#have said before but i do think he changed his name to percival because nobody could pronounce it. i think guin did the same. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deathbecomesnerds · 4 years ago

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“His Queen” -- King Arthur 18+ Smut

Sooo...I did a thing. I apologize in advance, HOWEVER--it took me 16 days to write this, so here we are! @hotdamnhunnam challenged me for her Kinkfest celebration and I have delivered...to the best of my ability with the following kinks:

- Jealousy/Possessive - Breathplay (I went back to it, sorry) - Breeding Kink (My favorite *smirk*)

I’m sorry if it’s too short, not sexy enough, or not good enough. But I am satisfied with this, and that’s all that matters.

Sir Tristan and William stood at the King’s throne, glancing at each other while he stroked his beard and clenched his jaw.

“And you’re sure?” Arthur finally asked.

William nodded “Yes, my King. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Arthur nodded, standing up from his throne before stomping out of the room, leaving his two friends behind while he stormed his way to her chambers. He could feel his anger boiling to the surface, and he didn’t even knock on her door, but barged in as she pulled out the lacing of her dress.

She rolled her eyes, before letting her hands fall to her side as she looked at Arthur “Your Majesty.” she didn’t even bother bowing.

He stood just a foot away from her, his nostrils flared as he looked her over while every emotion he ever felt hit him all at once: happiness, sadness, anger, jealousy, horiness. She brought it all out of him and for his eyes to lay upon her made him feel he was in the presence of a goddess or something more.

“Lady Charlotte,” he greeted back in a hiss.

She sighed “Well, since you’re here…” she turned her back to him, gently looking over her shoulder at him “You mind?” she asked.

Arthur pulled at the lacing roughly, looking over the features of her face before finally releasing her from the tight grasp of her dress; Arthur immediately grabbed her neck from behind and pulled her against his body.

“You think I like being humiliated? Am I a joke to you?” he hissed in her ear.

Charlotte gasped for air, gently clawing at his hand “No, Your Majesty.” she choked out.

Arthur gripped tighter “Then why the fuck were you with him in the gardens earlier today? You didn’t think I would hear about it?” he yelled at her, now cutting off her air flow before suddenly releasing her and pushing her away from him and onto the bed.

“Or did you think that I would somehow be enlightened by the idea of another man touching you the way that I do?” Arthur asked her, though Charlotte did not respond as she gasped for air.

Charlotte shook her head after a prolonged silence, when she finally sat up while Arthur leaned to face her eye level “You are not Sir Percival’s. You are mine. And I will not share you with any other man, especially my friends,” he hissed at her before grabbing her face to look at him “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Charlotte said firmly.

Arthur released his grip and turned away from her for a moment, looking around her modest bed chambers before glaring back at her “Stand up.”

Charlotte did not hesitate as she did, looking away from him as to not meet his gaze while he stood in front of her, watching as her wavy hair framed her face and obscured his view as he pushed the strands away--her chest heaving slightly.

He turned her face to look at him, the both of them locking eyes before he leaned in to kiss her while he began to push the dress off of her shoulders and let the dress begin to fall from her body.

Charlotte could feel a chill down her spine as he did, feeling his hands push her dress down past her hips and letting it fall to the floor before he pulled away from the kiss, witnessing her naked body apart from the flimsy piece of fabric covering the one spot Arthur wanted to see most.

“Soon, you will be my Queen, and England’s…” he muttered to her.

She scoffed “I will be your Queen no sooner than pigs can fly,” she remarked “Perhaps you would have better luck marrying your Mage?” she smirked at him.

Arthur glared at her, she was feisty tonight--perhaps it was the thrill of knowing she got under his skin? Or knowing the power she wields? He couldn’t be sure, all he knew was that he wanted to wipe that look off of her face and listen to her moan his name, remind her that she was his everything.

He continued glaring, gently pushing her down onto the bed again as he took his shirt off, exposing his broad shoulders and chiseled muscles that made all the ladies of the kingdom swoon when he heard Charlotte huff and sigh before looking up at Arthur.

“I can’t do this,” she said unamused “You haven’t even touched me yet, and I feel completely unfulfilled.” she stood up and looked at him, her tone and attitude completely changed as well as her demeanour.

Arthur had never been more confused, tilting his head at her “What?”

Charlotte sighed “Of course I knew word would get back to you! That’s why I lured Sir Percival to the Gardens; because I know that somebody is always watching.” she told him “You haven’t touched me in weeks, Arthur--weeks. Off doing ‘Kingly’ things, I suppose, with all the other women?”

Arthur shook his head softly “There are no other women.” he said, cupping her face.

“Just like there are no other men.” Charlotte insisted.

Arthur sighed “Once you become Queen…”

“I don’t know if I want to,” Charlotte interrupted him, “Me? A Queen? Maybe you should actually marry the Mage--could be a better political marriage.”

Arthur shook his head “I don’t want to marry the Mage...in fact, I don’t think she would want anything to do with me. She’d probably turn me into a snake or something undesirable if I were to even ask her.”

Charlotte giggled “You’d be a very cute snake.”

He kissed her “Shut up, and lie down on the bed.”

“Make me,” she whispered against his lips.

Arthur didn’t hesitate as he pushed Charlotte into the bed, climbing top of her so she wouldn’t get away, he chuckled as he looked down at her: such beauty, how the Gods could have brought him such a specimen, he would never know; but at this moment, all he knew was that his desire to be with her was too strong to resist.

He grabbed her throat again, gently this time “However…” he got her attention, losing any lovey feelings that were vibrating in the room “If you ever do that again, I will punish you.” he spoke low.

“You are mine, Charlotte. Nobody else's.” he hissed.

Charlotte smirked “Why don’t you punish me now?” she toyed with him “A good King would make an example of all subjects the first time they make a mistake.”

Arthur arched an eyebrow “I will,” he remarked “In fact, your punishment will be to carry my heir. And then you will have to be my Queen.” he kissed her collar bone “Don’t want a bastard on your hands now, do you?” he asked.

She scuffed, looking up at him “Give me your heir. I dare you.”

He squeezed her throat with one hand while his other undid his pants and pulled them down below his knees, kicking off his shoes before climbing on top of Charlotte and pushing his pants off entirely, exposing his massive hard cock.

Charlotte looked down to see it, feeling her thighs quiver and her core get wetter by just the sight of the King’s appendage.

Arthur noticed her looking, smirking at her while his hand around her throat got tighter, now cutting off circulation again as he forced her to look up at him “Only the Queen gets to stare.” he muttered to her, his free hand ripping her panties off of her body, now exposing her entirely naked body to him.

She shivered as goosebumps formed all over her skin, and another chill fell down her spine before she gripped Arthur’s hand that was around her throat. Charlotte struggled for a moment as she felt Arthur’s cock begin to brush against her clit, she choked on a gasp while her hips moved against his cock, wanting to be filled with him immediately.

“Your Majesty,” she struggled out.

Arthur looked at her “What?”

Charlotte looked desperately into his eyes “Your Majesty, please…” she struggled again.

“Please what?”

She gasped for air, and Arthur loosened his grasp slightly, waiting for her to beg for his cock like she would never get it again after tonight.

“Please fuck me!” Charlotte cried out.

He smirked, and she didn’t have to ask again as he shoved his massive cock into her small cunt, pushing all the way in and almost came just listening to Charlotte scream at the abrupt intrusion. Arthur stood still for a moment, releasing his grasp of Charlotte’s neck if just to give her a moment to adjust as she grabbed onto his hips.

Charlotte hummed after adjusting, chuckling to herself with her hands still firmly gripping his hips, she looked up at him and bit her lip “Punish me, your majesty! ” she begged.

Arthur’s thrusts forced her entire body forward, looking down at her body as he punished it for the good of the country and himself “You fucking whore,” he muttered to her “How dare you turn your back on your King!” Arthur yelled, his thrusts hitting Charlotte as hard as his words.

She moaned, her hand snaking down in between her legs to begin rubbing her clit, giving her an extra boost of pleasure as Charlotte closed her eyes.

He grabbed her throat again, getting her attention as she snapped her eyes open and looked up at him with lust in her eyes.

“Look at me while I’m breeding you!” Arthur yelled.

Charlotte nodded, gasping from the pleasure while the friction in her legs got faster and rougher from both her hand and Arthur’s cock, she arched her back slightly to get a better angle on Arthur’s cock, though it was short lived before he pushed her back down onto the bed furiously.

“You think you deserve to get off on my cock?” Arthur hissed at her before grabbing the hand on her clit and pushed it away “Not after what you did! Lay there and take my cock, you whore!” He remarked.

Arthur pulled out of Charlotte, flipping her over and pulling her hips back to where she was on her knees. He pushed his cock back into her with such vigor while his eyes were hungry with lust, lust for the power and control he had over Charlotte.

She attempted to silence a moan, tilting her head back and looking up at Arthur who grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her head further back to see him, Arthur grunted with every thrust, watching Charlotte as she gripped tightly to the bed sheets as he fucked her furiously.

“I can’t wait to see it,” he growled, closing his eyes to imagine it all “Your belly swelling with my heir, and as soon as you have him, I’ll make you have another. And another. And another.” He hissed.

Arthur’s thrusts got rougher with every word, he opened his eyes and looked down at Charlotte as she whimpered, gripping behind her at his hips but missing them with every thrust.

“Your Majesty, please. Make me your Queen.” Charlotte cried out.

He felt his cock twitch at her words, begging him to fill her up and he would oblige as he held tightly to her hips and vigorously thrusted into her when he felt the mental pop in his head, his thrusts becoming uncoordinated as he filled Charlotte up with his warm cum.

She could feel it, the warmth from his cock painting her walls and just on that feeling alone, she was close to climax herself.

“Arthur…” she whimpered out, looking out the window of her room while he gave one last thrust to make sure that she received all of his seed before he slowly pulled out.

He looked down, examining his handiwork as his cum dripped out of her and down her leg; the excitement it brought him made his cock ache for her again but he softly laid next to her, both gasping for air as Charlotte landed on her back.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, stroking her arm.

Charlotte nodded “Yes. I just wished you would have let me—“

“I will. We have all night.” He assured her “I’m gonna make you cum so hard, you won’t see straight for a week.” He said before leaning in to kiss her.

She giggled. Charlotte looked into his blue eyes and stroked his collar bone “So...that plan of yours…”

Arthur chuckled back at her “The second you find out, we will wed.” He told her.

“So, we just get married right then and there? You crown me Queen and then we live happily ever after?” she asked him.

Arthur smiled “Absolutely. Queen Charlotte of England. It has a very nice ring to it.”

Charlotte hummed as she looked up at the ceiling “Well, you better work harder than you have for anything else tonight...otherwise, you will be left disappointed.” she remarked.

He grunted at her “Very well,” he said, climbing on top of her again.

#Charlie hunnam #king arthur: legend of the sword #king arthur #I regret everything and nothing at the same time #come at me bro

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msjr0119 · 5 years ago

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Sneak Peek Saturday

So because I’m usually very late doing these things, I thought I’d do a premature ‘Sneak Peek Sunday’ - it’s Sunday now somewhere in the world 😂

Tags- just tagging everyone, then if you wish tomorrow to do a SSS feel free.

@pedudley @kacie-0156 @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @texaskitten30 @ladyangel70 @bascmve01 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @nikkis1983 @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @axwalker @rafasgirl23415 @yukinagato2012 @cordonianroyalty @rainbowsinthestorm @queenjilian @jared2612 @desireepow-1986 @twinkle-320 @bebepac @drakewalkerisreal @choices97 @sanchita012 @princessleac1 @indiacater @furiousherringoperatortoad @custaroonie @ravenpuff02

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One shot

So the other day, @loveellamae actually made me late for work. Not purposely. I just easily get distracted- especially with the YouTube videos she sent me. It’s a video about pandas by Ozzy Man Reviews, if you haven’t watched it yet- you need to! But maybe go to the toilet prior right, Ella? 😂 Anyway I said, the pandas reminded me of Maxwell and the commentator reminded me of some things that Drake would say. So I decided to do a one shot on it.

Ramsford, 16.30 Saturday.

Oh look, it’s a Lord in his own private pool. I’m pretty jealous to be honest, but I have Jack keeping me company. We don’t get to live in this amount of luxury for free- us commoners. Look at him just splashing around, as if he’s some kid. He’s probably expecting for some Sheila’s to come around in the next hour before the infamous Beaumont Bash begins. He’s probably thinking about having pre drinks in there with them. Attempting to flirt with them all, but he’s a disaster waiting to happen. As am I probably. If it was Liam or Leo in that pool, they’d have all the women fighting to share with the Prince’s. It’s a good thing that Maxwell has confidence. Usually he would say “hello ladieeeees” - cringe. Oh wait a sec, he’s stuck on his back. Holy shit he’s drowning. Ah well. Fuck him.

“Drake. Drake. Oi, Buddy! Drake. Turn the bubbles off. I’m going under. Quit screwing around. Save me!” Maxwell was usually the overdramatic type of person, so Drake didn’t rush to rescue him. Instead he poured himself another whiskey, sat down- and decided to record Maxwell. Not feeling the slight bit of guilt, he found it highly amusing. Besides, there was a chance that he could become rich if he was to send the evidence to You’ve Been Framed. Shaking his head after these thoughts, he wouldn’t actually do that. But it was good evidence for any potential future revenge.

Just fucking roll over you moron. This is hilarious. To say he had a private education, there really is no brain functioning in there.

“Oh no, wait I can roll over. I’m rolling. I’m fine. I’m good. Phew. I need a bloody nap after that.”

And that ladies and gentlemen is Lord Maxwell Percival Beaumont- what an absolute dipshit.

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The American Adventure

Book: The Royal Romance (A/U for parts of the series)

Quotes: Some quotes are from the film “The Best of Me”

Pairings: Drake x Riley

Warnings: Swearing, smut 🍋

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“I told you that I couldn’t wait” Drake smiled softly towards her, before gulping. Knowing that she had waited for him to finish his swim. “Well?” Joining her on the edge of the jetty, he cupped her cheek- as his lips touched her, the kiss was slow. Tender. Standing up, he led her off of the jetty- and towards the edge of the lake. Laying down, he hovered over her- unable to remove the smile from his face. She was the most beautiful woman that he had laid eyes on. To him anyway.

“Are you sure about this?” Drake asked hesitantly. Tugging at his hair, she had never been more sure about anything. If she didn’t do this now with him, she may regret it for the rest of her life. Drake knew that they both craved for each other in secret- it was their first time for the two of them. It would be special.

“I’m sure, just kiss me....nobody is around.” Pulling his face, towards hers- they remained staring into each other’s eyes adorably. Knowing exactly what each other were thinking. They would both be heartbroken once this state of euphoria had ended. It is a summer fling. Unless somehow they could work a long distance relationship out. As their tongues intertwined, it was a matter of seconds before Drake took the plunge and slowly entered her. “Oh my god, Drake...” Gently he began thrusting in and out, making sure to not hurt her. Making sure that she was enjoying it as much as he was.

“I love you, Ri.” After only four weeks of knowing each other, he regretted saying those three words prematurely - assuming it was too early. But he knew and he had to inform her some way of how much he cared for her before they returned to Cordonia.

“I love you, too.”

“Ri, helllooo... is somebody in there?” Daniel asked concerned as he knocked his friend out of her trance by waving his hand in front of her face.

“Erm, yeah sorry. Has Carlos sorted the rota out for the week after next? He knows or should know that I need this week off because of.....”

“I know, don’t worry. We’ve sorted it between us all. You’ll have to let me know how the will reading goes tomorrow, babe.” Riley just nodded, it still hadn’t sunk in that she had lost another person in her life so tragically. Daniel ran into the back room, and provided her with a copy of the rota for the next few weeks.

“What’s up with you? You know you can talk to me about anything...”

“I’m going crazy. I think it’s due to the lack of sleep...” Pausing, she knew everything was in the past but she couldn’t help but think about all the what if’s. “You remember ten years ago at camp... you remember Drake, right?”

“Yes, Liam and Maxwell too. And the two snobby bitches who went through hell. How can I forget it? It was one of the best summer camps ever. Why do you ask?”

“As I said, I think I’m going crazy. As I arrived, I’m pretty sure I saw Drake. But it’s just my imagination....”

“Hold that thought, Natalie is ringing...” Helping herself to a drink, she knew that she shouldn’t- but she now knew her limits.

“For fuck sake. She’s running late again... Ri, could you just serve that bachelor party over there for me? I know that you’re not due to work but it would really help me if you could...”

“Sure, why not.” I would rather be here than stuck at home.

- - - -

“Hello gentlemen. I’ll be taking care of you for a short while this evening.”

“Waitress, steaks for the table. Fillet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a bearnaise sauce if that’s not too much to ask.”

“The closest thing we have to filet mignon is the deluxe burger.”

“Dare I ask for the wine list?” What a wanker, Jesus. It’s a dive bar. Just be nice and polite, Riley. Take their order then Natalie will hopefully be here to suffer with them.

“We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey and five deluxe burgers. Thank you.” The other man interrupted. Smiling towards the more polite man, she recognised those eyes. It’s just coincidence, she believed. Blue eyes are just blue eyes. They are all the same. “My names, Leo. This is Tariq. What is yours?”

“Five burgers? There’s only two of you?” Greedy bastards.

“Oh, our three friends are outside- reminiscing about the last time that they was here in the Big Apple. I think it was about ten or eleven years ago.”

“I see... I’ll put your order in. My names Riley by the way...” Leo offered her a warm smile, whilst Tariq grimaced at the surrounding- this place was well below his standard. Turning around, she was relieved when she saw Natalie bound through the back entrance.

“Riley, I’m so sorry. The traffic is a nightmare...”

“Riley?” Facing back towards the table, she believed that she was hallucinating at first. I’m not crazy. They are here. Why?

“Riley, damn. You’re still hot! You haven’t changed one bit.” Maxwell squeezed her so tight that she could barely breath.

“Lady Riley... it’s good to see you...” Liam laughed as he referred her to this. The common mistake he made all of those years ago- the prince charm was naturally installed into his mind, even when attempting to conceal his true identity. Kissing her on the cheek, he moved to the side so Drake was in full view of her.

“Riley...” Drake mouthed, unable to say her name mainly due to the shock about seeing her unexpectedly. Making a step forward, she panicked in that moment- not wanting to be close to him, not needing any excuse to jump back into his arms as she did all those years ago. Placing the pad into Natalie’s hand, she twiddled with the rings on her finger. Now, she was beyond nervous.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. Great to see you all, enjoy your vacation.”

“Anyone care to inform me about what the fuck is happening here?” Leo demanded, as the three of them watched her head towards the door- all wearing the same expression.

#sneak peek #choices trr #theroyalromance #trr fanfic #riley brooks #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #liam rys #leo rys #drake x riley #trr daniel #tw swearing #tw smut

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hwu-adventures-blog · 5 years ago

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Family Life- Part 5: A Decision

A/N: It’s been a year but I’m back for part 5 of Family Life! Sorry it’s taken that long, I have university to deal with, which obviously takes priority and on top of that, book 3 of Desire and Decorum came out and so I’ve been waiting to see what happened to that and make the changes to the fanfic appropriately to fit the narrative of the book. But hey I’m back now and hopefully part 6 won’t take too long but it’s uncertain how long. So please be patient with me! Also sorry it’s a bit shorter, less descriptive and more dialogue driven than the other parts! thanks for reading.

23rd December 1836:

Beatrice Sinclaire was in shock. Stood in the study at Edgewater estate, she could only open and close her mouth as she stared at the man she married 20 years ago in disbelief. Her husband really couldn’t be suggesting something so barbaric, so inhumane, especially not at Christmas!

“It’s just a suggestion Beatrice, nothing more and we don’t need to decide before Christmas, Mr Hyde will have the spot saved for us should we decide to take it” Ernest’s voice was calm as ever “but I really think we should consider it”

Bedlam?” Beatrice asked “Mr Hyde suggested Bedlam? is he insane?” Ernest’s godfather, an old gentleman named Mr Hyde (not to be confused with Edward Hyde from the Robert Louis Stevenson book which isn’t even written yet) had suggested it when he encountered Ernest in London, he had suggested they send their daughter to Bethlehem Royal Hospital, as it had great care and medical care to the highest standards capable of making any person sane again.

