’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about that; you and Darius have been together forever.”

“I know,” Riya sighed dreamily.

Ellie was looking at her phone, tracking how far away her own ride was, when her heart fell. Colt had never asked her to be his girlfriend. They finally finally kissed and, after that, had been inseparable as she finished senior year; since she moved back to LA after school, it seemed like everything had continued normally, just as it had been before. They spent so much time together that Ellie had assumed that… but what if…? “Riya?” She looked up from her phone in a panic. “Riya, am I in a situationship?”

“What?”

She grabbed Riya’s arm. “Colt never really asked me to be his girlfriend. Not even when I was in high school! Riya, Riya, what if-”

“But-”

“I mean, he made some vague comment to Toby that we were together but he never really asked…”

“Ellie, I don’t-”

“What if I’m in a situationship?!?” Her wail was cut off as her cell phone vibrated and she realized that they were right next to a gray Ford Focus. Or a Nissan something or other? For someone with a penchant for luxury cars, she had always been awful at differentiating one sedan from another, especially after she and Riya polished off far too many glasses of rosé at their biweekly girl’s nights. And maybe the car was black. Actually, it was so dark that maybe it was maroon, but it didn’t matter anyway because the license plates matched and she had to get in. “I have to go.”

“Ellie, wait-” Riya stuttered, looking up at her with confused eyes.

“Text me when you get home, ok?”

“I will.”

Ellie shut the door and waved, taking in her best friend’s worried expression, one that she was sure was echoed on her own face. The entire ride home, she picked at her fingernails and panicked. Had he played her for a fool this entire time? When the Dryve finally pulled up in front of the apartment, she stumbled out and up the stairs, legs moving quickly, both the anxiety and desire to outrun the spinning hallways making her hustle.

“Colt?!?” she yelled as she flew through the door, ignoring the crash as she dropped her purse to the floor. She heard everything tumble out, wallet and keys spilling across the room, but ignored it in her shuffle to the bedroom. She would clean it up tomorrow; this was more important. “Colt!”

The door slammed open as she rushed in, skidding to a stop at the foot of the bed.

“What?”

“Colt!” She collapsed, pitching herself forward so she could crawl to his side. He was still half-asleep, eyes dazed as he blinked and hair sticking up in pointed tufts around his face. “Whoa. You look like an anime.”

“What the…?” He pushed up on his elbows, still out of it. “What time is it?”

Her brain started again, and she recalled what she had been thinking as tears spring anew to her eyes. “Colt,” she started and, to her embarrassment, broke into sobs.

“Hey…” He was awake now, eyes flashing across her face, wild and frantic; he got this expression on his face every time Ellie burst into tears: it was a cross between a desperate need to make it stop and an absolute astonishment that he, he who has hatched plans to steal cars and kill cops and a million other precise schemes, that he, of all people, cannot immediately conjure a plan that will soothe whatever ails her. That look was on his face as he realized that she was rapidly becoming a sobbing mess.

“Colt---” she hiccuped and words were painful through her dry, worried throat. “Are we in a situationship?”

“What?” He shifted closer so he could reach her, fingers gentle as they slid down her arm. “Are you ok?”

“Are we-” She had to wipe her cheeks; moisture was blurring his face, turning him into a mirage, twisting and turning on the bed in front of her. Was he moving or was it the wine? “Are we in a situationship?”

“What in the world is a…are you drunk?!?”

“No.” She hiccuped again and then burst into hysterics. “It’s just that Riya was talking about this girl from school and she thought she was dating someone but then we tripped over the curb and I might have left my phone in the Dryve.”

He said nothing at first, only gaped at her before hesitantly speaking. “I think you should-”

“Are we in a situationship?!? Why won’t you answer me!!!”

“What the hell is a situationship?”

“It’s when you think you’re in a relationship but it’s actually not, you’re just hooking up with me and I’m not actually your girlfriend.”

“Ellie, for Christ’s sake…” he muttered.

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend!”

“Ellie, we live together.”

Her wail got caught in her throat, and her shoulders dropped as she peers at him. “Oh.” He had a point. “But you never asked-”

“Ellie.” He cradled her cheeks with both hands. “You smell like you fell in a vat of rosé and drank your way out. You’re drunk. You’re drunk as fuck and you’re not gonna remember this conversation tomorrow. And that’s the only reason I’m gonna tell you this.”

“Tell me what?”

“I’m not gonna ask you to be my girlfriend.”

“You’re not?” Her heart broke; she could hear the shattering sound in her chest and, if her limbs weren’t so heavy, she would walk out the door of their apartment and head straight to Riya’s where she could self-medicate her mortification with even more rosé and her best friend.

“No. I’m gonna ask you to be my wife.”

Her mouth fell open, and she had to sniff back even more tears. “You are?”

“Uh huh.”

“Like right now?”

“Dear God, not right now,” he chuckled. “You wouldn’t remember, anyway.”

“But like…” Her body wasn’t working; she could think of words, lots of them, but they were failing to make their way to her mouth. “You’re gonna...wait. Do you have a ring?”

He only smirked. “If I gave it to you now, you’d lose it.”

“Colt?”

“Yeah?”

She sat back on her heels to study him, and even that simple movement made the room spin. “We’re not in a situationship, are we?”

“No, Ellie. No, we’re not.”

“Oh.”

“Can we please go to sleep now?”

She nodded, subdued and mollified, breaking into a dumb smile aided by the copious amount of alcohol in her veins. “Ok.” She watched him settle into bed before she headed to the bathroom, hands shaky, dragging on her pajamas over leaden feet. And even though she walked into her bureau, she couldn’t stop the smile from splitting her face.

She had just slid next to him, sheets cool on her overheated skin, when the alcohol compeled her to speak again. “You wanna marry me…”

“I can’t really tell you why at this very second.”

“It’s cuz you loooove me.”

“I would love you a lot more if you just let me sleep.”

She settled her head on the pillow and giggled, bright and happy in the darkness of their bedroom.

“Ellie!”

“Sorry, sorry.” She made it five seconds before the giggles started again, her drunken happiness making her way through her warm cheeks.

“Ellie!” He rolled over to glare at her, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips rendered the effort at intimidation ineffective.

“You love me!”

He rolled his eyes but responded to her baiting, anyway. “Yes. Yes, I love you.”

“Even when I’m drunk.”

“Even when you’re drunk.”

“Even when I think we’re in a situationship.”

“Even when you make up terms for scenarios that make no sense,” he murmured with a shake of his head.

“Even when I tear apart this apartment looking for the ring.”

“Even- wait, what?”

She smiled, burrowing into his arms. “Imma find it.”

“You won’t.”

“I will.” She was warm, content, eyes slowly opening and closing against his chest. “I will. I swear.”

But, despite her fervent promises, the only thing she remembered when she woke up the next morning, through her throbbing head and roiling stomach, was that she felt very, very loved.

#hbd des #amy writes

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artemismoon12writes · 5 years ago

Text

Title: A Hot Day

Daltonfic Big Bang: Week 5, Day 7: NSFW Wildcard 5 Dwiladie Vegas AU Continuity; Laura and Sadie have some time with just each other for one of the hottest days of the summer.

“Laura, honey, it’s too hot for sex.” Sadie complained, turning the air conditioner down another two degrees, wondering if maybe it was broken. They were in the middle of the desert, but even this was ridiculous for Vegas.

“You’re too hot.” Laura grinned, hugging her fiancée around the shoulders. “Come on, it’s been like, a week since you’ve have a day off from the shop. I wanna be with you.”

“That was a shitty pickup line.” Sadie still couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her as Laura brushed her hair aside, tickling her neck before kissing it.

“Yeah well, I’m all out of the good ones. I had to steal from Dwight’s repertoire.” Laura insisted, pressing another kiss under Sadie’s ear.

“If he was here he’d tell you it was shitty even for his standards.”

“Yeah well he’s not. He’s in Kansas, which is not a desert- and goddamn why did we move to the desert?” Laura sighed, not letting go of Sadie.

“Because we don’t know anyone here and we wanted to avoid them for a while; so we could just be us.” Sadie repeated the same old mantra.

Laura smiled into Sadie’s neck, “So… why can’t we just be us for a while? Just you and me?”

Sadie sighed; but the air conditioning did seem to be kicking in, and she had missed Laura this week…

“Can we get the tower fan at least?”

“Um, duh.” Laura said, spinning Sadie around and leaning down to kiss her. “I wouldn’t want you to be sweating for any other reason than-”

Sadie laughed, rolling her eyes. “Laura! Come on! You need better lines!”

Laura pressed a quick kiss to Sadie’s lips before escaping into the bedroom. “Let a girl try!”

“I resent you referring yourself to anything other than a woman since you decided to get taller than me!” Sadie called, following Laura who was already turning on the tower fan in the bedroom.

“I got taller than you at like? 16 though? It’s been way too many years for you to keep complaining about that.”

The fan did a world of good in cooling down the bedroom; but even with the blinds drawn Sadie still knew the steaming pavement and melting tires were waiting for them outside the townhouse; itching for them to step outside and roast in the Nevada heat. Maybe they should get a basement dug, if only to have a place to retreat in the summers.

Laura rolled out onto their bed, sprawling like a starfish. “Come on, don’t make me do all the work.”

“This was your idea, I thought you were treating me.” Sadie teased, one hand on her hip. “I expect to be dazzled.”

Laura rolled off the bed, stepping up to Sadie, “Oh I can dazzle. But like, are you ready for what I throw at you?”

“You’re being silly.” She said, looking up at Laura’s goofy grin. “Just kiss me before you start really sounding stupid.”

“I’m trying to woo you.” Laura said, tilting Sadie’s chin up, her smile crinkling the corners of her dark blue eyes. “Let me woo.”

“Woo away honey.” Sadie said, softly as Laura kissed her. Gently at first, before nibbling at her lower lip and deepening it with a tilt of her head. Sadie gasped, Laura’s hand in her long hair and pulling her closer.

As hot as it was, they didn’t waste time shedding their layers, making a game of it to throw each item in a different corner of the room. It was laundry day tomorrow anyways; picking up shorts from the lamp in the corner was easier than bending down to the floor.