“He said it has the best doctors and at this point I do believe we need specialist care for Mary” Ernest said his eyes never wavering from his wife

“And you’re considering the opinion of a man who you haven’t seen in over twenty five years over your wife’s? Ernest- I didn’t think you were capable of that”

Ernest’s look turned sour, and full of dismay at his wife’s suggestion “I am not taking just his suggestion into account, I would never put anyone over you and the children, Beatrice, which is why I am asking you, what do you think? Because at this point after eight years I just really don’t know what to do” he said getting up from the desk seat and putting his hands on Beatrice’s arms and looking at her with his full attention his eyes sporting the same love sick look he has given her for the part 20 years

“Ernest, Bedlam- I’ve heard awful rumours about that place, that it’s not the place the gentry make it out to be” Beatrice spoke her voice shaking as she explained her worries to her husband

“But how can you be so sure?” Ernest asked “they could be just that, just silly rumours”

Beatrice sighed in reply and shuddered as she said the next words.

“Mad Tom”

Ernest looked confused at this choice of wording “Mad... Tom?”

“Thomas Tucker, the butchers son in Groveshire- nice man, a bit rough as a small boy growing up, mother died of childbed fever and his father blamed him for it- so he was a bit of a bully, had a liking towards me as we were growing up, declared he’d be the one to marry me from a young age and kept to that declaration thought our childhood”

“Well it didn’t work out, because you’re married to me so why was he called mad?”

“His father declared him sick in the head and so sent him to Bedlam, when he returned he’d speak of horrible things they did to him and his father gave him the name around the village as Mad Tom, the next year I was packed off to Edgewater so I never got to marry him because I met the love of my life”

“Beatrice perhaps those are just the ramblings of a clearly unwell man-“

“Or perhaps not- Ernest we can’t send Mary off potentially to go through that”

“I know that you’re probably right but what choice do we have? can’t have her like this for the rest of her life”

“Like what?”

“She has barely spoken since she was six”

“Since George died, I know”

“I’m just worried about her future. In a couple of years we’ll be looking to out her and she’ll be needing a husband of Ledford is to succeed” Ernest said this was a factor they’d decided on years ago, after George’s death, it was uncertain who would succeed at being the Master of Ledford park since Eustace’s condition meant he struggled a bit and so, Ernest had decided on his own accord that Ledford Park would go to his eldest daughter, Mary, instead, given the circumstances but that would need she would need a husband to help out and so she’d need to actually have the ability to talk to strangers and potential suitors, well by suitors, Ernest and Beatrice wanted their children to marry for love and not one of convenience if it can be helped.

“So am I, but I am convinced that place will do more harm than good. She can speak, she just- I don’t know- Bedlam is not the place for her and Mr Hyde is wrong”

“I don’t think I’d go that far but the old man is set in his ways I will have a talk with him but I can’t guarantee it- if Bedlam can help we should at least look into it thoroughly”

“Mother? Father?” A heartbroken voice asked from the doorway “I- I was just- Percival’s arrived”

Beatrice looked to the doorway where her eldest daughter, Mary was stood tears threatening to fall down her face

“Mary, how long have you been there?” Ernest asked

“A-a while- father are you really going to send me away?”

“I-“

Before either parent could get a word out, Mary had hurried away from the room sobbing, Ernest started to move intending to go after her, but Beatrice grabbed his hand

“No, Ernest, you go and greet Percival, I’ll go and speak with Mary”

“Alright” Ernest agreed with his wife “I’ll tell Percival you’ll be there to see him in a minute”

Beatrice turned and headed out of the room down to the place where she knew Mary would have gone. To her old bedroom.

She found Mary exactly where she thought, sat on George’s bed sobbing her heart out.

“Mary?” Beatrice asked her daughter opening the door and poking her head in before entering and sitting down next to the sixteen year old

“Oh Mama” she cried “is father really going to send me away to Bedlam? Does he really believe me to be mad”

“Oh Mary, your papa doesn’t think you’re mad, he just thinks you need a bit of help”

“But I can speak, I’m better now”

“I know, but you still lose your voice when any stranger talks to you and your father believes you’ll need to overcome that before you are presented to any man you will marry in the future and in a way I do think he’s right, he just- he’s just trying his best”

“I know mama and I am trying- it’s just difficult and I just don’t think I’m marriage material” Mary said

“I didn’t think that either, until I met your father” Beatrice smiled “and we turned out pretty well if you ask me”

“No mama, that’s not what I meant”

“Oh? What did you mean?”

Mary looked down at her hands

“I don’t- I don’t feel any attraction to any of the opposite sex”

Beatrice smiled at her daughter “and that’s alright, it’s fine feel that way”

“I’m not sure I understand- you’re supporting me?”

“Of course, who wouldn’t support you? your auntie Annabelle felt the same way, about me no less, and your father knew fully well that was the case and never diminished her, and don’t get me started on your uncle Bartholomew and uncle Yusuf-“

“Wait, uncle Bartholomew and uncle Yusuf are married?”’

“I officiated it, but don’t tell anyone”’ Beatrice smiled “so, who is it who’s caught your eye?”

“Ayla” Mary whispered

“Ayla?” Beatrice smiled “well I suppose it was kind of obvious now that I look at it”

Ayla Chambers has been the eldest of the children that Mr Chambers and Mr Konevi raised, followed by Charles and Joanna Konevi a few years later she was formally adopted by Mr Chambers and had become best friends with George and Mary as a toddler so it was inevitable that she would probably fall in love with one of the twins eventually.

“There’s only one problem Mama”

“And what’s that?”

“Alya’s probably going to be engaged to Vincent” Mary said “remember?”

Oh. Beatrice did remember that. It was painfully obvious that Vincent had not loved her though and it was a through a marriage of convenience.

“Also it’s not that I don’t want to talk to other people- I just struggle communicating with them, like Clemmie does. But more to the fact that I feel like the only people who truly get me are Ayla and- well, George- or he used to before-“

“Have you tried telling your father any of this?” Beatrice asked

“Why would I? He’d only disown me”

“disown you? Oh Mary, he’d never dream of doing that”

“How do you know that? He’s awfully stiff in personality, and- I know he’s already set his mind on sending me away- if I tell him it’ll only confirm his suspicion that I’m of ill mind” Mary exclaimed

“Mary, your father is rough around the edges, yes, and he may appear to be the typical English gentleman, but I assure you he loves you very much and only wants what’s best for you, and if you tell him your reasons when you are ready, he will not love you any less” Beatrice smiled “and he has not made up his mind about Bethlehem asylum, he is lightly considering it, and I think if you tell him your reasons then, it might help sway his opinion”

Mary nodded at her mother “will you come with me?”

“Of course but only when you’re ready” Beatrice smiled at her daughter

“I’m ready to do it now, best to get it over and done with right mama? Then we can focus on the Christmas festivities?”

“If that is what you want to do” Beatrice agreed “I promise everything will be alright and nobody will be taking you away ever” she pulled her daughter in for a hug which Mary reciprocated immediately before saying that she was ready to tell her father and the pair wandered back down the long halls to the study where Ernest was just returning to after seeing his stepson for the first time in months.

“Mary? Is everything alright? You had me worried when you ran off like that” he asked immediately upon laying his eyes on his eldest daughter concerned for her wellbeing, just as any father would be to any of their children

“Oh, yes papa I’m quite alright now, thanks in most part to mama and I do have something I would like to tell you” Mary said with as much confidence as she used to have when she was a little child “preferably in private away from the prying ears of my younger siblings”

“Oh” Ernest looked surprised at his daughter before unlocking the study door “well, yes, of course, come in. Beatrice, do you want to hear this?”

“I already know what it’s about Ernest, but I’m here for support-“

“Don’t worry mama, I think I can manage now” Mary smiled at her mother which made Beatrice proud of her daughter’s confidence she had clearly just needed that little push to get her confidence out to talk with her father.

“Very well, I will go and see Percival and the other children and help with the finishing touches of the decorating before we get the Yule log in tonight” Beatrice said before Mary walked in before her father into the study, sitting down at his desk, and Ernest send Beatrice a concerned look about his daughter which Beatrice returned with a reassuring smile just as he closed the door.

The countess of Edgewater was then greeted by her youngest child once she got to the bottom of the stairs.

“Mama! Mama! Percy’s here!” The blonde haired, grey-blued eyes eight year old exclaimed “and he promised we would play sailors with me”

“Did he now?” Beatrice chuckled as the eight year old pulled her into the ballroom excitedly where her two older brothers (Vincent now fifteen and Eustace now thirteen) were putting up the final decorations under the watchful eye of the twenty six year old Percival Richards.

“Percival” Beatrice smiled at her adopted son as she approached him

“Mother” Percival smiled at his mother and wrapped her into a tight hug “how are you?”

“Oh, the usual, how was your journey from France? Are your family well?”

“Very well, thry did want me to stay for the Christmas meal but I had to get on and catch the boat to England” Percival said “and now I am apparently supervising my younger siblings, finishing the decorations”

“Percy I have finished!” Clementine exclaimed running up to the pair of them “will you tell me about captain cook now?”

“After I’ve finished supervising, why don’t you go and help Eustace before I tell you?” Percival smiled warmly at his sister

“No, you promised!” Clementine’s lips wobbled with upset

Beatrice sighed “Clemmie-“

“No, you said that after I had finished my decorations you would tell me all about Captain cook, amongst other sailors and explorers from England and France!” The eight year old told them “and then you also said we were going to play sailors with my dolls before papa tells us the story of the return of Dragideon, and I’m very good with remembering things like that”

“Well then, I suppose I must keep to that promise” Percival said “speaking of Papa? Where is he?”

“Just taking care of some important business” Ernest’s voice said from behind them just as Mary skipped past them to help Eustace out with his decorating, Ernest smiled at Beatrice

“Well that’s our indication that we should follow Mary and leave our parents to talk” Percival said to the youngest child “and before I tell you about Captain cook, perhaps we shall start with a french one like Jean-Baptiste Bénard de la Harpe, the explorer”

And with an excited nod of the head, the little girl pulled Percival to her books and wooden ship, leaving her parents alone.

“That went well” Ernest said

“Was that a sarcastic comment?”

“No, I’m not sending Mary away”

“She convinced you?”

“She told me every reason and mr Hyde is getting a strongly worded letter on Boxing Day, no matter the partnership he had with my father”

“She told you everything?”

“It was obvious she was unattracted to men, nothing slips past her father”

“Nor does it for her mother. It doesn’t bother you?”

“No. She is aware that she will have to marry for convenience and we will just have to keep working on her confidence in front of others and speech but, no nothing could change our affection for our daughter”

Beatrice’s hand suddenly felt Ernest’s slide into hers and squeeze it tightly

“We’ll do it as a family, instead of being apart, and that’s what matters, isn’t that what Christmas is about? Family?”

Beatrice smiled at Ernest, cheekily knowing that they were both in a position to add a bit of lightheartedness to the conversation.

“My, my, Mr Sinclaire, holding my hand in front of the children? My grandmother will be turning in her grave at the indecency of it!”

Ernest laughed before smiling back at his wife, a loving look in his eyes, one he had always maintained for Beatrice. And Beatrice knew, in that moment, that everything was going to turn out just fine. Even if they were a little bit broken or different, the Sinclaire family were going to be alright.

A/N 2: sorry if there were any mistakes! If there were let me know!

Tagged accounts: @cocomaxley, @symonde , @indescribablechoices , @flyawayboo, @princess-geek and @regencylady1810 (if you want to be added to the tag list then don’t hesitate to ask 😊)

#choices: desire and decorum #mc #pixelberry #desire and decorum #mc x ernest #ernest x mc #ernest sinclaire #desire and decorum future!fic

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poemsfromearthsea · 5 years ago

Text

Not Entirely Unfamiliar

The wind had gathered itself into great gusts, swooping blue-black around shaking rafters, and the distant complaint of thunder hinted that rain would soon start to plummet over the mountains. The house stood in silhouette against a fading sky, and it wouldn’t be long before the only light would be the warm glow from the windows; even that might soon be obscured by the storm. Six windows on the upper floor were empty, invisible in the night. The seventh had flickered to life half an hour ago and stayed that way, lighting its solitary occupant in whatever she was doing apart from her fellow travelers.

Lightning flickered, and the six downstairs pointed and looked and murmured among themselves. The house was not maintained by any staff or sponsor, but its aged facilities were kept clean and intact by the guests who wandered through like lost souls. Few planned to arrive, but any who did pass through cleaned and repaired and left the place looking as it did—or better than it did—when they found it.

These six had blown in from all directions that night, stumbling through the doorway one after another, fleeing the clouds congregating on the horizon. They all loved a storm—all but one—but they had long miles to travel, and shelter was welcome as far as they were concerned. From the fireside in the big room downstairs, though, the bolts sending their broken fingers down over the mountains made a pretty picture.

“More cider?” asked the old woman in black, whose snowy hair tumbled like clouds or seafoam down her back. The child sitting at her feet shook their head, setting their empty cup carelessly to the side. They were not hers. They were not anyone’s. This made everybody slightly concerned.

A moment later they looked up with eyes that flickered, green-gold, green-gold, in the firelight. “Tell me a story,” they said, staring across the room at the dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark-skinned man in a top hat and tails. He had arrived in a gust of wind—no one knew how—possibly he had flown out of the sky.

“Pardon?” he asked. He had been looking out the window, but he felt the child’s gaze was directed at him and turned around.

“A story,” they demanded. “I know you have one.”

The man chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “I have many,” he told the child, who nodded encouragingly, shadows playing over their face like children in mourning running across white sand.

The man raised his eyes to the room at large. They were black, or possibly deep blue. “Who would like to hear a story?” he asked in a clarion voice.

The journeyers glanced at one another, at the man, at the child who had started the whole thing. Some nodded in mute assent. The grey-haired boy in the corner shrugged.

“If you’re telling a story,” said the broad-shouldered man, holding his wife’s hand in his own weathered one, “why not call the other down?” No one doubted who he meant by the other. Firstly, because there was only one other; secondly, because you could not help but think of the person who had not so much as stopped in the doorway before heading upstairs as “the other.” They had all heard the retreating footsteps on the stairs outside, and the slam of the wooden door.

The man in the top hat shook his head. “No,” he said simply, idly twisting his goatee round a spindly finger. “I think she wants to be left alone.”

“Could be a he,” muttered the grey boy, “or a they.” But no one paid him any mind.

“So—a story?” asked the fellow jovially. And, greeted with no disagreement, he began to tell.

₼

“There was a child,” he began, “and there was a tree. The tree was white as moonlight and tall enough to almost touch the source, and its leaves whispered things to those who listened. The boy listened.

“He learned the ways of the forest, and of the meadow; he learned how to tie a snare and make a trail and which flowers he could eat. But he was not satisfied, so he listened harder.

“The tree, whose bark had begun to split here and there, told him the secrets of the mind. How to solve any problem. How to write a poem of perfect form. It whispered the great philosophical questions in his ear so that he might ask instead of answering some things in the ancient halls of knowledge. It taught him why things fall, and why they move, and where they go. But he was not satisfied, so he listened harder.

“The tree’s bark had split further, inky black beneath. And it told him the secrets of the heart: how to stave off loneliness, homesickness, heartache; how to befriend the ones he wished, and drive off the others; what made envy, and love, and lust for riches or power or flesh stir the emotions; and who he should trust; and who he should not. But he was still not satisfied, so he listened harder.

“The leaves of the tree had turned a dingy black. It told him the secrets of life and death—how to live and why to live and what came after life, knowledge whispered in a voice dry and cracking. Still, he was not satisfied. He listened harder.

“But the bark had all fallen in skeletal curls from the dry dark trunk of the tree, and the leaves were the color of night and dropped pieces like ash into the wind, and it had no voice left with which to speak. All its knowledge had gone to the boy.

“And, unsatisfied, the boy walked away without a glance behind, and entered the world.

“In the world, the boy suffered. He knew how to make his way in comfort, and he knew how to solve anything he set his brain to solve, and he could read the ways of other humans like a book, and he knew how he ought to live and for what he was waiting.

“Poor boy, he knew too much—for all he knew made it so that he could never settle into one thing. It was too easy, and too mundane and monotonous, and he flitted like a bat from job to job and home to home and person to person. The only knowledge which did not manifest just as the tree had said was that of life and death. Instead of making life as predictable and regular as any job, this knowledge drove him wild because it was impossible to act upon. He knew how and why he ought to live, but the world and its wiles would not allow it in practice.

“Some things cannot be understood, even when they are known, and some things cannot be cheated, like death.

“The boy, now a man, stumbled from the city, and as he cried, his tears turned to bark, and his hair to branches, and his body to a cold dark trunk—and a thousand thousand leaves whispered the secrets that could not save him to the wind.”

₼

There was rapt silence. The ebony-skinned woman who sat with her hand in her husband’s looked enthralled, and he looked shocked. The grey-haired boy had raised a skeptical eyebrow. The woman with hair like clouds nodded quietly, and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. The child grinned a broad grin, wild, hungry, untamed.

“Tell me more,” they breathed.

“There is no more.”

“There must be more!”

“Why must there be more?”

The shadows drew curtains over the child’s eyes, and when they slid away, the eyes had calmed. Thunder sang its rumbling song, coming closer still.

“I can tell a story,” said the wife. The child turned golden eyes on her, and her husband looked up in surprise. The other travelers glanced at her in expectation. “It does not, perhaps, have the good structure”—warned she—“of Mr.…?” “Sylvansen,” said the man with the goatee. Her husband drew in his breath, but a howl of wind obscured the sound.

“Mr. Sylvansen’s,” she continued, “but it is an old story that my family has kept for years. We call it Rosalie.”

₼

“They say that Rosalie was a happy child from the moment she saw the sun. Pink and healthy like a summer apple she rolled the hills, singing with birds and leaping streams, covered in dirt but crowned always with a wreath of pink peonies.

“One day, she met my great-great-great grandmother. She—my great-great, that is, not the girl—was lively, quick to speak and quicker to sprint, hair cropped short to avoid burrs, feet bare and calloused by forest ground.

“Rosalie said to her—to Clara, that was her name—did she want to go look for ladybugs? And Clara agreed. They roamed meadows of wildflowers together, and when night fell, Rosalie took her by the hand and dragged her into the forest, where they ran between the trees and snatched at fireflies, giggles filling the dark.

“Ah—I forgot—Rosalie’s laugh was infectious, sweet, and light. But some say they heard malice underneath.

“The girls grew up together, fell in and out of love, stayed friends. Rosalie was changing—everyone said so, except Clara, who didn’t notice. Rosalie had found one lightning bug too many, they joked in town, and it had told her something nobody wanted to know.

“This may have been right, I don’t know. Probably it wasn’t. Probably, Rosalie saw for herself the dark, and figured it out herself. That’s what I think, anyway.

“My point is, Rosalie’s pink had turned dusky, and she looked out of tired eyes and seemed hateful. Upon a kiss one day—well, some said it was a kiss and others say, only a look—she devoured something out of Clara. After that Clara was quiet, and she shook, and Rosalie left laughing into the hills.”

₼

“Was that the end?” blinked Mr. Sylvansen.

“Well—Clara married another woman, a surprise because she made a strange, quiet wife, and no one thought anyone would have her. But she got pregnant through a spell—the couple wanted children—and raised a family, and they lived, if not happily, then at least untroubled ever after.”

Sylvansen shrugged approval of this end, and the woman’s husband held her hand tighter. They grey boy had leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The child looked confused.

The white-haired woman, who had given her name as Percival when she had stumbled in out of the wind, bearing a too-heavy pack, was nodding more firmly now, and a frown marred her soft features.

The grey-haired boy stood, a smile twitching nervously on his face. “T-tired of stories yet?” he stammered.

Oh, no, they had only just begun. Heads shook round the fire, illuminated for a moment by a brighter light as lightning flashed closer to the house. Thunder followed only five seconds after. The storm was closing in.

“Right,” said the boy.

₼

“My name was Adelaide, but I don’t have a name anymore.

“When I was a child, I loved that name like anything. Still do really, but not in the same way. Adelaide. It’s musical, I say. And when I was a child, I’d accept no nickname, no short name, no other name. It was Adelaide or nothing.

“The name kept me bright and happy. When I was discouraged, I’d call myself Adelaide—Cheer up, you’re the great Adelaide, I’d say. If I was bored, I’d think, surely Adelaide is the name of a genius! When I was shy—oh, how can they resist a boy called Adelaide?