At least that’s what Laura said when Sadie pointed it out; any further observations were rendered moot by Laura sliding her hands up Sadie’s sides, smoothing rolling flesh under hand and tracing a line to her breasts. Sadie bit back a giggle, sitting back on the bed and letting Laura touch her. It was purposeful and sure; they didn’t have to explore each other, because they’d already seen and discovered each other over and over, though there were always surprises, nothing was unfamiliar.

Sadie caught Laura’s neck, pulling her in for another kiss, Laura’s thumbs against her nipples, peaking to the touch. The tip of her tongue against Laura’s always made her catch her breath- even for just a moment. Each roll of Laura’s thumbs was consistent and soft, the way Sadie liked. It didn’t have to be hard; if it was too much all at once, she just ended up with a restless sheet of energy settling under her skin, weighing her down and not letting her get off, just plateauing uselessly. They had to build it slower.

“That’s good, just like that.” Sadie tightened her fingers for a moment, settling her hands on Laura’s shoulders.

Laura switched pressure but kept consistent, drawing a pleased noise from Sadie. “Glad to know I’m not rusty.”

“It’s been a week, not a year.” Sadie huffed, rolling her neck around working out a crick. “Besides, you’re always good to me. Huh, hey move up.”

Laura had her knee resting between Sadie’s legs on the bed, but they scooted up and over so Sadie could lay on her back. She shoved the pillows up behind her head, rolling another under her bottom so Laura wouldn’t strain herself.

“God we’re old. I need assistance to go down on my girlfriend.” Laura said, complaining into Sadie’s neck, pressing a quick kiss there before nipping her collarbone.

“Fiancée dear. Don’t tell me you forgot?” Sadie teased, nudging Laura’s side with her knee. Laura rubbed her thigh, settling between them.

“I didn’t, I just think girlfriend sounds cuter until I get to call you my wife.” Laura yelped at Sadie shoving her playfully.

“Gods, you’re so weird!” Sadie said, but her flush betrayed her real opinion. Laura took that as an invitation to jump back up, kissing her between giggles. Her hands rubbed circles on Sadie’s hips; the length of their bodies too hot to stay like this in the Vegas heat, but for the moment? It was worth it.

Laura bit her lip, teeth flashing in a bright grin. “You love me Sade.”

Sadie softened. “Of course I do.”

“Love you too.” Laura pressed another quick kiss to her mouth before nipping her ear and the side of her breast, back on track to her original plan; hands on Sadie’s thighs, stroking long lines against dark skin.

“You’re not too hot? I can turn the fan higher.”

“I’m good.” Sadie tucked her hair out of her face, tracing her sternum methodically for something to do with her hands. “You’re comfy down there?”

“It’s my favourite place.” Laura grinned wickedly, kissing Sadie’s inner thigh. Her hands got closer to the trimmed thatch of curls with every pass. Green eyes closed, concentrating on breathing slowly and hitching her hips up in the smallest of rocking motions. Laura licked a thumb and moved closer again; Sadie chuckled, shifting up.

Laura looked up, fingers pausing. “Do you want to use lube Sade?”

Sadie thought about it, opening her eyes to the ceiling. The cool breeze from the fan was welcome, but distracting. She shifted, “I’m good, unless you want to use the strap on?”

“No; it’s too hot for that unless you want to go on your front- oh, oh yeah.” She said belatedly, her thumb’s circling reaching Sadie’s lips and slipping in easily.

Sadie breathed in, rubbing her cheek against her shoulder, letting out the breath with satisfaction. “Oh that’s nice. Are you going to be like this every time I’m not completely wet down my thighs?”

“I hate the taste of the lube, but you’re worth it.”

“This is why you, ah, take your time.” Sadie leant back onto the pillow, squirming up as Laura ducked down to press her tongue against Sadie’s clit, switching to her pointer finger curling into Sadie. “Oh, in and out- not curling.”

Laura complied, circling Sadie’s clit with her tongue keeping pressure even; her other hand pulling the curls away to let her mouth work away against Sadie’s rocking hips. Sadie whined, her legs pulling back towards her. She ran her nails lightly against her stomach, wanting to touch, to feel. The energy under her skin was vibrating, thrumming with the slow build Laura did to her so well. Laura’s arm against her lower belly kept her from bucking too unexpectedly. It didn’t stop her from scratching Laura’s arm as her hands went by.

“I like that, you’re doing great.” Sadie tried to stay consistent, but Laura was throwing in a random flick with her tongue, or sucking quickly, before going back to the steady circles. Sadie’s breathing was getting shallower, swallowing whines as the feeling of pleasure mounted.

“Two fingers?”

“Three.” Sadie twitched upwards, grasping at Laura’s finger sliding in and out of her in slick, solid motions. She could hear how wet she was getting, how she sounded against Laura’s tongue.

“Greedy.” Laura murmured between Sadie’s legs, only adding one more finger anyways. She knelt lower, her own thighs rubbing together; sticky from sweat and how much she couldn’t wait for Sadie to return the favour.

A whine. Laura smiled, picking up the pace minutely; switching directions to lap against Sadie’s clit- pausing between licks and enjoying Sadie’s needy sounds.

“Please?” Sadie asked, rocking up in jerky motions, gripping the fabric beneath them. She could hear her heart getting louder in her ears, a throbbing want in her thighs to press against Laura and have her hands sink deep in her. “Ah!”

Laura kept going; steady hands and a hungry tongue, tasting Sadie go from thick and bitter to salty slick. She caught a look, Sadie’s chin tucked against her chest and whining. She made such cute noises, high pitched and shaky. She’d only made her cry once, a marathon after they’d gotten engaged; it left Laura with hand cramps and two sets of lips swollen and throbbing for what felt like forever. But it was always nice to hear those shaky sounds; Sadie squeaking, her ankle springing up and onto Laura’s back, urging her forward.

She couldn’t talk huh? She was getting close. Laura kept at it for another minute before pressing her whole mouth down, jerking her fingers up and curled in fast, quick motions. Her tongue flicked side to side with hard swipes; pulling gasps and moans from her fiancée’s mouth. Sadie squeaked, swearing and thrusting up against Laura’s ministrations.

Come on babe, Laura thought, keeping the blitz going; smelling the dark scent of Sadie’s sweat between soft thighs which couldn’t keep still with how much she was moving.

A choked swear- ah there it was. Laura curled her fingers in deeper, rubbing the rougher patch she knew would do Sadie in. She was rewarded with Sadie raking her neck with her nails, her chest rising in a silent moan as she came against Laura’s tongue. The rocking was erratic, more thrusting hips without direction; it was fun to try to make the peak last, to see how long the flush would stay on Sadie’s skin, how unfocused she got as she lost herself in the feeling Laura gave her.

“Little more, come on babe.” Laura said, leaning up and rubbing Sadie’s slick clit with her free hand, curling in with her other. She leaned back to draw the last ragged breaths from Sadie with a satisfied smile.

Sadie gasped, eyes opening to Laura’s slowing motions. She couldn’t just stop; Sadie was still shaky, clutching at her skin with trembling hands.

“You always look so good when I make you come.” Laura said, biting her lip.

Sadie pushed her hair back again; it’d gotten messy as she moved. “Flatterer.”

“I do what I can.” Laura teased, finally letting Sadie rest; wiping her fingers on the discarded tank top.

She crawled up, lying beside Sadie on her side. Sadie let her legs fall open, resisting the urge to play with her soaked curls. She felt well sated, a glow she couldn’t stop smiling from.

“You’re so good at this.” Sadie said, looking at her fiancée with a smile.

“I practice.” Laura admitted with amusement in her eyes. Sadie met and matched that look.

“Well, give me a minute; I want to get my fingers in you, but I have to catch my breath.”

“Take all the time in the world.” Laura said.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#daltonficbigbang2020 #daltonfic #exp #otp #ladie motorbike #laura bancroft #sadie moore #vegas au #oneshot #artemiswrites

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 6 years ago

Text

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT. AU) pt.4

04: Fraternizing with the enemy

Summary: A blast from the past, body painting and a possible threat?

Warnings: swearing, implying smut, angst

Word count: 3000

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST

Special thanks to @godlydolans for being in the story as Yashi Singh

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1389 years ago

"It took us three fucking years to get her to this point! Don't mess up now!" Hermes whisper shouts, pushing Apollo.

Apollo shoots his brother a disapproving look, followed by a subtle sneer.

"And I actually...like this one." Hermes admits shyly, almost as if he's ashamed of himself too.

Apollo's eyes widen, nearly popping out in shock and disgust for his brother.

"You like...a...human?" Apollo gags, shaking his head vehemently. The very thought nauseated him. Humans were never anything more than flesh to Apollo, not even now.

"We're meant to use them as a means to an end, not actually develop feelings, brother!" Apollo speaks matter of factually, still in disbelief that they're even having this conversation and only minutes before admitting the truth to Yashi Singh, their current reason for squabble.

"She's not...insufferable like the others." Hermes defends, only getting a backhanded slap from his brother.

"If you focused more on the task at hand, maybe we wouldn't be spending our immortality chasing mortal women in vain!" Apollo adds, turning back to the door in an instant once he hears them open.

A woman of mere five feet and seven inches walks in, lips pursed and that tiny freckle on her cupid bow a little more visible with the action. Black braids fall about Yashi's face creating soft shadows under her cheekbones, but the rest of her hair flowed down her back like black ink of a tilted piece of parchment. Her eyes are black, not soulless nor lifeless. Instead they are like two pristine stones of onyx, that light up with a purple flare when touched by candle light.

She tilts her head, revealing one of her golden earrings with one of her braids joining flowing ink on her back.

"Why are you here?" Her sharp tone takes the brothers by surprise, finding it unusual for she was nothing if not a classy, gentle soul. Hermes deemed her to be a hopeless romantic, while Apollo always knew despite her gentleness that she's also very stubborn and short tempered. It's unusual due to her heritage, Athena being her root to Mount Olympus, but they didn't think much of it.

"We needed to talk to you about something very important." Hermes speaks first, not giving Apollo a chance. He is the one that cares for the potter's daughter after all. He admired her pottery skills and even more her beautiful sketches. Her artistry demanded his respect and attention.

"If it's about you being gods of Mount Olympus, spare me. I know of your lies now." She lifts her head high, accentuating her sharp nose with the move, not failing to see the brothers pale once she uncovers their schemes in a simple sentence.

Six words...they knew it was over in six words.

"How?" Apollo asks, noticing Hermes is rendered speechless.