“You know, I poured myself into that name and I made myself out of that name. I had a hundred fantasies, too. Adelaide was a pirate or a journeyer or a blacksmith or a king, beloved by all his people. Damn, yeah, I did love it and I could do anything, anything, with a name like Adelaide.

“But—hell, I dunno, maybe I was a bit too self-assured, or a tad too charismatic, or maybe Fate just had it in for me—I met the wrong woman.

“Not like that. She was at least ten years older than me…or she looked that way, anyhow, I’m not sure in retrospect…gold hair, going white, blue-green eyes. She called me Adelaide and I called her Danica, though I’m certain that wasn’t her name.

“But when she called me Adelaide…I dunno, it was like she was hungry or something, and she ended every sentence with it. ‘How are you today, Adelaide?’ ‘That’s good to hear, Adelaide.’ ‘Do you want some cocoa, Adelaide?’ ‘See you tomorrow, Adelaide.’

“And—call it witchcraft, say names have power—every time she used the name I liked it a little less. Like she was bleeding it dry. And one day I asked her to call me Adi.

“On that day, she cackled—there’s not another word for her laugh, it was a cackle—and told me she had taken my name. I was scared, I scoffed, I ran in half-disbelief, but she was honest.

“No one knew my name anymore. No one would call me Adelaide. And the name, it didn’t feel like a part of me any longer anyway.

“You know, my hair used to be a really beautiful auburn. And my eyes were bright blue. People called them ‘piercing.’ I saw them fade to grey. A lot of things are grey now. Life isn’t very interesting when you don’t have a name, especially when your name used to be something like Adelaide.”

₼

He stopped unceremoniously, cast his eyes down, and for a moment the moon, piercing through the clouds, made his hair stand out in a bright silver mist around his head. Percival’s eyes were wide and she leaned forward in her seat. The child gnawed their lower lip anxiously. The couple looked at one another in concern and Mr. Sylvansen had raised both eyebrows.

Rain began to hit the roof in intermittent drops. They were on the edge of the storm, and it was fully dark outside. Twilight’s aching fingers had been dragged down below the horizon, and cloudy, starless night had swept over to take their place.

“Speaking of names,” said the broad-shouldered man, “I think I have a story to tell.”

By now, the room was captivated, and they turned to him without hesitation.

₼

“My mother hated the man who she called my ‘scoundrel of a father.’ And that was on a good day. She was a good woman, my mother, but overworked, and her patience had been tried to within an inch of its life. Indeed, it was amazing that she didn’t curse him more often than she did. As it was, she managed to abuse his name at least three times a week, though sometimes quietly and out of my hearing.

“For many years, I didn’t question this. I had never known this man who gave me life, and I didn’t miss him and didn’t have any particular desire to know him. If my mother said my father was a bastard, it didn’t mean much to me.

“But almost any teenage boy starts questioning his identity as soon as he’s old enough to start wondering about life and where it comes from. So, when I was fifteen years old, I asked my mother about this lost father of mine.

“And this is what she told me: That my father was a man who blew into her life with an air of vague dissatisfaction when she was in her mid-twenties. That he loved her (or said he did), and made love to her, and then he left her.

“That my father knew many things—many things—and that made him bored and never satisfied with anything. That he sometimes railed at night that life was not what it said life was—whatever it was.

“That, when my father vanished, she called out into the night, and then, more sensibly, into the local office of law. He had left behind only a note, which stated what he wished me to be named, when I was born. She didn’t even know she was pregnant yet. She did soon, and she ignored the name he wanted me to have.

“The law followed my father’s trail fairly accurately. Apparently my mother’s story was not entirely unfamiliar to them. Several women before had come to them, complaining about a no-good lowlife who had left them with child and nothing else. There were rumors, too, of other women who had not come forward about the same thing.

“And they had all described the same man. Anyway, this time they got on the case fairly early—other women had waited longer than my mother for his return, but she was an impatient woman—they got on the case, I say, early; but when they followed him out of the city where we lived, they saw not hide nor hair of him.

“They did note one thing, though. My mother always mentioned it as a curiosity, but…well, judge for yourself whether it may be more than that.

“Directly outside the city limits, they found a white tree--fully grown, but unfamiliar--and the name my father would have given me was Alistair Sylvansen.”

₼

Mr. Sylvansen’s eyes grew wide, and his grin grew wider still. “Brother,” he murmured.

“Half-brother, I think,” said the other man, rising and disentangling himself from his wife.

“We do share some resemblance, perhaps?” asked Sylvansen, studying the other closely.

“The hair, I think.” He ran fingers through thick black hair. “Certainly not stature.”

They embraced. “What should I call you?” asked Mr. Sylvansen, when they broke apart. “Alistair is not your given name, you said?”

“I am Trevor,” said Trevor.

“And I am Harrien.”

They smiled at each other. The child clapped, and the nameless boy joined in. Trevor’s wife was beaming from the sofa where they had sat, and tears were in her eyes.

“Our father…was a tree,” said Trevor.

“Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“I was a curious child,” laughed Harrien. “And I dedicated several years to finding out the truth. They carried me all the way to the shell of the tree that told him his secrets so long ago.”

Trevor shook his head in disbelief. “To think I thought my life mundane,” he muttered. And he and Harrien retired to a corner of the room to talk over their newfound kinship.

Percival turned from them, her smile growing sad, and then vanishing in a frown. She glanced gravely at the remaining travelers. “I think it is my turn to tell a story, no?” There were nods of assent as faces sobered. This game had more hanging on it than they had realized before, and all were curious to see which way it might swing next.

“Very well. I will tell you my story—the story of my childhood—and I think, perhaps, it will make several things very clear. I will speak quickly. We may have very little time.” Footsteps shuffled overhead, the rain outside redoubled in volume, and lighting and thunder split the air in tandem feet from the window.

Percival began to speak.

₼

“When Percy was twelve years old, she sold her soul for a friend and an enchilada. Poor girl, no one had ever taught her how to barter well. Oh, she’d been trading for years--a lock of red hair for a leather-bound notebook, her sorrow for a blue dress, her childish innocence for an inkwell and a quill pen--but recklessly, recklessly, without any guidance or sense of negotiations. Really, it was lucky that she hadn’t traded away her soul (or her heart, or her mind) earlier.

“She’d grown up ragtag in the streets of Hadells, red curls flying and turning blacker and whiter with every bargain she made under the papel picado and the hellfire stars. This town obeyed no rules and followed no master. It was a dreamworld, some back alley of reality where all the strayaways and break-offs and damned souls went to barter and cavort. Persephone’s mother had left the girl in a cardboard box behind an Applebee’s, and a kindly frog-spirit had picked her up and carried her off.

“But even they hadn’t cared for her for long; the hapless child seemed doomed to a life without guidance or parenthood. Left to her own devices, she named herself Persephone, called herself Percy, and learned to find coins in forgotten corners and trade thoughts for food and dreams for shelter.

“She was happy, really, with her haphazard existence. She knew the best places to watch the conjurings, summonings, and necromancy dances. She knew where the salamanders sang with fire in their eyes while listless wraiths waltzed, almost imperceptible, in the air. Percy had lost count of the number of Impromptu Shakespeare shows she’d seen shouted from the rooftops by Saul Sebastien and His Aerial Acrobats. She ate falafel with precious gems baked into the center and slept in hammock hotels overlooking all-night song circles.

“But she had no guidance. No one told her this is safe, this isn’t, go here, but stay away from there. No one watched her barter with a questioning eye. Nobody looked at her askance when she came home with fire in her eyes and blood on her shoes and a bright new dress.

“She didn’t know what to do or how to act. She met with those she chose, and bought what she wished—all of which is fine until it drives a person over the edge, until they place their foot on loose gravel and fall.

“Percy was twelve years old, and it had been half a decade since she had a friend. Her last friend had been a girl called Clara, a young woman who had humored her for a while when she was seven. Clara had been quiet, unspeaking, and she shook. And one day she got a determined look in her eyes, bought Percy a loaf of bread, patted her orange curls, and left.

“Percy decided, then, that she wanted a friend. Now that she was twelve, she thought, she ought to have one. But friends in Hadells were shifty and shady—difficult to come by and harder to keep.

“‘Excuse me, but where could I find a friend?’ asked Percy of a stray wind.

“‘Not here,’ it hissed, and flew away.

“She put the same question to an ugly lizard vendor, who frowned and waved a hand vaguely, as if to say, damned if I know. Damned anyway, actually.

“She asked a tall woman with emerald curls, who smiled, snakelike, and told her to come and see. Percy may not have had guidance, but she knew enough to run.

“Finally, she asked a small, wide-eyed creature with red leather for skin and a tongue like white fire. It hopped deep, deep into the fog of a side alley, and Percy followed.

“She followed it into a mossy cave, where—of all things—was a dilapidated street cart selling hot enchiladas. ‘Buy an enchilada,’ said the creature, ‘get one friend for free. The only price is…’ and its eyes narrowed and it gave her a glance as though it were reading her, white tongue flicking over leathery mouth. ‘The only price, my darling, is your soul.’”

“And Persephone’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed, but more in debate than suspicion. Was it worth it?

“She had no sooner decided that yes, it was worth it, than she lost her soul, lost it to the little red creature; I found myself standing in the street above, holding an enchilada in one hand and the hand of a smiling girl in the other, hair shocked white, and my name no longer more than halfway suitable.

“I named myself Percival and never called myself Percy again. The girl didn’t have a name either, so I helped her choose one. She called herself Len. Len had short blond hair and clever grey eyes, and we were friends for many, many years.

“But the creature had gifted me a friend who was not soulless like I was, but real and human, and she died, as humans do. Without a soul, I found that I could not.

“It has been many years since then, and, like our friend Mr. Sylvansen, I have spent my years in pursuit of knowledge about the one who made me. I know very little.

“I know that it can be anything and anyone. I know that it has taken many things from many people. I know that nobody it meets is ever the same after.

“And I know that everyone in this room has been affected, one way or another, by the creature that took my soul.”

₼

The silence had turned icy-cold. The rain drove itself furiously into the ground, heedless of the lightning splitting its frantic assembly. Somewhere close by, fire had begun to flicker, doused but never quite extinguished by the deluge.

The child’s green-gold eyes were wide and rolled slightly. They stood, face twitching spasmodically between a grimace and a mad grin. In the fire, their hair, shocked straight out from their head (By electricity? By some freak of nature?) glowed a shifting, burning orange. They looked like a live little flame, hovering a few feet in the air.

They began to speak in a terrified sing-song voice.

The eater eats your soul and sprite, the spirit trapped within!

The eater eats your heart and mind, it wants your secret sins.

The eater dwells in forests and in cities’ clouded air!

The eater dwells on mountains, and she’s waiting—right up there!

The child jabbed a desperate finger at the ceiling, over and over, like a puppet.

The eater eats us all someday no matter how we flee!

The eater ate young Adelaide and now it’s come for me!

The eater’s feet are shuffling along the wooden floor.

The eater’s claws are grasping, and they’re heading for the door!

There was no flash of lightning, no clap of thunder. The rain didn’t even hush to provide a dramatic silence. There was simply a knock—a polite, quiet knock—barely audible over the sound of the storm.

Six faces looked at one another in heavy terror. Breath came labored, slowly. Percival stood, white hair glinting in the low illumination. She looked each person in their eyes. “Come in,” she whispered. A whisper was all that was necessary.

The door opened. The figure standing in it was that of an old woman. Silver hair pulled back in a bun—slightly hunch-backed—wearing a pink shawl. Kindly eyes. She smiled broadly, and her eyes fixed on the child.

“Darling!” she said, bustling in and shutting the door against the gale. “Oh, my child. You have no idea—I’ve been looking for you for years—my child, my grandchild!”

Frightened faces turned to look at that of the child. A moment before, it had seemed the most afraid of all. Now doubt flickered across the wild features—doubt and longing. The child desired more than all to belong to someone, to lose the independence that had forged them into something not-quite-human, the independence that had carried them over this mountain. The independence that, last night, had set them knocking at the door of a carriage, where a young and beautiful witch had seen their face and gone into paroxysms of grief for the creature she saw waiting for them just the next night.

“Come home with me, sweetheart,” said the old woman. “I’ve missed you so.”

The child swallowed deeply. Percival’s eyes flashed. In the shadowed corner, Harrien had snuffed out the candle, and he and Trevor were on their feet, tense. The grey boy was cowering, and Trevor’s wife looked bewildered.

“Stand down, old friend,” said Percival. “I know you.”

The woman’s eyes swung to her, and something in them clicked in recognition.

“I know you, t-too,” stammered the boy, arms flung up to shield his head.

Another glance, another click.

“Our father knew you,” said Harrien, and Trevor took his hand and nodded, mute and stunned.

“And my,” said the wife, still disbelieving, “and my great-great-great grandmother too, I think.”

Warm eyes gone cold scanned them all and the eater, faced with something it had never encountered before, met with familiar faces, nodded grimly. Something rippled under its soft skin.

“Stand down,” Percival repeated.

The eater’s eyes rolled angrily. “But Percy, darling, they are mine.”

“It’s Percival. They belong to no one.”

The shape by the door let out a hiss unfamiliar to the tongues of grandmothers. “Exactly.”

“S-stand down; they — they aren’t yours to t-t-t — to take.” The boy’s stutter was worse than ever.

“Adelaide, Adelaide,” sang the eater, and he covered his ears with his hand.

“What do you want?” asked Trevor. Harrien had opened his mouth to say stand down, but he closed it and looked curious.

“Them.”

“Their soul?” asked Percival.

“Their n- their name, whatever it is—” the boy said quickly.

“Spirit?” queried Trevor’s wife.

“Curiosity?” asked the Sylvansens.

“Them.”

“My freedom,” said the child very quietly.

“You,” said the eater, hungrily.

The child drew a hand furiously across their crying eyes. “You can’t.”

The eater could have whatever it wanted. It shook off the form of the grandmother and became something else. A bright orange knit sweater fell to the floor and coiled there, becoming a chain and lock briefly, and then vanishing to some other plane.

The eater lunged.

In the same moment, Harrien Sylvansen, seeker of lost knowledge and trained sorcerer, beckoned a hand to the fire encroaching upon the mountain outside. As the fire leaped, he shouted run! and six faces, briefly confused, saw his meaning as the house went up in flames.

Trevor gathered his wife into his arms and ran with Harrien out the door, the grey-haired boy at their heels. Percival, who had gathered the child into her own arms, ducked to avoid the eater and scrambled toward the exit, not in time.

The eater’s substance twisted, and so did the house, bursting wide and sending flaming boards in all directions. The mountain was alight.

The family of three huddled with Adelaide, and a few feet away stood Percival, white hair flaming momentarily and then put out by the wind and rain, the child huddled in the thick folds of her skirt. Ash fell from her hair, shorn to her shoulders, white gone cindery and black.

The eater crouched in the remains of the fireplace.

There is no time, they heard without sound, and there is no space. The rain will not stop for you and the mountain will not move. The stars never ceased their dance for the life of a human.

The child knew they were not human, and the words registered.

Slowly the folds of the skirt pulled aside, and their pale face and bright eyes flinched at the storm. “So,” they said. “Take me, then.”

I will devour you, said the eater.

“Oh, yes,” said the child. “I imagine you will.”

Percival muttered something quiet and desperate, but the child had tilted forward suddenly out of her grasp, sprinting across the remaining distance to the thing that wanted to eat them.

The child, too small, struggled forward against wind and rain, and met their hunter.

Black nothing consumed them, swallowed them. They forced their mouth open, forced their eyes to bear stinging a little longer. They began to speak again in their frightened sing-song.

I know something you don’t know,

They sang and they swallowed nothing and everything, lost souls and lost courage and forgotten names. They spit and coughed and kept singing.

I know something you don’t know,

I know who you are

I want that which you desire,

Swallow me, a star.

The eater swallowed them. They spat out the last of the things that choked them, and felt something tightening round their chest and neck.

You’ve been looking long and hard,

That is what I know.

Searching for yourself, I guess,

Everywhere you go.

The rushing in their ears stopped. The eater was listening.

Trevor’s father wondered things,

Clara was vivacious.

Grey-boy’s name that was his own,

Percy’s soul so gracious.

Clever child, said the eater. You know what I want.

And they both lunged for it at the same time, grasping for the same thing inside one another. But the eater was old and tired, and weighed down by the things it had eaten, more than a lifetime of full meals. It didn’t know what it sought, and it didn’t realize that many of the things it ate, it had already.

The child knew what they wanted, and the child won. “You’re mine now,” they smiled, feeling the rush of release.

They stood in the storm, the eater curled at their feet, independence gone.

The other travelers stared.

“I don’t think it can give back what it took. Sorry,” shrugged the child. They were young and selfish and didn’t particularly care whether the others got their dues, as long as they were safe. “I don’t want it here, either,” they said ponderously. They were also old beyond their years.

Harrien disentangled himself from his newfound family and pushed forth against the rain and wind. “I can unbind it,” he said. “But….”

“What happens then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell it a story,” shouted Percival across the noise of the downpour.

Harrien smiled his crooked smile. He bent to look more closely at the eater. “Come with me,” he said, fingers twitching in the air nearby. “Let me help you understand something.”

The eater disengaged itself from the child, who ran weeping to collapse against Percival. Harrien and the shadow disappeared behind the last standing wall of the house.

Everyone else stood heedless of the pummeling rain, breath held, waiting.

Something flapped away, barely visible in the humid air, over the scorched wall and into the clouds, which swirled briefly around its retreat. Harrien sauntered out from behind the wall.

Six strangers on a burning mountain—not entirely human, not entirely whole, and not entirely unfamiliar anymore—sat huddled together to wait out the storm.

#short story #my writing #horror #surrealism #i wrote this last summer #because i was in a chalet with a lot of strangers #and i wanted to get everyone to tell stories #but i am shy #so i wrote about it instead #i feel like this is a common trope but i had fun with it

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generallynerdy · 6 years ago

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Our Little Secret Epilogue (Merlin & Child!Reader, Mordred X Reader)

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, and 14

Summary: An old friend returns from the grave to to find the world he abandoned is not quite as he remembers it, nor are its people.

Key: (Y/N) - your name

Warnings: author insert but u can’t prove anything, cursing probably, grieving, minor injuries, blood, mentions of death, mentions of funerals, REUNIONS

Word Count: 3,526

Note: i’m so proud of this okay lancelot became more important than i thought he would be and also i didn’t kill the dog are u proud of me??? u should be i was really planning on it. Thus ends Our Little Secret. I hope you enjoyed it as much as i did!!!!

nobody guessed the amount of title drops (it was 23) but i wasn’t actually gonna keep this from u lmao no

It was as bright a day as any in Camelot, a day like any other. The knights were training in the field, the children were playing in the lower town, and the king was hunting in the woods with his servant.

“Wonderful day, Merlin. Don’t you think?” Arthur asked, his horse trotting at a leisurely rate.

Merlin laughed. “Sure, if you consider hunting wonderful. I’d rather be home-- asleep.”

“You have no sense of adventure, even after all these years,” Arthur sighed.

“That’s exactly why I have none,” his companion scoffed. “I’m done with adventure, thank you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a branch snapped in the forest, making both men jump. Arthur drew his sword when a figure emerged from the woods. However, the man that appeared seemed harmless, as he was grasping his side and was close to collapsing.

“Who are you?” Arthur spat. “Show your face.”

He tried to speak, but refused to look up, so neither could hear him.

“I order you to show yourself!”

It was then he looked up, blood dripping from his mouth as he fell to his knees. His face was pale, his hair wild, yet they both recognised him instantly.

Arthur dismounted, eyes wide as Merlin spoke a name no one had in years.

“Lancelot?”

Days before Samhain, (Y/N) invaded Lancelot’s room. She entered without a word of warning, flopping onto the knight’s small but comfy bed. He stood behind a screen, changing out of his armour.

She blew a raspberry, letting her legs fall over the side of the bed. Suddenly, a thought came to her. She should tell Lancelot.

“I want to be a knight.”

There was a moment of silence. (Y/N) felt her heart clench tighter with each millisecond that passed without speech. Lancelot paused in his movements. She could tell because of the rattle of his chain mail that suddenly stopped. After a second, it was back again and he was finishing up.

“Oh?” He asked.