"Athena told me. It was enough for me to see through your lies and I can't believe I let myself care for either of you." Yashi puffed, turning her head to the side trying to forget how they affected her from the start.

The pull was undeniable, so pure and so strong that it took the breath from her lungs. The very first time Hermes smiled at her, she nearly had an orgasm right then and there, let alone when she let him take her in every way possible. She would have taken him as a husband without a second thought, but his deceit had made her heart close for him and there was nothing but a mist of hate in her heart and mind for him now.

She'd forgive his lies had they not mortified her pride and claimed her honor.

"Athena?" Apollo frowns, his incredibly handsome features darkening once he realized that the gods themselves are working against him and his brother. He couldn't understand how or why, wondering why that happened.

"She came to me in a dream and told me all of your dirty little secrets. Now I must ask you to leave at once and never return or the next time I see you I won't be as merciful, nor will my fiance." She dropped the news of her engagement on the brothers, ordering them removed from not only her home but city as well, effectively taking their chance of going home and crushing it to dust.

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Present

"I have rules, so listen up." Y/N licks her lips, trying not to stare at the rock hard abs that basically invited everyone's attention. It's impossible not to stare when two guys with godly physique are half naked before you.

"No touching while I work. Keep the chatter to a minimum...and bend your knees." She adds the last bit with a blush when Grayson's smile grows wide and alluding.

"Bend my knees?" He chuckles at her, suggestively raising his eyebrows and Ethan flicks his shoulder for the flirtation.

"So you don't faint, frat boy." She rolls her eyes at him to cover up how fast her heart is galloping inside her chest.

"Sure. But I can't promise to be quiet." Grayson bites his lower lip before smirking, forming a small dimple Y/N never noticed before, mostly because she both avoided to stare at his face and his company. Her eyes are enthralled with him.

His eyes were like crisp toffee drizzled in melted chocolate and framed with darling lashes. A button nose and burrowed cheekbones, his appearance only to die for. She couldn't help but notice leathery, nearly black strands flopping over his face which to her distaste are veiling some of his enticing features. So perfect, yet so frustrating that she could bear no social contact with that sensuous man.

"Fine." She huffed, reaching out and pushing back the loose strands of his hair back in place. It was an instinct more than conscious action, one that took her by surprise just as much as Grayson.

She blinked fast, realizing what she did, quickly gathering necessary paint to start her work on Grayson so he could let her poor heart rest.

"You know, I never liked this rule about KDRs and Kappa's not interacting." Grayson begins, his eyes flickering from Ethan who laid back on her bed in his underwear and fidgeted with his phone and back to Y/N and her laser focused gaze that burned his thighs thus making his job of keeping his downstairs in check much harder.

"Why is the rule in place anyway?" She looks up briefly, biting down on her lower lip to continue her work. She choose a turquoise paint, a blend of baby blue and green - colors they both love. She remembered that about him.

If that's not fraternizing with the enemy, what is?

"You don't know?" Grayson smirks, averting his gaze to the ceiling for a moment before deciding to inform her thoroughly.

"When Kappa's and KDR were first formed, our leaders were actually in love and dating. However, when they broke up, Kappa's house burned down the same night and Kappa's always blamed our frat for it. Since they didn't have a house and they refused to move in with KDRs as rules demanded, the Kappa sorority was out of commission in Dartmouth for the next two years, but they didn't stand idly by until KDR went down with them. They planted evidence and got our leader and two more members expelled from school and ever since then, the rule remained. It's to remind us that love can turn to hate and partnership to vengeance." Grayson explains, taking note of her small pause when her hand covered the last of his legs and the tattoos he acquired over the centuries.

"Sounds like Romeo and Juliet had they lived and gotten a divorce." She mussed, but her mind was all over the place. She must write it down in the Kappa's book, the sisters should know their history.

"Something like that." Grayson confirms, wiggling his hips lightly which prompted Y/N to giggle.

"Settle down Shakira, I'm done in a few." And with a few giggles in between, she finished Grayson and beckoned Ethan to stand in, deciding to paint him white and black. He always exuded a black and white aura in her mind.

"Do you ever miss home?" Ethan asks, knowing she's a freshman and probably has parents back home who love her.

"I...don't. My father's never home and my mum passed away a few years back." She answers, swallowing tears when her mother crossed her mind. She misses the people, but not the big, empty house.

"Do you?" She inquires before either brother has a chance to offer their condolences or pitiful looks she's used to receiving, but hates nonetheless.

"I do." Grayson interjects, looking to his brother.

"I don't." Ethan shrugs, like none of it hurts him. But he didn't lie.

Hermes likes Earth. He likes indulging himself in all earthly pleasures, women in particular. He's also very bitter about the last couple of years he spent in his world when he worked for Hades, his uncle. Hermes was his successor in case something happened, which made him gleeful. But when Hades took his sister Persephone as his wife against her will and tricked her to stay in the underworld forever...that really made everything impossibly hard for Hermes. He tried to save his sister, he fought for her freedom for he loved her and wished her to have a choice in those she spends an eternity with.

But he failed and he never forgave himself for that.

The only reason why Hermes would be interested in going back is to kill his dear uncle Hades and claim his throne, but never because he misses home. As far as he's concerned Mount Olympus can burn and all the treacherous gods that abandoned him and his brother can burn with it.

But that's not the only reason why.

Hermes doesn't think any girl will take him over Apollo, the actual patron of love and beauty and art. It's a complex from the past where Apollo was worshiped for his good looks and Hermes was more of a worker bee than worshiped by anyone other than the working class and the gods who appreciated him for being a messenger...and well, the dead who needed to cross over into the underworld who found him to be comforting and kind, despite his job. He liked his job for it gave him a chance to travel not only in this world, but other dimensions, however, it does leave one scarred and confidence damaged. He knows his fate is to live and die on Earth and he's made his peace with that.

"Oh." Y/N's unsure what to say, noticing some tension rise in the room, not wanting to start anything between the brothers. She focused on the task at hand, working her hands and her magic on Ethan's tattoos in order to cover them up, finding them just as dark as him.

She always felt Ethan has sharper features than Grayson. His cheekbones are more defined and his eyes are a little more intense which is why he's more intimidating than Grayson, but his entire body gives off a darker vibe, something she can't quite put her finger on, but knows is there.

"I, uh. I should warn you Blair had a video of us singing One thing and she wanted to use it against you." Ethan's words freeze her, making her nails dig into his sides unintentionally.

"Had?" Y/N's eyes connect with his. Ethan's expression was pleasant, with an inkling of wistfulness, while the soft glimmer of his lucid eyes betrayed the poet and the dreamer. He'd never admit it out loud, but he liked the bit of pain her nails caused.

"I may have stolen her phone and set it to factory settings." He glances at the phone he was so taken with previously, bringing about the brightest smile on her face. It destroyed any ounce of worry that overtook her features previously, making him very satisfied with himself.

"If we weren't in a house full of people who'd burn us at the stake, I would hug your mischievous ass right now!" She whisper shouts, jumping on her tiptoes ever so slightly from happiness.

"Your smile is reward enough." Ethan smiles back, genuine and soft for her.

Grayson clears his throat, ending their moment and reminding Y/N to keep working before someone suspects something.

Once done, the boys were all asked to leave and a very annoyed, tomato red Blair congratulated the girls before leaving them alone to their own devices.

Y/N immediately returned to her room, jumping to her bed with a deep sigh. She felt her mind wander like crazy, bouncing between two brothers who both seem to be interested in her which made the matter at hands much worse.

Even the sheets smelled of them after they spent hours rolling on them and she still couldn't force herself to change them. Grayson felt like - spring. He smells clean, like laundry and flowers freshly picked from the garden. Ethan is more musky - like autumn. His smell reminds her of earth after rain, the leafs and a touch of very expensive cologne.

She heard a peck on her window, making her roll on her stomach and lift her head only to find Grayson on his window with a large white paper and black letters she couldn't read properly until she stood and approached the window.

CHECK YOUR PHONE

Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion, turning to her bed to grab her phone only to find a message.

Grayson: Took the liberty of adding my number to your contacts. Hope you don't mind.

He actually types full sentences instead of using abbreviations? I knew I like him for a reason.

Y/N: As long as it remains between us, it's not a problem.

She knew it wasn't right, but how can something so wrong feel so good?

Grayson: Wanna tell me about the art in your room?

Y/N looked around, finding only three paintings and all three looked different. One was a simple red rose, the other a cliff and the third...the one she liked the most was of the ocean at breaking dawn.

She stood up, closing in on the painting, watching every detail for it reminded her of something...of someone. And that's when she sees it - initials...her mother's initials in the bottom right corner.

Putting a hand to the initials, she feels her bottom lip quiver and her eyes brim with tears. There are more ways to immortalize your stay in a Kappa's room and her mother chose art - what she did best, her greatest passion.

She plops on the bed, staring up at the painting.

Y/N: It's my mum's. The ocean one.

She sniffles, seeing dots appear on her screen that indicate he's typing his response.

Grayson: Your mum was a very talented artist. That belongs in a gallery.

Smiling softly at the screen, she glances over her shoulder at Grayson who still stood at his window and he didn't bother hiding it or playing games with her. He's not running from the interest he's shown her and it's refreshing.

Y/N: Thank you for talking to me about this...I might have never seen it on my own. I owe you.

Grayson: Nonsense. I'm just happy you have a piece of her with you. Sweet dreams, pretty girl.

With the last message, she smiled at him, getting his famous tiny wave in return.

She turned the lights off, falling asleep with ease for the first time in a long time. Little did she know she'd be haunted in her dreams now as well.

Standing in darkness, Y/N found herself weary, but not scared. Not really.

"You're finally here." She hears a gaunt voice, turning in circles to find the source but failing until a spark of dark purple appears at her side and a woman takes form.

She stood before her, as clear as anything she had ever seen before, behind her a dark ocean turning wavy and a moon brightly shining, which in turn illuminations her face into almost a ball of light. Her eyes are emerald green, eclipsed by her pupils, her skin as pale as the very moon above her head. Her curved, nearly black lips resembled a smile, the black of her hair cascading down her face which perfectly matches her lavish black dress.

"Who are you?" Y/N whispers in wonder, feeling an unexplained connection to the woman before her, one reminding her of a connection she felt toward the gorgeous twins.

"Your past." The woman reaches out, her icy cold fingertips touch Y/N's shoulder, the black nail polish standing out against her skin.