She felt her breath leave her. “I don’t want to be a serving girl for the rest of my life. But I can’t do anything with magic. So, I want to be a knight.”

“And how--?” He started to ask, appearing from behind the screen, dressed in comfortable clothes rather than his uniform. “--do you plan to do that?”

“Well,” she hummed almost sheepishly, “I’ll need a teacher. And I’ll have to convince Arthur to let me do it.”

Lancelot shrugged and crossed the room. She took up the bottom half of the bed, so he laid horizontally across the top, glancing over at her with a sparkle in his eyes. He lifted his arms to lay under his head.

“That shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“You think?”

He shook his head. “If you’re trained well enough, Arthur would have no quarrel.”

“But I wonder who would teach me,” she said, faking thought.

She obviously had an idea in her head of who would. It was a foolish little hope, but seeing as Lancelot wasn’t against her being a knight, she thought he would accept.

“Someone in mind?” Lancelot teased, knowing full well who she wanted as her teacher.

(Y/N) flipped over on the bed and sat on her knees instead, looking down at the man. “Do you really think I could be a knight?”

“Well, it is hard work,” he said with a joking smirk. “Perhaps something a lady isn’t suited for.”

She huffed and hit his chest without much effort. He laughed loudly and pulled her wrist to drag her into a bear hug. She squeaked in protest and fought against his arms as he tickled her sides. The girl screamed for him to let her go, but he refused.

When he did stop, he hugged her tightly. “I do think you could be one, (Y/N). If anyone could, it would be you.”

“Will you train me, then?” (Y/N) asked with wide eyes, turning to face him.

Lancelot grinned. “After Samhain,” he said, touching his finger to her nose lightly, “We’ll talk about it.”

“YES!” She cheered, flinging herself at his neck to hug him again. “I won’t let you down, Lancelot! I promise!”

He shook his head, a permanent smile painted on his face. “You never do.”

(Y/N) shifted her feet in the grass, sword raised high as she readied herself for the attack. Three men surrounded her, each of different stature and skill. As such, she spun slowly, watching each man’s movement to be sure she was ready for whoever struck first.

Despite expecting it to be the big one, it was actually the smallest, who swung at her with such speed that she almost fell over dodging his blow. Nonetheless, the sword just barely missed her and she whirled around the man, kicking him into the burlier one. Both fell over while she focused her attention on the last, who engaged in a violent duel with her.

In the end, she was simply too quick and used their own size against them, constantly making them run into each other. Eventually, the small and big ones were knocked onto the ground, though the last enemy remained standing. (Y/N) went to hit him again, but he raised his hand to stop her.

“Alright,” he announced, “That’s enough.”

(Y/N) stopped, breathing heavily as he dropped his hand. On the ground, the bigger man stood and helped the smaller one up, both of them out of breath and in pain, seeing as the young woman had rightly bested them.

Leon couldn’t help but a smile at the sight of his two friends so exhausted. “You did well, (Y/N).”

“You’re getting faster,” Percival muttered as he brushed himself off.

She passed her sword to Leon and laughed a little. “It helps that you three are predictable.”

“Predictable!” Gwaine, the last of the trio, huffed indignantly. He reached over to ruffle her hair. “That’s just rude.”

(Y/N) glared at him, smacking his hand away. She smiled playfully. “I’ll show you rude!”

Thus, she leapt upon him, starting a wrestling match that made Percival and Leon laugh, not to mention Elyan and the others around them on the training grounds.

Up in the castle, a shadow lingered in the throne room window, watching the scene below. He was shaken from his own thoughts by a solitary voice questioning him, as it had been for nearly an hour.

“And this sorceress that found you--” Arthur started, “Did she tell you anything? Perhaps why she brought you back or how?”

The others in the room, namely Merlin, Gaius, and Gwen, awaited his answer anxiously.

Lancelot shook his head. “Not anything I could understand. The language she spoke was English, but it was-- it was rugged and almost primitive. It was like riddles. I couldn’t get a word of it.”

“Alright, you handsome bastard. Up and at ‘em. I didn’t murder a man for nothing. Time to send you back to Camelot before my readers murder me.”

Lancelot grasped his side, which still ailed him, but not enough that it prevented him from standing. He looked out the window again, watching as the mysterious lady knight was pulled apart from Sir Gwaine and they gave up their fight in good humour. She was greeted by a young man with dark curls, who kissed her sweetly and said something that made her smile.

Arthur joined him at the window, following his gaze. “See something interesting?”

“A lady knight?” The dead man questioned. “You truly have changed Camelot for the better, Arthur.”

“Thank you,” the king answered. “But...”

He glanced back at the others, who all smiled knowingly. Gwen motioned for him to go on, excited for Lancelot to know, but Merlin beat both of them to it.

“That’s no ordinary lady,” Merlin grinned.

Lancelot turned to him with furrowed eyebrows. “No?” He looked back at the window, then to the others again, eyes wide. “You can’t mean--”

It came to him as a sudden realisation, a brick wall to the face. That lady knight was none other than (Y/N), who had been merely a teenager when Lancelot died. They had been great friends, so much so that the girl considered him an older brother, much like Merlin had been to her. He was a role model to her, seeing as her greatest wish in all the world was to become a knight. It seemed that she had accomplished all that she wanted and more.

“Little (Y/N),” Lancelot whispered in awe. He frowned when he remembered the young man next to her. “And the boy assaulting her?”

Gwen laughed. “That’s Mordred. I think he’s more than earned the right to kiss her.”

“Speak for yourself,” Merlin muttered.

Lancelot glanced at the young warlock. “Nice to know we agree on that,” he sighed. “Anything else I should know?”

“Uh,” Merlin cleared his throat. “They know. About my magic and (Y/N)’s.”

“Finally,” Lancelot laughed. “Must be nice to get that off your chest.”

Merlin laughed. “You have no idea.”

“Lancelot?” A young (Y/N) entered the knight’s room hesitantly, knocking on the door slightly.

He appeared from behind a screen, fully donned in armour and ready to go. He grabbed his sword from a table and slid it into its sheath, finally meeting the teenager’s eyes after he did so.

“Yes?” When she didn’t reply at first, he sighed. “I have to go, (Y/N). The others will leave without me if I don’t and Arthur needs to be protected.”

“Merlin says he’s determined to sacrifice himself,” she whispered.

Lancelot’s gaze softened. He strode over to her and took her by the shoulders into a hug. “He’ll be fine. Merlin and I will keep him safe. I promise.”

“Magic always comes with a price,” she said. “Someone will have to die. But if you let me come, maybe I could find a spell--”

“No. It’s too dangerous. I won’t let you risk discovery like that.” He went silent. “All of them will return. Every single one.”

“Time to go,” said Merlin, appearing in the doorway.

He saw their tight embrace and (Y/N)’s worried expression, cracking a small fond smirk. They were like the two siblings he’d never had, if he was honest.

Merlin sighed a little. “Don’t worry about us or Arthur, (Y/N).”

“That’s cruel of you to ask,” she huffed through Lancelot’s armour, which her face was buried in.

Lancelot laughed a little. “Don’t worry. Merlin will take care of us. Won’t you?”

“I promise,” Merlin grinned, not thinking much of the statement. “We’d better go.”

The sorcerer nodded at Lancelot, then exited the room, giving them a moment before they had to catch up with the others.

The loyal knight released the girl and, with a soft smile, kissing her forehead fondly. He spoke not another word before leaving the room. She went to stop him, to get him to say a proper goodbye, but words failed her. She glanced down at her hands, heart sinking.

“Goodbye,” (Y/N) whispered.

This day was anything but normal for (Y/N).

As soon as morning training was over, she called Spot to her side and proceeded into the forest, otherwise alone. She walked with purpose toward a clearing, which was entirely empty except for a large boulder surrounded by various flora. The rock had been taken from a cave nearby, a place the young woman knew well. It was where she had first befriended Merlin, so it felt appropriate to take a memorial marker from there.

Taking a knee in front of the stone, (Y/N) said a quiet greeting before shifting to sit criss-cross. She laid her sword gently before the marker, having removed it from its sheath. Old Spot then whimpered and lied down around the stone, watching as his master picked at grass and sighed.

After a long vigil of silence, she spoke.

“I told myself I would never drive myself to the point where I needed to talk to you,” she said. “But I suppose things change.”

She spoke not to the dog, but to the stone he protected. She did not speak loud enough for anyone in the woods to hear her, but if they lingered at the edge of the clearing, her voice would be clear as day.

“I miss you,” she muttered. “It’s difficult, watching everyone so happy, so peaceful. And knowing that you never got to see it. It’s difficult to be happy. Whenever I imagined myself as a knight, you were always there with me; teaching me, training me. But you’re not here and--”

(Y/N) sniffled, begging herself not to cry. She took a deep breath to restore her sanity and continued to speak.

“I think you’d be proud of me. I hope you’re proud of me.” Her words were almost silent, but her next statement was louder. “That day-- the day when it happened, I thought it was Arthur I needed to say goodbye to. It was him I cried over and recounted every good memory with. When he came back, I was happy beyond words, but, then…”

The poor girl had begun to cry, tears dripping down her face and onto the grass. Her tears watered the flowers, but they drowned her own heart.

“Arthur has returned!”

The second the cry went out, (Y/N) was racing from the highest tower in the castle to the courtyard. She had been keeping watch for the knights, Arthur, and Merlin for hours, but the gate guards saw them before she did, miraculously. Nearly tripping over herself multiple times, the girl managed to descend tens upon tens of staircases and make it to the entrance steps before even Gwen.

When she made it there, she found all of them dismounting their horses. (Y/N) barely registered their dismal faces, especially when they saw her.

“Arthur!”

She raced down the stairs to meet Arthur as soon as he was on the ground, crushing him in a hug. The others glanced between each other. Merlin found himself unable to breathe as he looked at the girl, so happy that Arthur had made it back alive. How could he give her the news?

Arthur was shaking as he held her. He was frozen otherwise, unable to move or to give her comfort. His face was solemn, while his eyes were bloodshot from crying.

“You’re alive! You made it!” (Y/N) rambled to him, not noticing his odd behaviour.

Meanwhile, Gwen appeared at the entranceway and began to descend the stairs. She, however, instantly noticed that something was off and stopped before she reached Arthur and (Y/N).

“I knew you’d be alright. Lancelot said you’d be, right L--?” She looked around him to address the knight, but he wasn’t there. “Where’s Lancelot?

Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival were the only knights standing there. They could not bear to meet her gaze, except for Leon. He had given the speech to family members of fallen knights many times, but this one defeated him. He could not find the words to comfort her.

“Is he alright? Is he hurt? Did you leave him in the woods?” (Y/N) began to spout out random excuses. The one most prominent in her mind was one she dared not speak. “Did Morgana take him? Do we need to rescue him? Is he--?”

Arthur interrupted her, pulling something from his saddlebag and holding it out to her.

It was a red cape, dirtied and torn, but neatly folded. This was ruined when (Y/N) clutched it in her shaking hands, turning it into a bundle of dusty cloth.

“What do you think?”

“Hm, it’s a little long for you.”

“It’s not like I’m tripping over it. I’ll grow into it, anyway.”

“I doubt you’ll grow more, (Y/N). You’ll just be stuck as a tiny person forever.”

“Hey! I’m not tiny!”

Tears stung (Y/N)’s eyes.

The rest of the world became fuzzy around her, even Gwen’s light sob from the middle of the staircase. Gaius had appeared at the top of the steps, but she didn’t notice him either. Her gaze was frozen on the cape in her hands, though it was blurred by tears.

“The cost was too high,” Arthur whispered. He closed his eyes and took her head in his hands, pressing his forehead against hers fondly. “I’m sorry.”

When he pulled back, (Y/N) spoke in a hushed whisper. “You’re lying. You’re lying. He-- he can’t-- he--”

“(Y/N)--” Merlin said, appearing at her side.

He reached forward to touch her arm, perhaps to draw her into a hug, but her reaction was instant. She whirled to face him and, closing the bundle of red cloth in her left fist, began punching his chest. It was painful, Merlin admitted, but he took it. He knew she was hurting.

“YOU PROMISED!” She shrieked, her breath coming out in sobs. “You promised! You-- you--!”

Her movements slowed and weakened, her arms soon falling at her sides. Her knuckles were cut open with the force of her punches, which broke Merlin’s heart. He grabbed her arms and pulled her into a tight embrace, cheeks stained with his own tears.

“You promised,” she whispered, almost gagging on the lack of oxygen in her lungs.

“I know,” he replied shakily. “I know. I couldn’t stop him. He wouldn’t let me stop him. I’m sorry.”

“I cried for hours. I was incorrigible. Leon held my hand all the way from my room to the funeral. It was the only way I would go. Agravaine ripped your cloak from my hands, intending to burn it with your sword.” (Y/N) let out a laugh that was halfway to a sob. “Percival ripped it right back, threatening to chop his hands off if he touched me again. I think he really was afraid of me after that, seeing how dear the knights considered me.”

She looked away from the boulder for a moment, touching the cloak around her shoulders with fond gentleness.

“I still wear it. It makes me feel like you’re there, sometimes.” Suddenly, her voice broke with her next statement. “You never said goodbye.”

“I know,” a voice whispered upon the breeze.

(Y/N) knew it was not real, but she felt it resonate within her. She felt a presence, hoping her old friend was listening from the spirit world. It took everything in her to wipe away her tears and calm her breathing, regaining her composure slowly but surely.

“I think of you often,” she gasped through weak breaths. “I miss you terribly. I wonder what you would say if you were here.”

“I would tell you how proud of you I am.”

The words had barely reached (Y/N)’s ears when she flung herself from the ground, sword firmly in hand. In a second, she was facing the intruder with her sword at the ready, convinced that they were an enemy.

She did not hesitate to draw her weapon, despite the voice’s words, because she knew for a fact that Lancelot was dead. Even when faced with a person who looked exactly like him and sounded like him, she did not lower her sword. (Y/N) was convinced that her mind was playing tricks on her-- or someone else was.

“How proud I am,” he continued, unfazed, “Of the person you’ve become, the things you’ve done.”

It was when these words left his mouth that (Y/N)’s grip on her sword slipped. It didn’t fall entirely, but her weapon was lowered. She could hardly believe her eyes. The sight of Lancelot was so real that she doubted for a moment that he was her imagination.

“I would tell you--” He wore a small smile on his face as he exhaled sharply. “I would tell you that I’ve missed you more than anything. And how sorry-- how sorry I am for not saying goodbye.”

(Y/N) let her sword fall out of her hand, landing on the grass with a quiet thump. She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Lancelot in desperation. A smile painted her expression, but tears still found their way down her cheeks. He took the hug gratefully, embracing her back just as tightly and burying his head in her hair.

They took no notice of the small entourage that had insisted upon following Lancelot. Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, and the knights, including Mordred, lingered in the forest behind them, watching fondly as the two were reunited. Gwaine made a joke about being robbed of his Lancelot title before promptly wiping at his eyes suspiciously. No one pointed it out.

Meanwhile, little old Spot yipped at the newcomer and ran up to his ankles, sniffing at him curiously. Spot never forgot a face.

“You’re alive,” (Y/N) whispered. “How?”

He pulled away to brush her hair back, examining her face in wondrous awe. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here. And I’ll never leave you again.”

“Promise?” She asked, looking up at him as if she were a child again.

He nodded, a soft smile reflecting the state of his heart. “Promise.”

boi im cryin

Merlin Tags: @pearlll09

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madamebaggio · 7 years ago

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Chapter 4

“You are quiet.” Bedivere spoke suddenly, making everybody look at him, until they noticed he was looking at Bill.

“Yes… I was thinking about something Arthur said.” He explained.

“What exactly?” Bedivere wanted to know.

“Arthur said that Lady Sansa claimed the king would not care if she was hurt.” He looked at Arthur. “Correct?”

“Yes. So?” Arthur asked.

“Why would she be here if Vortigern didn’t care for her?” Bill pointed out. “She has to be somehow necessary. He bought her.”

Bedivere turned to Percival. “How much did the king pay for her?”

“We do not know exactly.” He informed the others. “However, Maggie heard rumors that go anywhere from a hundred to a thousand ships.”

Arthur arched a brow. “He exchanged one girl for ships?”

“Yes.” Percival confirmed.

“So she thinks he does not care for her…” Bill started.

“But he must want something.” Bedivere completed.

“And the question is… What?” Bill finished.

“Didn’t Maggie say she is the last of her family?” Rubio interrupted. “Maybe he wants her lands.”

“But is it that much?” Wet Stick threw in. “I mean, if she was the princess and all, but isn’t she just the daughter of someone?”

That made them all quiet.

“There is another possibility.” Mage suddenly spoke, attracting everybody’s attention.

“What are you thinking?” Arthur wanted to know.

“What do we know about Westeros?” She asked.

“Dragons.” Most people around the room said at the same time.

The Mage rolled her eyes. “Besides that.”

“Not much.” Bedivere admitted. “I remember something about Kings that married their sisters, and a great wall, but not much more.”

“I remember the story about a wall too.” Bill said, then shrugged. “But no more than that.”

“You said her name is Stark, right?” Rubio asked.

“Yes.” Bedivere confirmed.

“I used to know the name of the old Houses of Westeros.” The boy commented. “My father liked to test me in the smallest things. What I know is that her House is one of the oldest ones. I might be remembering this wrong, but I think they were once called the Kings of Winter.”

The Mage arched a brow and Bill noticed. “What are you thinking?” He wanted to know.

“Old families often have magic in their blood.” She started explaining. “If the House managed to keep the bloodline somewhat pure…” She looked into the distance. “She might still have a good amount of magic in her blood.”

“What can Vortigern use it for?” Bedivere questioned.

“Many things.” The Mage shrugged. “If she is a virgin, he might even sacrifice her.”

“If he was going to sacrifice her he could have done it as soon as he got her.” Back Slack indicated.

“Maybe he wants to wait for the Tower to be ready.” Bedivere reasoned.

“Or maybe he will marry her.” Bill pointed out.

They all turned to him. “He does not have an heir.” The man indicated. “Princess Katia cannot inherit the throne.”

“He could want the magic blood for his heir.” The Mage agreed.

“But again… Why hasn’t he married her already?” Wet Stick pushed.

“She is too young.” Back Lack indicated. “He looked at her, saw his daughter; couldn’t do it.”

“Many nobles do it without thinking about it.” Bedivere reminded the other man.

“How many of them keep their daughters inside a castle?” Back Lack insisted. “The lass doesn’t even have a betrothed.”

“We don’t know for sure, but it is a possibility.” Rubio sighed.

“There is only one way to know.” The Mage concluded. “I need her blood.”

They all looked at her like she was crazy. “What for?” Wet Stick demanded, shocked.

“So I can see if it has magic.” The Mage said as if it was obvious.

“Her blood?” He insisted, still a bit shocked.

The Mage rolled her eyes. “Fine. A lock of hair will do.”

“You could have started with that.” Back Lack pointed out dryly.

“Blood would be better.” The Mage simply said.

“But even if it is just the hair… How are we going to get it?” Percival asked.

“I will get it.” Arthur suddenly said.

He’d been quiet this whole time, listening to this conversation and the theories being thrown around.

“What did you just say?” Back Lack asked.

“I will go and get it.” Arthur repeated firmly.

“Why you?” Bill wanted to know.

“It is too risky.” Bedivere was already shaking his head. “You cannot go…”

“Whatever, Bedivere.” Arthur brushed off his protests. “I can be in and out before anyone notices. I’m the most indicated for this.”

Bill was looking at him, an eyebrow arched. “Or you just really want to see the lady.”

Arthur snorted. “I never said I did.”

Bill scoffed. “Le him go, if he thinks he is the best choice.” The man drawled.

“I do not even know why you are pretending I have any say over this.” Bedivere grumbled.

“That is the spirit, Bed.” Arthur slapped the older man on the shoulder.

***

“Is this better?”

Sansa looked at the handkerchief Katia was presenting her.

“It is much better, princess.” She told the other woman honestly. “You are improving greatly.”

Katia’s cheeks were flushed with the praise. “It is because you are so patient. My tutor was always snapping at me.”

“It is hardly necessary.”

Katia put her embroidery down. “Sansa… How was being betrothed to someone?”

Sansa’s hand paused on her work. “Perhaps… I am not the best person to ask, princess.”

Katia blushed furiously. “I am so sorry! This was so unsensitive of me…”

“It is no problem, Katia.” Sansa gave her a small smile.