"Your present." She starts to circle Y/N, her touch bringing shivers to Y/N's body.

"Your future." She steps before her, grabbing both her shoulders almost violently before a sneer-like smile takes her face.

"I am you and you are me and together...we'll bring the world to its knees."

Y/N wakes up, sitting up instantly. Her body drenched in cold sweat, her clammy hands shaken and her body numb and tingling from the nightmare...it felt too real.

Looking to her window, she sees Grayson's asleep, barely covered with sheets and a lot of the paint still clinging to his body. It helps her mind unravel and shake the dream off.

She sits in her bay window, watching Grayson instead of the sky until she lulls herself to sleep.

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Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart @heeydolan @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch @fallinginlove-16 @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid @dinnerwiththedolans @graydolan12 @justanotherfangurl272 @dxlansfxck @godlydolans @flowery-dolan

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan x reader #ethan dolan x reader #Greek Mythology #GREEK GOD AU #greek gods #Apollo #Hermes #dolan twins greek god au #ethan dolan au #grayson dolan au

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pride-prejudice-and-vampires · 6 years ago

Text

Half in Anguish/Half in Hope || Jane & Will

Wind whipped her hair stinging her eyes as the ends lashed against them. Her scarf threatened to blow away in the sea breeze. There was no avoiding the sun, though it was starting to go down so it had less power over her. The shadows from the buildings allowed her to walk with almost complete confidence that the sun would barely touch her. This made her evening very nice the temperature was still nice enough to get away with walking along. The great redwoods in the distance shook their green foliage. Her scarf whipped up and about against her and lightly blowing billowing. Her eyes looking from person to person. She would need blood soon, already the darker part of herself was aching in her mind and belly.

Will walked along the street Max beside him who was engrossed in his pokemon go. Will had needed to go out for a breath of fresh air, be among the public. The wind had tousled his dark locks in a beautiful manner the cowlicks and curls framing him well. Occasionally he would have to reach out and move Max out of the way of a pole. They stopped when a poke stop was near allowing for Max to refill his items for free. It was at a stop that a familiar heartbeat stood out above all the rest. The cadence was a drumbeat that once learned one could dance too. His eyes closed as the familiar scent filled him in mind and heart, lavender. The pain and peace of... Jane. His eyes opened and a large gust of wind blew his coat open and his letter away! His eyes widened as he darted out after it grasping and clutching ever missing its swirling, whirling dodge. Hand grasping desperation edging him on.

Evelyn was a name she had chosen, having seen it on a gravestone some time ago. It was a pretty name but, there had been a time where the name Jane had caught the shell of her ear, saying hear me, and know me. A scent drew her in, a scent of cloves the sweet-spice filling the air like a balm drawing her into the past a beat of a drum echoing in her ears, not a drum, a heartbeat. Walking almost in a daze she smiled as a wind gust spun her about as her foot came down her eyes followed a motion catching her something very off white and aged with time. The paper crinkled in her hand as she held it in hand taking the words upon in.

Dear Mister “Darcy”

I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry. You must understand this, that my love cannot be so easily as given, I am not like the heroines of my books, nor you the heroes. Indeed how far you have allowed me to be blinded to yourself and your true nature has now caused me to leave you. I wish never for my eyes to be set upon you, my heart is ever closed from your love if that is what you call it. Know that I have taken to leaving by the time you read this my ship will have already sailed for the Americas. I bid you good health.

Carpe Noctem

Jane Austen

Her lip tightened as her jaw trembled, those words that haunted her every night, the ones she had written in a moment of desperation. But how? Was the Demon here? Had he brought these to torment her? To bring her further pain? Was it not enough that she had left Will? It had all been to protect him. She had no choice! Looking up her dark eyes met a familiar pair.

Will had run as fast as his feet could carry without revealing his true nature. He had been about to catch it when a final gust had taken the letter to a young woman. Slowing down his eyes trailed up over her, he knew her canvas well, no matter the time. The peach blossom of her lips that had always been curved in a smile as he had known her. The apple of her cheeks were flush. Tracing to those eyes that had always held such a warmth, a kindness, the last thing he saw when he drifted off was her face full of laughter such a laugh! One that made you feel safe, giddy, and loved. So here stood his beloved lost Jane. Not his, in possession long ago they had tethered their souls to each other, all they had needed was say the words without the words there was nothing to keep them together. How he had wept. The loss of her had brought about the man who stood before her now.

So he stood, her Will, with his dark cowlicks asway in the breeze, that face that had always held a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth how she longed to kiss that mouth. To bring his head into her hands and be with him. The shell of his ears the curve of his brow ever arched in a handsome manner. How his words had captured her he would murmur poetry into every crook and cranny with his mouth against her skin. It had been poems all for her and her alone. His mind had been the whetstone of her sword keeping her sharp. He had been the soul she had needed in her life and even in their darkest moments he had never forsaken her. Never questioned her, not when it mattered, trusting and sweet, funny and kind. She had betrayed him the proof betwixt her fingers that the wind threatened to blow away. She almost wanted to let it go, and with it the past perhaps they could forge a new future? No the demon had been very specific, to leave Will alone. Her eyes welled with tears even more. How she longed to be wrapped in those arms. Had he still not spoken? Had his anger risen so high he could not muster a word? He had never been good at anger, it was not a mask he wore. He wrote it wonderfully well and understood it, but anger was not a trait he kept for himself. Or sorrow? That was the one he wore too well, tragedy his ever constant mark of his trade. What could she say?