Nowadays, Katia was the only person that got honest smiles from Sansa. The young princess was honestly good, even if she occasionally had bratty moments. Sansa felt truly sorry for her, locked away in a castle, waiting for life to pass her by.

It was strange to feel protective of someone that was older than her. However, Katia was unbelievably naïve; like Sansa had been one day.

“It was a dream, at first.” Sansa finally replied. “He was my beautiful golden prince and I would be queen one day. I blinded myself to all the signs that were shoved in my face, I ignored my father’s advice and my own intuition…”

Sansa paused and took a deep breath, before looking at Katia. “My father said he would find someone worthy of me; strong, gentle and brave. I told him I did not want that, I wanted Joffrey.” She shook her head at herself. “I was a stupid little girl.”

“I am sorry for asking.” Katia murmured softly.

“I know you want to find a knight of your own.” Sansa told her gently. “But your father loves you…” At least Sansa thought he did. “He is probably waiting to find the best possible match for you.”

Katia gave her a small smile. “I always wanted to fall in love.” She confessed. “Like in the songs you sing.”

Sansa just smiled at her, because she didn’t have the heart to tell Katia that songs were all lies and there was no one gentle, brave and strong in this world.

***

“Why am I here?”

Arthur arched a brow at Percival. “You offered to come.” He reminded the other man dryly.

“I am talking to myself.” Percival told him.

“If you are scared you can go, lad.” Back Lack threw at him.

“This is a stupid idea from a strategic point of view.” Percival indicated. “If they catch us…”

“So we don’t get caught.” Arthur spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Then no problems.”

Percival’s expression revealed his complete lack of amusement.

“Now, Back Lack.” Arthur turned to the man. “Keep the horses ready in case we have to leave in a hurry.

“Will do.”

“You…” He turned to Percival. “Start climbing.”

Percival sighed, but turned to the outside wall of the small keep and did was he was ordered.

They decided to get inside the place without Maggie’s help, so in case they were found, nobody could implicate anyone of the house as accomplice.

Percival still thought it was a stupid idea, but he had volunteered to come. Mostly because he knew the keep.

A lot had changed in his life since he’d become involved with the rebels, but Percival was, actually, from a noble family; a lower one, but noble nonetheless. His parents knew Maggie’s family and they’d played together as children, including in this particular place.

It was how they all got involved with the rebels. Well, not all of them, most of Maggie’s family was still pretty much in favor of the King, if nothing else for fear.

They landed by the side of the stable, and looked around. “The rooms used to be over there.” Percival pointed for Arthur. “I don’t think they have changed that.”

Arthur slapped him on the shoulder. “Excellent. You guard the entrance. If someone suspects anything, whistle and I’ll come down.”

“Yes, because me whistling out of nowhere won’t be suspicious at all.”

Arthur -as expected -just ignored him again. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

Percival sighed. Why was he here again?

***

Sansa felt as if she was playing some odd game of cat and mouse with Lady Maggie. The lady in question had been avoiding being alone with her; she only engaged Sansa in extremely polite conversation and never stayed in a situation where they could have a private talk even among other people.

Sansa had avoided her for a while too, right after they came back from Londinium. However, once she realized Maggie was running from her, Sansa decided to change tactics. She had no intention of talking to Maggie about the rebels and what had happened on Londinium, but… The other woman didn’t need to know that.

There was something there, and Sansa wanted to know what it was. She was tired of being a pawn and being passed from one side to the other. She didn’t know exactly what she was doing, but it was still interesting to watch Maggie squirming.

She went to her chambers after supper, decided to think better about the situation, but the Gods where never in her favor.

As soon as she opened the door she found him, leaning against her wall, casually flipping through one of the poetry books she had.

For a delirious second, she prayed she had finally lost her mind, but then he raised his eyes briefly to her and said, “What took you so long, Red?” and she realized this was real.

She closed the door behind herself. “What are you doing here?” She demanded, her voice a hiss, wildly looking around.

“I feel like I should say something dramatic and poetic about…”

“GET OUT!” She almost screeched, but seemed to control herself at the last minute.

“Excuse you. You’re destroying my fantasy here.” He told her dryly.

“Your fantasy?” She was astounded by the nerve… “What are you doing here?” She demanded once again.

“Came to see you.” He declared simply, putting the book down on the closest flat surface.

“Why?” She wanted to know. “I already told you I have no value…”

“You see…” He shook his finger at her. “That’s where you’re wrong, princess. The King paid for you. You have to be valuable somehow.” He looked her up and down. “Is he visiting your chambers at night?”

Sansa gasped. “What? How dare you? King Vortigern treats me with respect…”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “So a few kind words are enough for you to defend a man like him?”

“Yes!” She snapped. “It is! Because the previous King I lived with liked to humiliate me as much as possible, and -on occasion -beat me up in front of the rest of the court. So forgive me, if I seek a bit of peace now.”

Arthur took a deep breath, and Sansa saw his hands closing on fists by his side. She took a step back, suddenly a bit scared.

“Why is it enough?” He demanded again. “Shouldn’t you be still hoping? Shouldn’t you still want a hero?”

She scoffed. “There are no heroes. In this world we live in, no one can save anyone.”

***

Percival tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, while he kept his post on the stables. From that position, he could clearly see the hallway that led to the family chambers of the keep. If soldiers tried to capture Arthur, they’d have to go through there, and the Born King would have to fly to escape them.

Percival snorted; it’d serve Arthur well if he got a scare out of this. He had no idea what the other man had on his mind, but this was a stupid idea, no matter how one looked at it.

He wondered if Arthur was truly doing this just to see the girl again, but then discarded the idea as an absurd one. Arthur knew how important this was; he wouldn’t risk anything for a girl he’d seen twice -once being from a distance.

While he was there waiting, a stable-hand saw him and told him to check on Pearl. Percival couldn’t say no, so he went to check on Pearl.

Pearl turned out to be a sweet mare that had a love for apples and a foal on the way.

Percival knew how to care for horses; even before this whole rebel thing happened, his father had loved horses, and insisted that Percival knew how to properly care for them. It was no sacrifice for him to check Pearl’s stall and sneak her an apple. Her stall was in a position that allowed him to keep his eyes on his real task, so he decided to give her a gentle brushing.

He was humming an old lullaby -one his mother used to sing to them -when he heard steps. He kept what he was doing, but there was a certain tension on his shoulders; these were soft steps, definitely not the other stable-hand.

The steps came closer and Percival met the startled eyes of Princess Katia.

“Your Highness.” He spoke quickly, lowering his eyes.

He didn’t need to be worried about being recognized by the princess. As previously said, he’d been a lower noble, hardly the type that met the King or his precious daughter.

“Hello.” She spoke softly. “I came to see Pearl. Lord Alistair said she is expecting a foal.”

“She is, my princess.” He spoke, more in a rumble. He had to be careful with his words now.

“Can I come in and touch her?” The princess asked.

Percival threw a quick look towards the hallway; no one there. He cleared his throat. “Aye, your highness.”

She gave him a small smile before opening the stall door. Percival once again looked at the entrance of the hallway; there were two guards passing by it, but just on their normal rounds.

“Just be gentle, my lady.” He murmured, when he saw the princess hesitating once she’d actually entered. “She’s a sweet girl.”

The princess gave him another shy smile. “She is.” She finally put her hand gently on Pearl’s neck. “Were you singing to her just now?”

“Aye.”

“That is quite kind of you.”

He raised his head suddenly and his eyes found the princess’s over Pearl’s back. She had blue-grey eyes and delicate features; it was somewhat odd to think that such a pretty and pure creature could be Vortigern’s daughter.

He was quick to lower his head again. “I do not remember you.” The princess suddenly spoke. “I thought there was another stable-hand here at this time.”

“I am new, my lady.” He answered, hoping against all hope she wouldn’t ask for his name.

The sound of female voices in the distance distracted the princess. She then sighed and took a step back. “I should go.” She murmured, though she didn’t owe him any satisfaction and she clearly didn’t want to go.

However, Percival knew very well she couldn’t stay there; she was a princess, he was -supposedly- a stable hand and they were alone. It was hardly proper and he could get in trouble for it.

“Have a good night, my lady.” He told her, nodding at her.

She gave him another shy smile. “You too.”

As she moved away he noticed something: she was humming the same lullaby he’d been humming before.

***

This was not right. Girls like Sansa Stark should dream of heroes and chivalrous acts; they should think the world was a beautiful and perfect place. She was a lady; she had a roof over her pretty had, she had food on her table, she didn’t need to worry about anything…

Arthur wanted Sansa Stark to be a spoiled lady, he wanted her to think the world was a perfect place.

He hated to see the coldness in her voice, the certainty in her statement. Arthur hated truly knowing what had happened to her. Maggie had only told them the Stark girl had been previously mistreated by a King; she hadn’t told them how.

There was a part inside of him that had wanted her to be just another sheltered lady, but she wasn’t. He hated knowing that.

“If there are no heroes, be your own hero.” He told her firmly. “Don’t roll over and let them push you around; protect yourself.”

She scoffed. “Spoken like a man. I do not expect you to understand me, but I do expect you to leave me alone.” She gave him a pointed look.

“I will, in a minute, princess. First, I want a lock of your hair.” He pointed at the fiery curl that was draped over her shoulder.

Sansa clasped her hands over it, hiding it from his view. “Why?” She demanded.

“We want to check something.” He told her. “We have a theory on why he wants you. You might not care, but I do.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “He is my enemy and I will do whatever it takes to purge this land of him. The question is… Do you want to know?”

Sansa looked down at the hand still grasping the hair. “What do you think he wants?”

“To sacrifice you.” Arthur informed her. “Quite literally: candles, daggers, virgin sacrifices… The whole spectacle.”

“Why me?” She insisted.

“That is why I need the lock for: to understand it. Will you give it to me?” He took a step closer.

Sansa looked into his eyes, then down at her own hand; she finally let go of her hair. “If it is just one lock…”

“It is.” Arthur assured her, pulling a small dagger from his belt, Sansa was startled by the sight of it and almost took a step back. “It is fine.” Arthur was fast to assure her. “I will not hurt you.”

She just nodded, eyes fixed on the blade. What had exactly happened to her? There was a story there that he didn’t know and it was driving him to distraction.

He stretched his left hand just enough to capture the lonely lock. The back of his finger brushed against her covered shoulder, and her eyes traced his movement, even though she remained silent. Arthur’s own eyes were fixed on the beautiful red of her hair, as he wrapped the strands around his finger; his thumb caressed it, and he marveled at the softness.

It was as if time had paused for a minute, and all he could do was look at her hair, her eyes and imagine a thousand things. He wanted to ask questions, he wanted to be schooled in her, so he would know all the secrets behind her eyes and her guarded words.

And the desire to know everything was strong enough to scare him. He needed to get away from her.

He raised his dagger and cut the lock, leaving him with fire wrapped around his finger. “Thank you, my lady.” He finally spoke, his voice rough, like he’d just woken up.

Her eyes lingered on his hand for a second, before she once again looked him in the eyes. “You should go.” Her voice was soft and uncertain.

Whatever had affected him, it certainly had affected her as well.

“Yes, my lady.”

***

Arthur waited impatiently as the Mage chanted. They were all there, silently watching as she proclaimed words, lit incense and circled it over the red lock.

He wanted answers, now.

The Mage finally put the incense down. “This is no good.” She finally spoke.

“Why? What happened?” Arthur demanded.

“She is in danger, and so are we.”

****

(NOTES: Du-du-duuuuuuh! By the way, I am really sorry for the delay. I said I would post it on Friday and I’m aware today is not Friday. Somethings happened, there were elections in my country... Anyway. I hope you enjoy it!)

#madame baggio #fanfic #crossover #sansa stark #game of thrones #king arthur #Arthur Pendragon #king arthur the legend of the sword #crackship #Sansa x Arthur #chapter 4 #gifs not mine #i wont believe in songs

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aurorofconfidence · 6 years ago

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@fcntcsticmuses very important moment

“You know, I’m honestly amazed your ass can cope with such a swollen head shoved up it!” Seraphina snapped.

“Well with the ram rod shoved up yours, I can see why you’d have difficulty with the idea of flexibility!” Percival growled in return.

“Flexibility?! You wouldn’t have the first idea what that word means! If you did, you’d have actually been willing to consider my plan!”

“Who was in charge of the raid again? I could have sworn Bane said ‘Graves’.”

“Just because you were in charge doesn’t mean you should ignore everyone else’s input! And I’ll remind you, for the millionth time over, we’re partners! We are supposed to work together! Doing everything your way is not working together!”

“Partners or not, Bane clearly thinks I’m the better auror, otherwise it would be your name on the brief.”

“You wouldn’t know either way, since you never do your fucking paperwork. And Bane doesn’t think you’re the better auror, he’s just terrified of your name. Sad that such a senior auror can roll over so fucking quickly.”

“If you hate me so much, go get a new partner. I hear O’Brien’s looking.”

“O’Brien’s abhorrent and hasn’t done any field work since he got here.”

“That’s not true. Bane sends him to pick up coffee all the time. You could take over those very important missions. You’ll be in the field more than I am.”

“Go fuck yourself Graves.”

“Ah, if only.”

“Men are fucking disgusting.”

“Picquery not in this morning?”

“Called in sick, I scared her off,” Percival smirked.

“Sounds like she was more repulsed than scared.”

“Nobody asked you Thomas,” Percival huffed, hitting the man with a jelly legs jinx as he passed.

“So disappointing she’s not here. She’s the only pretty thing around to look at,” O’Brien commented.

“I’m sure she’d greatly appreciate if you stopped,” Percival grimaced.

“I’m just glad we don’t have to hear her for once. Every fucking day she’s shrieking at you. Nicer to listen to a banshee,” Calahan complained.

Percival frowned slightly at that, not offering his opinion. She yelled at him mostly because he went out of his way to piss her off. She didn’t do it just to fill the silence.

“And I’ll be able to scratch my ass without being cursed for once,” O’Brien added.

“Nobody wants to see that O’Brien, I’ll curse you myself,” Percival said simply.

“I don’t envy you, paired up with a woman. Having to keep an eye on her all the time, trying to get her to make a decision, dealing with the fact she won’t just be a secretary like a normal person. How do you get anything done?” Calahan asked.

Percival narrowed his eyes into a glare, which made Calahan shut up. He was becoming increasingly aware that Seraphina was not quite so respected amongst their peers as he was. Before he could do anything more than stare Calahan down however, Bane called him into his office. Percival kicked out the leg of the chair Calahan was leaning on as he passed, hoping the yell that escaped the man was of pain as much as it was indignation.

“Yes sir?”

“Look Graves, I thought putting you with Picquery was going to be good for the pair of you - you’d get someone competent enough to back you up, she’d get some real life experience of what this job actually entails - but clearly it’s not working, so I’m going to split-“

“Respectfully sir, you’d be an idiot to split us up, and if you do, I’m handing in my badge,” Percival interrupted abruptly, working to keep himself calm at the notion that Bane had paired him with Seraphina because he thought the dangerous stuff Percival got himself into would scare her away. “The others aren’t good enough for her.”

“Graves, I need partners who can work together. You’ll both be so much better off with other-“

“No, I’ll be better off. She’ll be sent out of buy coffee. I don’t want a different partner, sir.”

“Listen rookie. You have a big future ahead of you, don’t let being partnered with a woman drag-“

“The only thing Seraphina drags down in this office is the level of sexist bullshit. She’s the best of us all, even better than me. I don’t want anyone else, I want her. And I tend to get what I want around here, sir.”

Bane surveyed him, as if tossing up whether it was worth the fuss, whether Percival would really drag Graves Senior into it just for this. Percival met his stare firmly, determined to make it clear he wasn’t joking around.

“Fine,” Bane relented, “but start getting along. And never suggest I’m somehow prejudice towards her again. I hired her, after all.”

“So noble of you, sir.” Sarcasm dripped from Percival’s words. “You also suggested she was dragging me down, so I take it you thought she would be doing O’Brien’s job?”

“If you have something to say Graves, I suggest you come out with it.”

“I just spent ten minutes of my life I will never get back listening to O’Brien and Calahan whine that their colleague unfairly burdens them by stopping them from scratching themselves, that they’d rather listen to a banshee than her, and that her only redeeming feature is that she’s nice to look at. You’ve just said she’s a danger to my career and that you thought she’d decide she wasn’t cut out for this job when she saw it in action. Everyone here is a fucking asshole! Seraphina has worked just as hard as the rest of us - harder even - and nobody respects her. You’re a sexist pig, and this office is a fucking pigsty. Sir.”

“The fuck do you want Graves?”

“You don’t look very sick.”

She looked upset, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. It just made Percival feel worse that he had absolutely contributed to an atmosphere where his partner didn’t feel welcome.

“I was sick of your bullshit, get off my stoop.”

“Look, I… I just came to apologise.”

“You can do that from the street,” Seraphina said simply.

Seraphina was stronger than Bane, yet their supervisor thought it was somehow okay to suggest she wouldn’t last?

“Promise you won’t close the door on me?”

“No.”

“Fair enough,” Percival muttered, stepping away from her door and back down to the street.

“That was the most obedient I’ve ever seen you Graves, you must actually be sorry,” Seraphina commented coolly.

“I am,” Percival assured her. “I didn’t realise how much shit you have to put up with just working in the office.”

He paused, but Seraphina just raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting him to continue.

“We’re… a disgusting group of boys, and I’ve played into that too. I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry. You’re a great auror, and I wouldn’t want anyone else as a partner. I told Bane as much when he suggested splitting us up today… then I told him he’s a sexist pig. He didn’t seem to think so, so I’m suspended but… it was worth it. You deserve better than the shit we give you.”

“Yes I do, especially from my partner, Percival. I was actually looking forward to working with you, because I knew it was more than just a cool job to you, that you’d actually take it seriously, and take me seriously… and you ended up being the biggest jerk of the lot.”

That was fair, he supposed. Percival liked to think he’d shown her a little more respect than his peers, but… to her, he’d probably come off as thinking he was superior.

“Still, you did get yourself suspended for me, and you were actually capable of removing your head from your ass as it turns out. I can appreciate that must have taken a great deal of effort. Are we split up?”

“Not this time,” Percival shrugged. “Might have to actually come through on the threat next time if it gets suggested again though.”

“Shame. I would have like to see O’Brien wet his pants when I sat down across from him. Next time, I suppose,” Seraphina smirked. “Why don’t you come in and make a cup of coffee, and you can tell me all the ways you’re going to change so that I feel respected?”

“Sounds fun,” Percival deadpanned. “I even have to make my own cup of coffee?”

“I’m not the tea lady, if you want it chewable as I have seen you make it, you’re making that monstrosity yourself.”

#fcntcsticmuses #v; something to prove #v; power and passion #drabbles

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silverynight · 7 years ago

Text

The story of the smitten alpha and the confused omega

Chapter 1

It’s been three hours since Newt set foot in New York for the second time in his life and he’s already in trouble.

At least Theseus is not here to watch him, he’d probably had an aneurysm just to see Newt standing in front of a hurt and very angry hippogriff.

He hasn’t had the time to attend to the creature, he just stunned two wizards that tried to kill him. They’re both alphas; they attempted to use the Voice on him, but Newt is -fortunately- not like most of omegas and has an overprotective brother that taught him how to resist an alpha’s command.

And Newt took advantage of their atonishment and stunned them both.

He turns around to face the hippogriff; the creature is clearly upset and is thinking about flying away through a window, judging by her unsteady and nervous movement of her wings. But the space is too small for her to fit and Newt knows she’d only end up more hurt than she already is.

Downstairs, Newt hears someone yelling that the ‘aurors are here’ and he feels a little bit relieved; at least they can take care of the traffickers while Newt tries to patch the hippogriff up.

Unless said aurors try to take the creature away in which Newt would have to think a way of escaping from them with the hippogriff.

Which is going to be a problem.

He hopes Tina’s among them so at least he doesn’t have to explain them he knows what he’s doing.

'You’d never get a good alpha with that attitude, my son,’ Newt bites his lip, remembering his mother’s words. She had always been so concerned about him not getting married, especially because she soon realized his son was far from what the British society would call a “proper omega.” However -and much to her concern- Newt had never been much interested in getting an alpha to court him.

Neither Theseus; he turned to be a very overprotective brother that contrary to what their mother used to think, was happy if Newt never got an alpha.

'Nobody deserves you, little one’ Theseus usually says to which Newt just rolls his eyes.

Despite of his overprotective nature, Newt likes his brother; he was the only alpha in his family that supported him when he announced he wanted to be a magizoologist.

Yes, he worries a lot and has a heart attack when Newt comes to visit him and tells him about his adventures, but he has never stopped him.

Newt has met alphas and has tried to chat with them, but as soon as he mentions his job they all frown at him in disapproval.

So he has decided to give up on that. He doesn’t need an alpha anyway.

The room is dark, but Newt doesn’t surrender to the temptation to use Lumos Maxima, the bright light would only startle the creature even more.

He hears footsteps and curses when the hippogriff does a distressed noise behind him; he knows is not very clever to turn his back on a upset creature, she could attack him at any moment, but he has no other choice.

The wizard that storms into the room is an alpha and despite the terrible light -and that he cannot see his face- Newt knows he’s an auror just by the way he stands. That man has received military training, just like Theseus.

“I need you to leave the room,” it’s an order, but at least the alpha has the decency to not use the Voice on him. He thinks he recognizes that voice though. “This creature is dang-”

Without thinking, Newt moves his own wand and takes away the auror’s one just with a quick spell.

The man freezes and since Newt still can’t see his face he’s not sure if it’s because he��s surprised or furious. Alphas don’t take very well when they’re defeated by omegas.

“She’s not dangerous, she’s just scared,” Newt corrects him. “Now please let me work. I know what I’m doing.”

A quick nod is his answer, or at least he hopes it is. He prays Merlin the auror is not just waiting for him to get distracted.

He turns to the hippogriff and takes a step closer to the creature; she does the same distressed noise than before, except that this time is a clear warning.

And then Newt notices; the wild, alpha’s scent -that’s something that reminds him the nature, the woods- changes. It becomes stronger, protective.

Except for his brother (and sometimes Tina), Newt has never experienced the protective nature of an alpha, especially directed towards him.

“You’re making her nervous,” Newt tells him. “She’s not going to hurt me. Trust me.”

“Sorry,” the alpha mumbles and Newt hears him taking a few steps back.

When the scent changes again, Newt is surprised to notice that the alpha actually believes him. He can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Newt whispers to the hippogriff. He takes another step forward, then stops, looking at her in the eye. He bends, not even blinking despite of her gruff approach.

Then, when she bows back, Newt relaxes enough to pet her.

He gets startled when the other wand in his hand flies away towards his true owner.

Wandless magic, it had never occurred to Newt that the wizard behind him could do such thing.

He only knows one person capable of doing that.

The alpha steps into the light and Newt feels horrified to find out that he has just disarmed Percival Graves, the real one.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Graves.” If his mother was alive, she would’ve scolded him for that.

“You were worried about her,” the alpha says, smiling. “However I need my wand to protect you two while you patch her up.”

Newt has so many questions, but startled by the sound of fight, he blurts out possibly the useless question that’s roaming in his mind: “How do you know it’s female?”

She is, but Newt is surprised that Graves knows too.

“You called her 'she’” the alpha explains. And he surprises Newt again because he’s not used to people actually paying attention to what he says. “You’re Theseus Scamander’s brother, am I right?”

“Yes,” he nods. Of course, the alpha is being nice to him because of his brother. “I’m Newt.”

“A pleasure to meet you… Newt.” He offers his hand but the magizoologist doesn’t have the time to shake it because of the two men that walk into the room.

Newt thinks about helping Graves, but it’s more than clear that the alpha doesn’t need any help.

Feeling oddly protected, Newt starts checking on the hippogriff. He starts whispering a few healing spells while he pets the creature.

“It’s okay, Clara. You’ll be much better in the morning,” he promises. He doesn’t even worry when he hears something hitting the floor.

“You named her,” Graves observes and Newt’s not surprised to see the other two men unconscious on the ground.

“I name all my creatures,” he says.

“Of course you do,” Graves smiles again, a gesture that reaches even his eyes.

Newt gets Clara in the case and returns just to see Graves staring at him.

The alpha closes his eyes, nostrils flared as he unconsciously leans forward. When he realizes what he’s doing, he stops, looking completely embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Newt. I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s a perfectly normal reaction,” he assures, trying to ease him. And it is, most of alphas do that when they meet an omega.

“No, it’s… disrespectful. I have never done that… I apologise for my-”

“I’m not angry, Mr. Graves,” Newt smiles and only then Graves seems to relax.

“Please, call me Percival.”

Newt agrees but is interrupted by the auror’s sudden reaction. He steps in front of him, shielding him from the entrance.

However, the people that walk inside are just aurors.

“Sir, are you-”

“Tina!” Newt’s so glad to see a familiar face that he jumps right into her arms.

“Oh for Mercy Lewis’ sake, what are you doing here?” She demands, but accepts the hug anyways.

“I didn’t know you were courting someone, Goldstein,” the Director comments, interrupting them.

Newt blushes at that; he once considered Tina as a potential mate, since she was the most respectful alpha he had ever met. But it was more than clear that the two of them didn’t feel anything more than friendship for each other.

“We’re just friends, Sir,” she says, glancing at her boss in a funny way.

Newt nods as they both step away.

“You know you have to accompany us to meet with Madam President…” The Director says and Newt panics for a moment.

“I could just go, you know?” He says. “Clara didn’t do anything and I-”

“We’re not going to take her away,” Percival swears. “I promise no harm will come to you or your creatures while I’m alive, Newt.”

Some of the aurors gasp at the words, but Newt is not paying much attention to them. He’s too grateful for that.

Coming from another alpha, that protectiveness would’ve seemed weird but Newt knows Percival’s doing it because he’s Theseus brother.

“Thank you,” he whispers in return.

***

“You won’t be needed this time, Goldstein,” Percival says and Newt already misses his friend when he walks in Picquery’s office.

“Queenie and I will be waiting for you at home,” she mumbles before fleeing from the room.

“Glad to see you again, Mr. Scamander,” the President smirks at him. Newt had been taught that the most intimidating wizards and witches were the alphas and for years he believed that.

Not anymore. Because Seraphina Picquery, a beta, is more intimidating than most of the alphas he has met.

“Me, too,” he mumbles, noticing Percival gaze on him.

“Well… tell me, what happened this time?”

Knowing it will do no good to start babbling, he tries to explain that he had come to visit his friends and begin writing his second book when upon arriving New York, he noticed a man walking towards a pub, carrying something in his pocket.

He managed to get the man to give him the egg (it was an occamy) and tell him all the information he knew about the hippogriff his companions had caught.

But then, when Newt reaches the part where he found the place the creature was being kept and his encounter with Percival… he hesitates.

“He disarmed me,” Percival continues for him, grinning. Newt tilts his head, trying to figure it out if that smile is genuine or if it’s a way to hide his irritation; most of alphas hate to admit defeat.

Picquery rolls her eyes at the Director.

“Now that is pretty much obvious, Percival,” she tries to suppress a chuckle. “But I was talking about the case…”

Then she laughs while Percival glares at her and Newt is not sure if they’re still on the same topic anymore.

“Very funny, Sera…” He growls.

Newt looks from one to another and when the President notices she does a gesture with her hand.

“Sorry, Mr. Scamander, please continue…”

He does, pretending nothing happened, feeling a little more confident when he talks about Clara and how well the healing spells worked on her.

“Well… it was not that bad,” Picquery says. “Just be careful next time, Mr. Scamander. You are dismissed.”

Not quite believing his luck, Newt thanks them both and is ready to run when Percival’s words stop him.

“You have a place to stay, Newt?” Percival takes a step closer. “You could stay at mine. My house is…”

He interrupts himself, probably figuring out how that sounds. Even Newt knows when a single alpha that lives alone offers an omega his home has a completely different meaning.

Although Newt knows he doesn’t mean anything by it; he’s just probably being kind because his Theseus’ friend.

“You’re moving too fast, don’t you think, Percival?” Picquery comments, however it looks like she’s just having fun.

“I’m sorry, Newt. I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna stay with Tina and Queenie.”

“Oh… great. Well… I’ve heard them say they cannot apparate there because there are many no-majes living in that building.”

“Yes, but it’s-”

“I can walk you there.”

“It’s not necessary, I already know the way, besides, it’s not far from here,” Newt points out.

“I’m aware you know the way,” Percival comments, rolling his eyes, although he looks amused.

“Then why you want to walk me there?”

Picquery snorts and Newt notices that she’s covering her mouth.

“To keep you company,” Percival says simply and Newt’s still not sure what to make of his attitude. “And to talk about Clara, of course. I’d love to know how you got her to trust you.”

“Okay!” He agrees immediately this time; he likes to talk about his creatures and Percival has proved to be really interested in what he has to say.

#gramander #the story of the smitten alpha and the confused omega

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eponymous-rose · 8 years ago

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Talks Machina Highlights: Critical Role Episode 115

Guests are Taliesin Jaffe, Matt Mercer, Sam Riegel, and Liam O’Brien. Full video on Project Alpha!

Issue #2 of the comic comes out tomorrow, October 18!

The first part of Taliesin’s multi-part (vampire) game airs this Thursday. Other upcoming highlights: Laura Bailey as DM, level 20 battle royale.

Name of the show is not changing for the new campaign. Well, it might become Colville’s Corner.

Art books are coming out on November 9! Deluxe version is $124.99, standard version is $59.99. Taliesin: “The notion of the book is these are archived collections that were built by the Cobalt Reserve, so the perspective of the book is very much in-universe.” Alpha members get 10% off.

Last d20 rolls: Vex: 4, Vax: 16, Keyleth: 12, Percy: 1, Scanlan: 6, Pike: 20, Grog: 20.

Everyone’s been bursting into tears checking their twitter feeds.

Re: Scanlan’s Wish: Matt would have allowed some possible wiggle room for Vax’s fate before the pact was complete, but the words would’ve been twisted. “But I don’t even know what that [wiggle room] would look like.” The real opportunity would’ve been before the pact was sealed.

Liam desperately wanted Vax to have a happy ending (retirement as Keyleth’s right hand in Zephrah), but realized that the chances of that happening were next to impossible.

The first time Vax died, Matt brought up the Revenant as a possibility. Matt: “True Resurrection as a spell is the antithesis to what the Raven Queen represents.” At that time, Liam knew Vax would still come back if it was possible. After the Disintegrate spell, Matt mentioned that the Raven Queen wouldn’t take kindly to Vax waiting to be resurrected by his friends again, which was what tipped the balance for Liam.

Sam’s Wish: If the fight ended and we won and there’s no sign of the Raven Queen in that next few seconds, he was first going to try and stall by Wishing that the Raven Queen couldn’t sense Vecna’s death, which would buy enough time to go to another god for a fair negotiation. Matt: “That would’ve gone in a very interesting direction.” Liam: “Vax would never have gone along with that.” The other option was, if the Raven Queen just showed up, he was going to Wish for some sort of delaying factor, delaying until the end of Keyleth’s natural life, or delaying until the end of his natural life. Matt: “What happens if Keyleth starts getting unnaturally sick and her lifetime’s much shorter?” Adjustments to the deal without outright erasing it might’ve allowed a buffer.

Jason Charles Miller is going to be making original music for Talks Machina for the new campaign.

Taliesin hadn’t really thought his plan through, and suddenly he had to come up with a plan B when it obviously wasn’t going to work. He had no idea how to deal with Percy as a character at that point, but he remembered that the short story he’d originally written about the character had been about a clockmaker. After five years, he realized in a panic how to “fix this character”: just having that moment of realizing how badly he missed his family. Matt was really strongly affected by that moment and had to try to keep it together to stay in the moment.

Kit Buss’s first art piece ever made for CR features a raven on Matt’s shoulder. Liam: “Ravens focus tested well.” Brian: “Don’t you think if we did focus testing, someone should’ve said for episode one there should’ve been lights on?”

Sam: “I think I only really recently started to take [the game] seriously? It’s so fun to play! I just realized that!” Sam let Liam pick his race and class last time, and he had him do the same thing for the next campaign.

Matt wanted Vax to have the chance to see a bit of the fruits of his labors with the rest of the group before the Raven Queen arrived.

Initially, when he had plotted out the encounter, Matt was expecting the party to arrive after Vasselheim had been destroyed. It was Vax’s Revenant abilities that made the difference. Liam: “It’s basically what he asked for 70 episodes before. I feel like I’ve just been playing the longest and most painful ‘Yes, and...’ for a year. It felt like the honest choice.”

Percy was going to sell his soul to the devil to find a way to get Vax back, preferably with nobody else noticing. He’d still get to live out his life, but his soul would be forfeit by the end of it. Matt points out that once a contract like that comes into play, events will tend to conspire to speed that death. To Percy, it was more about a fuck-you to the Raven Queen.

Matt had a whole speech for the Raven Queen about how insignificant everyone was in the face of the god of death if they’d tried to argue.

A theory that become canon: Lionel was a duck polymorphed into a half-orc.

Velora wants to be more like her older sister and the stories she hears now of her older brother, and it’s changed Syldor’s perspective on a lot of elements of Syngornian culture. Gilmore is doing quite well, is loosely franchising, he’s rebuilt the Westruun store, possibly expanded into Whitestone and abroad, visits his parents now. He’s mostly handed off the store in Emon and Sherri’s taking over while he indulges a little wanderlust. Allura’s still a key figure on the Council of Tal’Dorei, a voice of reason. Kima's original home was in Westruun, so she and Allura have a home there now. In the second game they ever played, the party went to a temple of Bahamut in Westruun and there was a reference to Kima being away. The players’ decisions and priorities really decided which characters became more important.

Sam had no idea Pike reciprocated Scanlan’s feelings.

Sam to Liam: Scanlan’s advice to Vax all those episodes ago was to leave the shit behind, and he left the S.H.I.T.s behind. “NOW CRY AGAIN.” Liam: “I will!”

Taliesin: “If I couldn’t figure out a way to resolve the character, I would’ve just burned him down.”

Scanlan Shortfoot.

Talks Machina: After Dark

Sam’s prewritten ending for Tary was a short-term letter for VM to receive days or weeks after the fight. He had nothing planned for the long-term stuff. He’s going to tweet the letter at some point. The biggest difference: in Sam’s version, Doty 3 died and Doty 4 was just an arm, an eye, and a tricycle, because Tary was broke at that point.

Gilmore has mourned Vax in his own way and has probably visited Keyleth to talk about him. He’s probably made a line of raven-related small items in his name. Gilmore thinks back on all of VM fondly and was honored to be part of that story.

Voiceover fancast: Courtenay Taylor as Kima, Mark Hamill as Vecna.

Victor survived. One of the big explosions near the Braving Grounds was his cache of blackpowder. Liam: “His head and arm are also now on a tricycle.” Victor would’ve blown his place up on purpose to take out the acolytes of Vecna.

Matt very much still has the Golden Snitch. Liam: “Give the ring back to Sauron, why don’t you?” Taliesin: “I got something out of the deal.” Sam finally knows what the Golden Snitch is a reference to, since he’s reading Harry Potter for the first time.

There’s only one name that Laura and Taliesin have agreed on for one of Vex and Percy’s kids: Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo IV.

Vax’s afterlife has been left vague on purpose, and Matt also wanted to leave some things with the epilogues open-ended in case elements of it came up later. Taliesin brings up the Kubrick quote: “Ghosts are the death of tension.”

Biggest fears with new characters: Sam is worried about falling into the same patterns or behaviors he became accustomed to (same personality, playing style, etc.). Liam is terrified/excited because this is the most amazing thing they’ve done over five years, how could they top it? Taliesin is terrified by all the weird accents they’re going to be trying. Matt: “Everyone’s Welsh.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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stella-carrington · 7 years ago

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Nervous

A / N: I'm really sorry, I've been super busy and sick, it's not one of my best writings but it has my heart, thanks to @wyattschreave @hazelschreave @glimmer-starr @brifitzgerald @ahmaraquill Sorry for not put all the interviews but it was very hard for me to do that at this time.

Word count: 2329

I had arrived late ... Despite everything Lady Lorelai couldn't be seen anywhere in the room, the girls talked and a slight murmured filled the room, I also realized that we were only Ahmara, Glimmer, Brianna and I, clearly something was happening and I had no idea about what it was.

I walked with determined steps and sat on a small sofa, I had no desire to talk so I settled into the seat and took a breath, a small feeling of anxiety began to grow in me, I wanted to know what was about to happen.

Prince Wyatt came into the room with a folder in his hands and looked at all the presents in the room and a lot of my doubts were solved in that small moment, I had completely forgotten the simulation of the interviews "So, I'm Wyatt, you all know that or at least I hope you do. " It took a breath of air "I learned your names in advance to skip over introductions and get to it, I hope you do not mind Let's begin with something simple, shall we?" He picked up the folder so that we could all see it "In here I have information on you guys The type of things you should expect from the media If I have people that can find this information, newspapers and magazines will not fall short. I apologize if I bring up something that makes you uncomfortable ... but sadly, these are the question you could get at any moment Random interview, at a ball, or even once you're outside of these walls and the media frenzy of being eleven a Selected sticks with you.You need to be ready. "

When Wyatt finished speaking my feelings gave a great change and I felt confident, all my life had been about that, from the cradle I was destined to it and from the cradle I had been prepared.

"Sure thing, cutie!" Glimmer said.

Wyatt looked at Glimmer and cleared his throat "Right ..."

I turned my face when I heard Princess Hazel come in, she stepped aside from Wyatt and scrutinized us with her gaze.

"I thought you were sticking with Layla," Wyatt addressed Hazel.

"I'm just here to study your method of teaching"

He rolled his eyes when Hazel finished talking "Anyway, you'll get a question from me." He approached Brianna and positioned himself in front of her "You'll go first." He turned around to address us "When it's not your turn, I want to pay close attention to the reaction of the person getting the question. end. " He went back to Brianna "When you get asked stuff like this, there are people who are watching and pay attention. You have to be aware of that. just like Layla was in our demonstration. "

Brianna nodded carefully "Yes, I am ready."

"well she’s stiff." Glimmer murmured to me that he was beside me.

I felt slightly indignant when I listened to her

"Pffff Do you have something good to say?" I frowned, shook my head to fix my attention on Brianna and completely ignored Glimmer.

"Whatever" Glimmer said and I noticed how he rolled his eyes.

Wyatt fixed his eyes on the folder, fell silent for a few seconds and then looked up at Brianna. He spoke like a reporter, "Lady Brianna, from Allens, right? Have you ever heard of Officer Evan?"

When I saw how Brianna opened her eyes, surprised and smiled in a false way, I knew that Wyatt had giveN in the correct point "I heard from him, I am a friend of my family.

Wyatt tilted his head "You must've heard the rumors then ... do you know who it might be? The girl he's in from your town?" He approached Brianna and spoke as if it were a secret "Many people have talked about it How do you have second doubts Do you have anything to say in his defense?"

"Oooohhhhhhh drama" whispered Glimmer

Brianna looked down, took a deep breath, and looked back at Wyatt with a frown, her nerves visible. "I am not aware of the lives of others, but I hope that the girl loves her."

"But you are family friends, right? You must know he's engaged? What will happen to his fiancée?" Wyatt spoke like a real interviewer trying to push Brianna to a bad point.

I sighed carefully "I think she did well ..." I whispered to myself

Glimmer chuckled "sounds like she's having an affair and ruining a happy engagement"

Support my hands on my face "this is too ... uncomfortable"

Brianna ran her hands over her skirt, gulped and took a deep breath "From what I know of him, I am an honest and serious person in spite of everything. an important decision, but for something he chose her and nobody else. "

Wyatt nodded and brushed aside his reporter persona "Good way to end it, Calm and collected." She addressed us "Pulling out to make a point in your favor is a smart move" she looked at Brianna over her shoulder "and what you said makes you seem understanding of the situation." He joined the circle "Now, can someone point out what she did wrong?"

And as expected, Glimmer raised his hand with a sly smile

"... yes Glimmer"

"She started off stiff, she fumbled with her words, she did not straight forward deny the rumor that it was her implied, she added to that possibility that it could be her by first saying he had spoken to her when that was Not even asked of her ... You only asked if she knew that he was. Hearing sweetie. him to keep talking with her. Oh! Also she fidgeted with her skirt which makes her seem nervous like she has something to hide. "

Wyatt raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat "Well ..."