Her eyes had studied him, behind them a mind that had known his own, they had been so very deep in love once, he still felt for her now as he did then. How her novels had delighted him, her ferocity in battle at his back and side, they had slew many a creature of the night bringing peace to those who had been ravaged by their kind. Will’s mouth for once could not speak. How could he speak to her? She had asked he keep his distance and he had, by God he had, to be truthful he had no idea that she would be here. Will had done all he could be respectful of her words contained in the letter she still held in her hand. What would happen now? Would the sun find it’s way through? Destroying them both? Just him? Her? That would be how one of his tragedies would end. He was done with tragedy. Comedy, truth, that was what he craved, love above all he coveted most of all. Too long had this life denied him. If she asked him to leave he would, with only an apology for breaching the very request penned down. Those tears? Were they rage? Fear? Or did she long form him as achingly as he for her? This pining it was all too familiar. He wanted to speak, but his words still failed him what did one say after a hundred years? Well over in fact. The times had changed, how much had they?

“I believe this is yours.” She rasped out her voice twisting in pain. She forced herself to fold it her hands shaking. She tried to hold it out in a matter-of-fact manner. “Isn’t it?” She felt her lip tremble again as the question left her mouth giving her a sharpness to her heart. How she longed to burrow into his arms to beg him for forgiveness tell him everything, most of all tell him she loved him! She had never stopped loving him, but he had written it all so long ago, how these things turned out. In the end it was always another god damned tragedy.

Will felt his lips purse with the threat of tears sadness gripping them. His hand moved up careful precise. Taking hold of the paper, waiting for her to let go. He had held onto it so long he would wait forever if it meant her holding it here with him. “Yes.” His voice hoarse as a whisper usually it was so smooth and silky and deep, rippling with his accent. Yet here his voice had cracked like his heart had then.

She couldn’t let go, her eyes looked around, the demon could be anywhere, and yet? Yet there was no fire coming to claim Will. Their meeting had been and remained hidden. Jane took a step closer to him standing less than an arms length in her direction. Her movement had caused their hands to brush. How he had held her hand at every opportunity. He would brush his lips to it and offer up words only for her ears to hear. His eyes speaking the words not yet created to further add upon his devotion to her. Devotion she had been careless with in the past, she would no longer be careless with it. “And yet I should never have given it. I am not speaking to renew the sentiments contained within the letter, callous and cruel as they are. But to address the lies contained within. You are the only man I could ever have wished to and still wish to marry. My love and heart are not so easily given because to you they have always been true. Your true nature has always been good, kind and I have always loved you, it has made you a target for those that would wish you dead, Thus my love endangered you it would seem. I do so want to keep my eyes drinking in the sight of you. My heart could never be closed from yours it is yours and if yours is still mine then I consent to be yours until the end of our time. I hope this does in short explain and perhaps it may even mitigate my actions that have so thoroughly estranged us.” During this she had come closer and closer to him till she was now before him imploring him with more than her words but her eyes. Her words echoing the very letter he had written her the one she had transposed to her story about a headstrong prideful couple who had to over come their prejudice to find love. This was a different story now, but would they still find their love?

Will could still say nothing but his hand had let go of the letter, it was of little importance to him now, there was only one thing he wished to hold. His arms cautiously silently asking if it was alright to hold her. She was the only person who could silence him like this. That rendered him inert forever caught up in the reverie that was her.

As he held his arms out to her she walked into them soft sobs as she let herself be vulnerable with him she could be. He was vulnerable too together they could watch each other’s backs, just as they had done so long ago.

Will held her tightly his love was here and she was in his arms again. Will leaned down and kissed her softly. “You need not trouble yourself over the pain of it all my love, it is forgotten.” Immortality had a way of shaping one’s perspectives. Love didn’t make one desire to lash out to feel the pain, that was anger. He had never been good at anger. Love wanted only the same love in return. He held her tears streaming down his face. “My Dearest one.”

Jane stood there with him crumpling the letter, it was only now a piece of paper the writing on it no longer held meaning for either of them. Now only life and love would hold meaning she leaned up looking at him through teary lashes.

Will looked down with tears in his eyes. “Jane?”

“Will?” She answered back.

“I love you most ardently,” Will whispered. “Love is a weapon a dangerous one as you have so written as have I. Forget the mortal wound for it has healed with your love brought back. I am deeply under thy spell, bewitched and brought tightly around your finger. I am yours still even now the hour the moment that made me know that my soul and yours could never be truly separated.”

It was her turn for silence the words he spoke stilling her and instilling in her a beacon of hope as she grasped his head in her hands and planted a kiss firmly on his mouth. She whispered before she went back in for a kiss. “You are the love of my life.”

“Then allow me to once again to ask,” He knelt down taking her hand in his. “Once more with both a deep anguish and ever rising hope, that I may be your husband and love you with all that I am.”

“Yes,” She nodded. “Yes my Darcy-Darling-Will.” She stuttered out. “Yes the answer is yes. My answer is yes.”

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