As much as I would have liked to restrain myself, my impulse was greater, I looked at Glimmer and spoke clearly "criticize is very easy for you?"

"Just makes me a better person." "We're our own worst critic after all." Must be so mean to myself. "

"Uhhhh" reach out to hear Wyatt whisper.

Hazel took the lead "Glimmer is not wrong about her first observations. Though ... maybe saying it with a little less enthusiasm would help." You need to pay close attention to what the reporter is asking. curve ball to see how you react. If you so much as flinch they'll know where to push. "

Wyatt nodded and confronted Brianna "Since the moment I asked you the question, you're eyes widened. If someone had been taking a picture of the conversation without you knowing, it would've been used against you."

Glimmer smiled victoriously and I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Get used to smiling a bit whenever a question is just made That way you give yourself time to process the question, but do not react in a negatively."

Brianna nodded attentively "Alright, I will have that in mind for future ocassions"

He nodded "Sorry again if implied something that was not true." Wyatt turned around and addressed my "You're up next"

I nodded "okay, let's start" I smiled sideways with full confidence.

As with Brianna Wyatt, she stepped in front of me, opened her folder, read it, closed it and spoke "You're one of the Selected that's had a well-known love life before this, Lady Stella."

"oh yes, it's something no one can deny" I laughed a little as I was more than aware where it was going.

"The young voice and growing actor." What many fans were sad to find out and you broke up and there was no real word from you two about it .... "

"Well, I think it was a big surprise and something difficult to face for many, but nothing is forever things I tend to have an end, I am also aware that many are interested or were interested in the subject but Ian and I respect each other's private lives, that is one of the great reasons why we prefer to be discreet almost always "I said calmly while maintaining eye contact with Wyatt.

"Things tend to have an end?" Wyatt feigned surprise and approached me in a clear attempt to make me uncomfortable. "So you were just having a fling for however long it could last? Is that what you're planning with Prince Ben?" I frown "Is it true you only dated Ian because of his fame? Is this why did you decide to join the Selection?" * whistles * "Stella Carrington the Heartbreaker"

Wyatt had transgressed my words in an impressive way, he did it in such a real way that even for a moment I felt like it was a real interview.

"C'mon Stella, you got this" I heard Brianna whisper behind me and I was a little relieved to receive her support.

"Bet its true" Glimmer said momentarily ruining the tranquility Brianna gave me.

"That I say that things have an end that does not mean that it was a fling" I smiled calmly "if things happen with Ben they will also have an end but it will be a long term ending as it is said in marriages" until dead do us apart "" shake my head keeping my composure "I did not date Ian for his fame, I consider myself a person with a solid moral solidity, and fame despite being part of my life is not the most important thing so I wouldn 't be able to sacrifice my feelings for fame and finally I'm not in the selection for fame I'm here to try new things, have fun and learn, to be someone renewed. "

The whispers were present throughout the room

"She did not get it" I heard Glimmer whisper

"She did not get what," whispered Princess Hazel to Glimmer

"Brianna was saying Stella slayed it, I'm saying she was not perfect."

"Oh ... um--" Hazel said.

"Did you hear her words? I think that she answered as perfectly as could be answered, I'm not sorry." I smiled happily at Brianna's words.

"She was too haughty talking about death do us part People could percive it as her being overly confident." I rolled my eyes when I heard Glimmer, I could not believe what he was saying

"Stella answered her question about Ben, but it's okay if you do not understand what she meant. Not everybody can." Brianna responded magnificently to Glimmer.

"I did not understand what it was about, it makes her sound like she's already won the thing." I frowned as I listened to Glimmer.

"She did not say that she has already won, she only said that because he asked her about" what if ...? "Please, stop"

"I'm just trying to help with even minor comments that can lead to problems. If you do not like my feedback, feel free to sound like a fool when you're actually interviewed."

Help ?, That nor I was able to believe it, somehow I began to bother his attitude, his need to criticize everything.

"No, it's okay if you have feedback. Just give constructive feedback, which you have not."

"Alright, you did wonderful Stella, I would just suggest avoiding being cocky next time.

I decided not to say anything, I was not in the mood, Glimmer was behaving like a little capricious girl bothered by not being right and I had not come down to his level.

Hazel cleared her throat "Hold your horses now, This is not a cat fight, Commentary should be objective." Hazel looked at Brianna "but making an argument longer than it should be a good idea in public." I speak and this time I look at Glimmer "Confidence is not always bad, and she implied" if "things happened with Ben.It was not a bad way to start."

"But there can be a couple of improvements for sure." Now Wyatt turned to my "When you refused dating, Ian for his fame and explained why, you smiled. You do not seem angry, which is great, but showing some sort of concern about the implication would make it better" to exemplify What he said, he frowned a little, "See? It seems weird if you're always smiling." There's a balance depending on what you say. "

Listen carefully to Wyatt's recommendations "I understand, I smiled because it was something I wanted to do, I smiled for me and not for the camera, obviously I'll keep it in mind" I assent giving him the reason.

Wyatt really and now approached Glimmer "Alright Glimmer, your time to shine."

"Thank you, Looking forward to it." Glimmer said with a smile

He looked at Glimmer "I'm so sure." Wyatt positioned the folder under his arm but it got complicated "Stupid sprain ..." he said no more and focused his attention on Glimmer "There has been rumors about your Report dress, Lady Glimmer." Knock off Dior? great beuty icon, many of your fans have been disappointed! "

really? I asked myself, I was not willing to hear such irrelevance, so if I step back and concentrate on everything but the interviews.

"It was not bad, but technically, you did, that goes for all of you, however." He took a step back and looked at us "There's things to improve." You were obviously going to show some mistakes along the way. I look at Glimmer before continuing "Some have more experience at this than other But I've pointed out what I saw You know what to watch out for now Keep it mind." Wyatt left the small circle "If you wish, you can stay here and practice between yourselves a bit more." Trash talk each other and force yourselves to keep a smile on, or think of scenarios where you would have to keep your reactions in check Either way, it's your choice, your free to go back to your room if you want. "

I didn't need to listen anymore, I left the room in the direction of my room without saying any word as if I was a ghost.

#stella carrington #Challenge Three

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msjr0119 · 6 years ago

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Hold On

Part 10- I remember

Nobody got injured at the Homecoming ball, they all get separated into different safe houses- for safety.

Riley and Drake had confirmed that they had feelings for each other, however Drake believed Riley should be with Liam. Heartbroken, she moves back to New York. Only keeping in touch with Hana, Maxwell and Olivia.

Riley meets lawyer, Nate Cooper and begins a relationship with him. In Cordonia, Drake begins to court Kiara.

Nine months after Riley had left Cordonia- there is a reunion, but not the reunion the friends had hoped for.

*Characters belong to Pixelberry*

If you are under 18 please do not read this series. If you do, you are consenting that you are over the age.

Series warnings: Suicide, domestic abuse, swearing, stabbing, smut 🍋 If any of these triggers affect you do not read!

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @kingliam2019 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @drakewalker04 @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @choices97

LOTS AND LOTS OF DIALOGUE IN THIS PART.... SORRY NOT SORRY

******

“M-Max?”

“Riley?”

“Riley, it’s really you! You’re awake! I’m so happy to see your sparkly eyes open, blossom.”

“Where... what....”

“Hold that thought Ri. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t go.... please... help”

“Ri, I’ll be literally a second. I need to find someone. Then I’m all yours. Not literally. Oh you know what I mean...”

Maxwell ran out of the room, searching for the nurse, searching for anyone! He ran into Bertrand and knocked the coffees over- the hot liquid nearly scolding his brother.

“Maxwell Percival Beaumont! Do you know how much hassle it has taken me to get these?”

“Sorry B, she’s awake... she’s awake....go to her. She sounds confused. I’ll get the doctor or nurse...”

Bertrand abandoned the coffee and ran into the room. Not really thinking about the safety and possibility of people slipping on puddle of the milky liquid. Riley looked anxious- tears were running down her cheek. She couldn’t move- she was feeling numb.

“Lady Riley! You’re awake. I’m so happy you’ve come back to us.”

Riley didn’t respond, instead Bertrand noticed her eyes roaming the room- tears now uncontrollably falling down her face. Her chest rapidly rising up and down. Maxwell returned with the nurse and Doctor.

“Miss Brooks, my name is Dr Hutchinson. I am so glad you are awake. Do you know where you are?”

“Uh... the hospital?”

“Correct. Do you remember why?”

“The Hudson... I... I jumped.... I panicked... I changed my mind... I.... “

Then men looked at each other. They were grateful for whoever saved their sister’s life. She regretted it. She had changed her mind. The Doctor interrupted her, she didn’t have to elaborate on the answer. She remembered the jump, she remembered the river. No other information was required at this time.

“Very good Miss Brooks. You’re memory is still there which is a good sign. Are you in any pain?”

Riley shook her head, she was just blinded by all the bright lights shining in her face.

“We will keep you in for a couple of days. Continuously check your observations. Then we will consider discharging you. Do you have any questions?”

“I... I have no.. nowhere to go.”

“Blossom! You have your home in Cordonia. With us. You’re our sister. We will look after you...”

Riley avoided the question- looking at both men with sorrow in her eyes. She reverted her gaze towards the doctor- worry in her ocean blues.

“Where’s... Where’s Nate?”

Nate is she fucking serious?

“Mr Cooper, has been held in custody Miss Brooks. You don’t have to worry about him. Our main priority is your health and your recovery. You will also be required to speak to the police at some point. But we will delay that for as long as possible. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. I will leave you to rest. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call us for assistance.”

Riley forced a smile and nodded- thoughts still lingering about what to do once she was discharged. The brothers thanked the staff as they exited the room. Both turned smiling at their sister impersonating the Cheshire Cat.

“So... are you coming back with us? We will look after you blossom...”

“I agree Lady Riley. You are part of our house. I will do everything in my power to look after you. I promise.”

“Guys... I can’t come back. This ... this is my home... “

“Ri, everyone at your real home has been here. Waiting for you to wake up. Liv even nearly physically killed Nate.”

“WHAT?”

Riley’s blood pressure, began to rise. Maxwell and his stupid mouth.

“Don’t worry- she only broke his nose.”

“What the fuck Max? Why would she do that?”

“Lady Riley, you know why! Please calm down.”

Bertrand insisted. She had only just woken up. She had already had a heart attack due to the stress of jumping in the river. He didn’t want a repetition of that.

“He’s going to kill me.”

“No. No he’s not. And I don’t think Liv would allow him anywhere near you anyway. She scared the shit out of him. He’s going to jail for all the hurt he caused you and Leo. You have people who care for you and love you in Cordonia. We’ve all been here. Even Drake and Liam.”

Hearing their names, broke Riley’s heart. The two men that loved her but also let her go were here- when she needed people to support her. Hearing what Olivia had done, made Riley regret leaving her best friend- Liv obviously cared a lot about her to do that.

“Please don’t mention Drake and Liam again Max.”

“Ri, they both love you. Liam has been a wreck. Ever since he found out he hasn’t left your side. He has even been brushing your hair. I don’t think I could do as much of a good job but I’ll try.”

“Why would he brush my hair? In fact don’t bother answering that. What about Drake? Kiara?”

The brothers both looked at each other. They felt the need to tell her truth, before she found out from someone else- someone else who would cause another shitstorm.

“Drake knows the truth about you know what, he’s heartbroken. He’s blaming himself for everything. And Kiara wasn’t here. Everyone but Kiara, Penny, Maddy, Neville, Rashad and Tariq were here. Even Bianca Walker was here. Although she was only really babysitting Bartie.”

Bertrand nodded, in agreement with Maxwell. She needed to know exactly who was there for her in her time of need.

“Yes. We all love you Lady Riley. You belong with us.”

“I... I can’t give you an answer right now. I’m sorry. I think I should try and rest.”

******

The Brothers watched Riley slowly fall asleep again. Maxwell became the protective brother- checking that she was still breathing. Petrified that she wouldn’t wake up. They had promised to contact everyone in Cordonia with any updates. However, with Riley not fully committing to coming back as of yet, they was unsure whether to do it this soon.

“Max, I promised our King I would let him know. Obviously she doesn’t need stress, and with them all coming back that would cause more stress. But if we let him know and tell him that we will bring her back the minute she is discharged he may stay there?”

“B, he is in love with her. He will come no matter what we say. And we can’t force her back. She seems to not want to come back. Maybe it’s all the drugs she’s on- she’s not thinking straight. I’ll call him.”

*****

Liam was focusing on catching up on paperwork in his study. Doing something, anything to try and keep his worried mind off Riley. Bastien knocked on the door, hesitating whilst opening it quietly.

“Sir, Lord Maxwell is on the phone.”

Liam snatched the phone off his guard, panicking, thinking that it was bad news. He had a lump form in his throat before answering.

“Max? Any news?”

“Hey Li, well you know the typical fairytale where a Prince kisses a Princess and she wakes up blah blah...Well they should really rewrite that scenario. Because this time it was a Lord who miraculously awoke the Princess up.”

“Max, shut up with the riddles. This is serious. What’s going off?”

“I just told you, Liam. I kissed her on the cheek. Then bam- she woke up.”

“Oh...She’s.... she’s awake?”

“Yeah, she was a bit confused. But yeah, now she’s talking a bit better. Had a bit of a panic attack when I told her about what Liv had done..her blood pressure shot through the roof....”

“Max I’m coming now! Hang up.”

“Li, wait! Don’t come just yet. The Doctor said she doesn’t need anymore stress. When... when we mentioned you being here with everyone and Drake she didn’t want to know. She’s just in shock, I assume? She’s fallen back to sleep now- don’t worry I’ve been checking that she’s breathing. They are discharging her in a couple of days- we will return with her. I can ask her to ring you if you want?”

“I suppose so. Tell her I’m thinking about her.”

“Will do buddy.”

Liam’s heart sunk, knowing that she had woken up once they’d all left. He knew he could trust the Beaumont’s- he just wished he was there beside her.

*****

Riley woke up a few hours later. She explained to the men that she was feeling much better- considering what her body had been through.

“Hey Ri, Liam says he’s thinking about you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. He still loves you to bits.”

“Could’ve fooled me... and don’t even say what you are going to say next Max.”

“Why what was I going to say?”

Riley’s eyebrows rose up. Even in her situation, Riley believed she wasn’t stupid. She could usually read Max like an open book.

“You was then going to mention something about Drake.”

“No actually.. For once Riley you were wrong. I was going to ask if you wanted to speak to Liam. He’s been worried sick about you. If you don’t want to that’s fine.”

“Sorry, I just assumed with you telling me that Drake knew about the baby ... I just assumed you was going to mention him. Pass me your phone then... dial his Majesty’s number.”

Maxwell looked at Riley in utter shock. He did not expect her to want to talk to Liam- especially when she asked him not to mention his name before. Riley couldn’t hold a grudge against him for how he treat her- she now realised that life was too short to do that. Deep down she did still love him. Unlike Drake, Liam was thinking about her safety and his country- where as Drake was just thinking with his dick.

*****

“Max? Is everything alright?”

“Hey....”

“Ri?”

Riley paused, not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to say anything. She didn’t want Liam to worry- she cared about him still considering the past circumstances. In a way, she felt guilty dragging him away from his King duties due to her selfish actions. Feeling this way, made her think she owed him an explanation at the very least.

“Ri? Are you there?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m just... I’m just a bit tired- all these drugs are making me feel sleepy. Thank you by the way.”

“What for?”

“I heard that you’d make a fantastic hairdresser.”

“Heh.. well I didn’t want you waking up with tangled hair. Don’t get me wrong, you’d still be beautiful with tangled hair... it’s so good to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Thank you for being there for me.”

Liam smiled for the first time in days. Relieved that she was finally awake- his heart couldn’t take anymore strain. Talking that way to him made his heart beat faster. Tears sprung from his eyes, he was so happy that she decided to call him.

“You gave us all a scare. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry Liam. I don’t know what I was thinking.... the minute I jumped.... I panicked. I shouted for help. I saw two men jump, then it was all a blur. I woke up... I’m sure Maxwell kissed me.”

“Don’t apologise, please. You don’t need to. And that he did. He obviously has the magic touch, as you didn’t respond to my kiss...”

“You... you kissed me?”

“I’m sorry Riley. It was just natural instinct. Every time I held your hand I kissed it... hoping that you would wake up. You decided to wake up the minute we all left you, you know.”

“You don’t need to apologise. Maybe Max should have kissed me before huh? I’m going to hang up. It’s been nice catching up Li. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Never too busy for you. I’ve been worried about you. I miss you- I know I said it before. But I truly do.”

“Still a charmer I see, your Majesty.”

“Only for certain people Ri. Are you going to visit us? Come back? If not, I can visit you? It devastated me, thinking we’d lost you. You’re my friend Riley, I love you.”

“I don’t know Liam. I’m sorry, I was stupid. I was depressed- it’s not easy to admit that. I was a coward. I’m going to go. Love ya too. Talk soon.”

Riley hung up. She felt like she could have continued talking to him, but she decided to hang up. Why? He still loves me.. I still love him.. I should have never got involved with Drake or Nate.

Liam had mixed emotions after the phone call with Riley. Happiness, relief, sadness. He knew she said “love ya too” in a friendly way- he wished it was more as a friend. He realised that he didn’t deserve her forgiveness. I love you more Riley.

#theroyalromance #bertrand beaumont #choices trr #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #riley brooks #kingliam #liam x mc #liam x riley

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dannissa13 · 7 years ago

Text

Shut up and drive

Here is the version for reading on Tumblr. Enjoy.

Things change and life goes by but sometimes meeting the right person can turn everything upside down. Rich boy and his driver find each other and shenanigans ensue. Love, sex, drugs, drag queens and one crazy aunt are on our heroes path. Will they? Yes! Won’t they? Maybe.

He was never a person to hate his job, nothing was able to break his spirit, not even years of police academy training and that subsequent gross termination from the force, huge drug scandal he had gotten himself into like a complete moron. But shit just kept getting weirder and weirder as years went by. And as far as he knew this one promised to be the most difficult and shitty of all. Driving some wealthy prick around who’s barely legal to drive himself, and probably getting him outta trouble over and over again. Promised payment was good though, the first time in forever he’d have extra money after paying for everything and living on a budget won’t be a problem anymore. Is it worth all the trouble in the end - he’ll see.

He cursed his mother’s “exquisite” taste not once or twice in his life, both adult and not because when it came to picking a name for him she really pulled a good one on everybody. Choosing the fancy “Percival” over hundreds of others, she might have been blinded by vanity or trying too much to look like a rich lady but ended up screwing said Percival’s childhood in a big way. He didn’t blame her, not in the slightest. People have whims, and Mum was always drawn to extravagance. He sighed. All this recalling of the past didn’t help his cause, especially not today, on his first day of a new job. He had a few before, random and scattered in amounts of income and trouble he had to go through to complete given tasks but this type of thing was entirely new. After getting kicked out of the police, when he was still young and ambitious, trying to do the right thing, speak up in the situation he then deemed wrong, life gave him not even lemons, it gave him nothing. So, after piecing together what’s had left of his dignity he went on to do anything to keep himself afloat.

And now he’s supposed to just sit here, smoking, even though the new contract specifically forbids him from doing so in client’s car, waiting for said silver spoon fed, spoiled, rich kid, he read so much about in spare time before work started. Heir to the richest family in this goddamn city, lucky little bastard, had his fair share of fun in early days, before the “tragic and sudden death” of his parents, “poor thing, orphaned at such a young age”. Newspapers were full of ripe headlines when that happened, pouring more and more pointless condolences towards the kid and his new caregiver, boy’s aunt, a conservative politician with two daughters of her own. Now a senator, the woman held everyone in an iron fist, especially her children, but the rotten brat was still kicking, fits of his “heroic” benders almost a stuff of legends. That’s why Percy was here - not really a bodyguard, but close. Legally bound from actually disclosing true nature of his work to the client but obligated to take care of him and make sure “no one gets into trouble”. They’ve hired a wrong guy for this. Percy grinned. This is going to be interesting.

The mansion he had parked next to was glorious, all marble, columns, and statues, ivory colored facade with huge windows, in some overly fancy style the name of which he could never remember, with gargantuan wooden front doors adorned in ornate metalwork, polished so well you could see yourself in it. The definition of luxury, over-the-top wealth, and a bit tacky for his own taste. Something more modern would look so much better. There was more to estate than just the main building - opulent looking glass arboretum full of exotic flowers, a pool, the size of a small lake, servant’s shed, guest house, a parking garage, tennis court, and a huge field of perfectly manicured grass lawn, surrounded by high hedge fence, enclosed in a real, stone fence, with gates, guards, dogs and cameras. What did he get himself into this time around?

Last drag of the cigarette burned tips of his fingers and next one was in his mouth even before he could consciously think about pulling it out of the pack. Waiting sucked, chainsmoking was bad for him, but so was the unbearable boredom of simply sitting on his ass and Percy knew so much more of this would come later. The first thing he’ll buy gonna be a smartphone, maybe even the fancy one. Finally, something good will come from working for rich assholes.

Huge doors of the mansion flew open with a bang that startled birds on all of the surrounding trees and made Percy jump a little. With that noise came others, even less pleasant sounds - people were loudly and angrily fighting on a subject matter that wasn’t new at all for both of them. Yelling insults at each other, two voices Graves couldn’t identify were getting louder and a fight was coming to an end. With triumphant “Leave me the fuck alone and get the fuck out of my business!” tall and slim figure, dressed in all black slammed the doors shut and marched towards the car with a focused determination of a very pissed off person.

After taking a closer look of the cloud of black angry angst heading his direction, Percy realized that he got royally screwed over - this was his client and now he was supposed to deal with an attitude like that. This better pay off, because Lord above know Graves needs a stable job now more than ever, but if this little shit would try something like that with him, Percival definitely can’t guarantee politeness and flexibility around problems. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

When only a few steps separated them boy stopped, still not looking at Graves, sighed deeply and then, like a magic trick, untensed and unfurled, like dropping an act or changing a mask. This sudden metamorphosis was a bit creepy, to say the least, but seemed genuine, like something he was doing not for the first time. A new smile lights up the young fresh face and shining eyes were on Percy, studying him up and down. After waiving his hand lightly kid greeted him

- “Hi. You must be my new driver, right?”

- “Hello. Yes, I think I am exactly that.”

- “I’m so terribly sorry for what you just had to witness. My aunt and I have way too different points of view and our outlooks on life certainly collide from time to time. I promise you I’m way more well mannered with people who I don’t personally disdain.”

- “Okay, I’ll remember to not get on your bad side then.”

- “And we’ll have a grand ole time. Speaking of manners, I’ve completely forgotten mine. I’m Credence, Credence Barebone, nice to meet you. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking - what in the hell kind of name is that. Truth is, my parents were not only rich but also weird. I know, right, eccentric wealthy people calling their spawn an unusual name. Who calls their child something so bizarre in the twenty-first century, ha?”

- “You are not the only one wondering about that. Percival Graves at your service.”

He did a joke curtsy, flourish and a bow. The young man chuckled.

- “Nice to meet you, Mister Graves. We’ll definitely find a common ground, with names like that.”

- “Just Percival, please. I don’t really like being a “Mister”, makes me think about my age quite a lot.”

- “Then you should call me by my name too. Just Credence, no misters here either.”

- “It’s a deal!”

Kid grinned and shook Percy’s hand vigorously, maybe too excited for his own good. Thankfully this all went smoothly and this Credence wasn’t such a stuck up dick Graves imagined him to be after all. That’s a win in his book one hundred percent.

The boy climbed into the backseat of the car and Percy sat behind the wheel. It was action time, finally. After fastening his seatbelt and fixing rear view mirror Graves started the engine and slowly drove to the mansion’s main gate. Before leaving the grounds completely he turned to a kid and firmly insisted

- “Belt. I won’t go around with my passenger not following the safety rules.”

- “Alright, alright, I’ll buckle up. But only for you.”

Wait, was that a wink? Is this little bastard is flirting or something?

And they went to the city. The ride wasn’t really that long and Percy always found the radio to be boring and somewhat annoying so they drove in near silence and there was a comforting quality to that. Credence looked at the window, forehead pressed against the glass, seemingly so deep inside his thoughts he won’t be able to support any meaningful conversation even if he’d tried to. Graves didn’t mind though. They both were just enjoying the view.

When the destination was close his passenger left trancelike state of overthinking something and spoke

- “It has GPS, you know?”

- “What does?”

- “The car. Tablet and a mount for it are probably both in a glove compartment somewhere. At least they were the last time, but I don’t think that previous guy could have stolen it. Our security is really vigilante.”

Percival laughed softly

- “Well, thanks for the heads up, now I’ve changed my mind about stealing all of your earthly possessions and getting easy money. I’ll have to earn them the old fashioned way - by honesty working my ass off.”

- “You better do that. Where else I’ll find such a charmer with a sense of humor matching mine.”

- “You won’t be able to, I’m unique in that, even my brother doesn’t get my jokes half of the time.”

- “What to say about mine, then? Aunt Mary thinks I’m an asshole for trying to prank her so many times. But let’s be honest, she’s kind walked into some of those herself, I just tweaked the stuff a little bit.”

This version of Credence he definitely liked more, not the yelling angsty one from the morning encounter. Hopefully, he’ll continue to be more like this and this endeavor will be fruitful.

*A few weeks later*

He’s nice, this kid. Polite, sweet, caring, great sense of humor, huge personality, charisma, and charm just roll off him in waves but there is something about him that’s wrong. Percy is not able to pinpoint what’s exactly going on with the boy, but he knew trouble when he saw it. Credence was hiding from something and said something haunted him day and night. Yes, on a surface level everything seemed okay, all smiles and laughter, but at times, you could see the real boy, that emptiness behind his eyes, that dark despair in his actions, that unbearable desire to just run away from all of it. Kid acted out on those urges constantly - Percival knew all too well the tendencies of self-destructive behavior.

They met a few times a week and Graves drove him around to a plethora of different places - business meetings, lunches, social events, huge shopping malls and clubs, restaurants - you name it. Kid seemed to be fine, not really getting in trouble, except a few small ones, like drinking himself silly on some occasions or going out somewhere high as fuck, but mostly things went smoothly.

This day promised to be no different - drive him to a club, pick him up later, go through the closest drive-thru and get greasiest, grossest fast food, chow down on it and bring the kid back home. Easy-peasy, right? He’ll have some free time with Credence is partying and a meal afterward, pretty sweet deal.

Pulling up to some hot spot, all flashy lights and blaring music, security guards with stone faces, huge bulky dudes that can knock anyone out with just one punch, guest list, overpriced drinks and a crowd both out and in the facility - yeah, not surprising at all, boy loves places like this, Percy climbs out of the car and opens a door for his passenger, who is already a bit high on weed after pregaming with his pals.

Kid stretches his long limbs before getting out and shoots Graves an interesting look, half sided smirk indicating that he’s up to no good. Oh, that is a familiar expression, mischief written over his features in big bold letters. This deserves a sigh. What is he planning and what kind of problems they will get into? The boy starts talking which makes everything clear - two places in a list for only one person because his friend flaked out and it would be such a pity to let so much money go to waste.

- “Cmon, let’s go in! Better than just sit there and wait for me like a dog. It’ll be fun! You should have more fun, with me!”

Kid is basically whining all while pulling at his sleeve. Graves sighs again and reluctantly agrees.

- “Okay, okay, please leave my arm alone. I’ll go with you, but promise you’ll behave. It’s important.”

- “Whatever you say, daddy!”

- “Don’t call me that, goddamnit. I’m old, yeah, but not that old.”

Percival locks the car and puts on the alarm, only then following Credence, who’s long gone, chatting up the guy with a tablet in hand, talking about the guest list. The ease of getting into a party when you are loaded is fascinating. Securities part and tablet guy leads the way, into the small dark hallway leading up to even darker but bigger room. Some EDM is playing, crowd jumps up and down under the strobing lights and lasers, the smoke machine works it’s hardest and there even bubbles in the air. Well, that’s definitely overdoing it.

There is a bar with some stools but otherwise seating space is scarce, leathery couches beside the walls are jam-packed some people even sitting on a floor next to them. Credence says, more like yells to overpower the music, that he’s going to go say hello to a party’s host, whose birthday it is and he’ll be back soon. Percival signals to the bar and to his best abilities pantomimes that he’ll wait there, sitting his behind onto the first free space available. Bartender gestures to a gloving menu with rather inventive cocktail names, all of which are overpriced for the amount of booze they’re containing. Graves points to a water and gets a shrug and a glass of it with ice a little lemon and a straw, how fancy.

The place is loud, as he’d expected, flaring lights and all that smoke obscure the vision, his water is more expensive than a good meal and people surrounding him are superficial, stupid and shallow. Maybe coming inside wasn’t such a good idea. Getting a headache isn’t a priority right now. Time is put on hold, so he drifts away to his thoughts and goes through a few of the waters while waiting.

Boy jumps on him unexpectedly, long arms snaking around Percy’s chest, warm breathing on the back of his neck.

- “I’m back, darling! Are you having a good time without me?”

He’s happy, aloof and cheery. That means uppers, but not a lot of ‘em. Credence is rubbing his cheek into Graves’s, skin a little damp, eyes shining in the dark, irises are blown out and blush strong. Not the worst feeling, to be honest.

- “Not really. Are you ready to go? It’s kinda late.”

Kid starts to whine, pouting and dragging his voice

- “No, I wanna stay! We haven’t danced yet! I want a drink! My friends are still here!”

- “A drink you can have, but we’re going afterward, you’ve had enough for one night.”

Most of the people are actually left, maybe some of the aforementioned friends too, but boy was high and overly excited.

- “Give me Red Bull Vodka! And my friend’s gonna have it too!”

- “No, I’m not going to. Driving, remember?”

Another pout. This is kinda endearing but mostly annoying.

- “Then I’ll drink both! Maybe some E-s to go faster? We’ll come home in no time!”

So amphetamines it is. Goddamnit, this is going to be a disaster.

- “No. Sorry, kiddo, I always ride sober.”

- “Is that a challenge?”

- “No, that’s the way of living a long life with as little bones broken in the car crashes as possible.”

Credence looks like he’s going to cry. Lucky the liquor comes and boy downs it like water, one after the other, grabs Percy’s wrist and marches towards the exit in almost a straight line. When the doors of the establishment are in the view and fresh air is only a step away, kid stops fully, turns around and slams Graves into the wall full force, lips suddenly on his, soft mouth half open, running long fingers through man’s hair. He is taller, not by much, yet it’s noticeable. Percival has no idea how to react to that but it ends as quickly as it’s started. Whispering so close to his face that every breath tickles the skin, Credence explains

- “My petty ex, sorry for that. If he would have seen me here he would’ve told my aunt. I’m not supposed to be in this place. You were my only chance for cover.”

- “Understandable. Let’s go home before some other tattletale asshole recognizes you.”

A brisk walk in chilly night air almost erases the feeling of damp warmth from Graves’s lips although memory will be there forever. He has to hold the stumbling boy upright, latter crushing hard after adrenaline wave faded off. Laying him down is a hard piece of work, lanky limbs tangling and body not cooperating whatsoever. He’s conscious thought, able to speak, think and assert his will. Also for somebody who’s both high and drunk Credence is very talkative

- “You know what we should do? Shrooms! Like, right now. I know a guy, he’ll hook us up. It’s less than a twenty-minute drive from here, let’s go!”

- “This is a bad idea. I’m not taking you there.”

- “But I wanna be fucked up! Really fucked up, tripping balls. Aunt Mary will be so pissed anyways so I might just get the best of it and spend her rant watching rainbows riding each other.”

- “You are already fucked up enough and gonna feel like shit tomorrow’s morning, trust me.”

- “Who gives a damn about tomorrow? It’s not gonna be my problem, I’ll be out cold.”

- “And afterward, you’ll vomit all over the place, cry and wish to be dead.”

- “Yeah, that’s exactly how you know you had a good time last night.”

- “Sounds good when you are in the moment, but I know from experience how actually disgusting you’ll feel. Been there, done that, doesn’t recommend this to anyone.”

Kid laughs that stares in disbelief

- “You did some? Really? Don’t seem like a person who would, exactly, all adult and boring, no offense.”

- “I did. Stopped after that garbage wrecked my life. You should too before it’s too late.”

- “It’s already too late. She won’t let me live in peace or live at all, that’s probably my last years so I wanna go out with a bang!”

What is he talking about?

- “Care to elaborate, maybe?”

- “My parents. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Yeah, that. Fuck, this is not a territory Graves wanted to thread even if he could manage to be careful and respectful.

- “Yes, I’m sorry. I’ve read about the tragedy.”

- “Oh, you most definitely had, it was all over the news: “Courageous senator takes the orphaned nephew, the only heir to the combined wealth of his parents, under her wing, giving him a new home and two sisters to play with.” I’m sure, Ma’s and Pa’s money wasn’t the main reason. She’s my actual aunt, of course, on the father’s side, his younger sister, mother had no real family that I know of, but as much as Pa was rich she was smart. They made an excellent business duo, the Investor, and the Inventor. Father’s money quadrupled in the first two years of their marriage. Match made in Heaven, people said. Aunt Mary wasn’t convinced though. She always thought my mom wasn’t trustworthy. When I was little, I’ve heard them fight, my parents and her, and, for a few months though my mother was a witch, because of my aunt’s words. Only after I’ve become a little older I understood that she used the different word, the one that starts with the “b”. She probably hated them both, her brother for being older and inheriting all of the money and my mom, for taking the control of my dad over, being an intruder, an outsider. She took his last name, she named me according to a family tradition but that wasn’t enough. For those five years, I’ve spent in her house, living alongside their family the only thing I’ve dreamed of is to get out as soon as I can. No, she never did anything bad to me per say, but she’d never hesitated with the reminders of her kindness.”

That was a truth bomb of a century. Damn, this kid is screwed. Percival has no idea what to say or how to handle this and the rest of the ride is grim and silent. They arrived at the mansion somewhere between late night and early morning, when everything is dead asleep and sun isn’t even thinking about rising, only living souls not in their beds are last security shift, who lets them through the gates. Credence is still silent, seemingly upset with Graves’s lack of tact and discretion around the painful subject but Percy still has no idea what to say

- “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not like I don’t give a shit, I just don’t know how to say this. So yeah, sorry.”

- “I’m okay. Good night. I’ll call you when I need your services.”

Oh, that was cold. Boy disappears inside the house and from his life for a little. There is no calls or texts on his new phone, only some bits and pieces from servants group chat about Lady being angry and grounding the kid. Chief of guard spills a little more, telling that Credence got a big whooping and recovering from that, which doesn’t sound right. The situation is shitty from every perspective.

Percival comes by the servants quarters once in awhile trying to get any news, making friends with everyone who can tell him anything useful but people are definitely scared of the Lady Mary whom Graves haven’t seen yet. Who even has servants and calls herself Lady these days, good God.

Everything goes back to normal suddenly, much like it went south before. He wakes up one morning to a phone call and comes to pick up Credence like nothing’s happened. Boy definitely hides something but after the last time, Percy’s not touching this with a ten foot pole. This is not his problem.

*Two months later*

Their next outing is to another club in Brooklyn, how predictable now. When they went to gay clubs it was in the low and never to the same ones. Well, this tactic was working in their favor for now.

Boy always asked not to wait for him in front of a building, for hours on end, and to pick him up after he’d texted. That worked out for them both. Killing time isn’t that hard and there are some coffee shops to hang out in and maybe hit on cute baristas, or just read something like an actual person. Nightlife isn’t for him no more.

Text he receives is pretty concise

“Wait for me outside in ten minutes. Don’t come out.”

Okay, it’s working time. Parking near the club’s well-lit entrance Percival checks his watch - one minute left, good job, and prepares to wait some more.The person approaching the car is definitely not who Percy was expecting. Long lean legs in some kind of designer shoes, heels high and soles blood red, shiny skimpy skirt, he wasn’t sure of the material but it looked like a translucent leathery condom, so probably latex, and a top, made of the same thing over a small, almost nonexistent bosom, covered with a contraption made entirely out of thin straps and metal rings, like a cage snugly fitted over the stranger’s upper body, fingerless gloves and a small hat on top of huge mane of raven hair - the whole getup is black, see through and scandalous. Nice.

This wasn’t a first time he drove some of the Credence’s friends around, part of them young, pretty and kinda stupid socialites, fun, drunk and a bit petty, part - weirdos, bohemian fancy fucks who were high on some shit, yelled nonsense and asked dumb questions. This one was probably both, beautiful and weird so ride promised to be a handful. Maybe boy’s aunt will finally leave him alone about getting a girlfriend when he shows up with this one here, but probably bringing home the lady, who’s dressed like an expensive fetish prostitute will result in even more scrutiny.

The girl opens a car door and not really that gracefully plops herself in the backseat. For such a young woman she’s wearing quite a lot of makeup, features dark but skin so pale it was almost white. He hadn’t expected her to start undressing either. Was this some sort of prank, or did Credence actually ordered him a hooker?

Her long red nails went first, one by one as she presses fingertips to them and watches colored plastic fly away. Next to go were gloves, then the hat, shoes and the leather body holster. She wasn’t looking at him at all, minding her own business and Percival was a little confused, to say the least. When the skirt and the top started to come off he decided to take the situation into his own hands.

- “Hi, there! I have a quick question if you don’t mind: what in the actual fuck are you doing and who are you for God’s sake? Why are you almost naked in a stranger’s car?!”

- “What are you talking about, Percy? You definitely know me, c’mon.”

With those words, the last pieces of clothing were gone revealing smooth pale skin, complete absence of breasts and shiny tape covering the genitals. Wig went off, cap too, and there was Credence in just ridiculous amount of makeup staring back at him.

- “Wait, are you secretly a drag queen?”

- “No, actually, but some of my friends are. It was a themed night and I’ve decided to try it. On a more important note, though l didn’t pin you as a type who’s aware of gay culture, you know.”

- “We all got our secrets.”

- “Now I’m interested. Spill it!”

- “Ugh, okay. I had a different life before rehab and met people from different places. Is that enough information?”

- “Of course not! But I’ll wait until you’ll be ready to talk more.”

This kid. Rummaging through a purse he whips out a package of wet wipes and starts rubbing his face, peeling lashes off and smearing black and red all over. That’s a mess. The whole packet is barely enough to remove everything and boy’s skin looks inflamed, some lipstick residue left behind. When it’s time to peel the tape of his junk Credence shoots Percy a sharp look which makes the man averted his gaze to the road ahead, glancing in interest while kiddo shimmies tight jeans on up to the knees and rips sticky bonds with a hiss. Going commando is brave idea after all of that. After putting the t-shirt on boy leaves the car to return borrowed garments to a tall tanned queen waiting him out. They chat for a little, painted blonde bursts into laughter a few times while looking at Percy and then back to the kid. That little shit. They hug before parting and then she waves you both goodbye as the car drives away.

Credence is surprisingly timid now, trying not to look in Percival’s general direction and twirling his fingers, fidgeting in his seat, checking the belt and doing all the stuff people usually do when they’re worried.

- “What’s wrong? You’re kinda jittery, kiddo.”

He freezes completely with a look on his face of a bunny who just saw a snake unhinge its jaws to devour him. Truth comes out of him in a few minutes, almost a whisper

- “Can you keep a secret? This secret. Please. She’ll freak the fuck out if I show up looking like I was before. And I couldn’t do it inside. Please don’t rat me out.”

- “I won’t. Also, why should I? Nothing good will come of it if I do that.”

- “It’s just I can’t trust anyone my aunt hires. She makes them spy on me and tell her everything. There’s no one inside that house to support me.”

- “Your aunt didn’t hire me, main security guy did. And I’m not from your house, right. This is safe with me.”

Credence’s voice is soft and it sounds like he’s sobbing

- “Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve acted like ass before. I’m such a dick to you.”

- “Stop it. It’s okay. Let’s get food and go home. What would you fancy this time of evening.”

He is laughing now and it’s so much better seeing him smile than cry.

- “Taco Bell! Let diarrhea come, I’m ready.”

Now both chucking, they go into the drive-thru and eat tacos in the night. It’s the most peaceful after party in Percival’s memory. When he drops the boy off latter still smiles and that’s warming man’s heart to the very bottom.

*Next week*

Past several days are packed to the brim with activities, meetings, and plans. Kid’s birthday is coming and he is busy as ever. One night that he gets off, after supervising all the preparations, is the night of fun for him and a horror show for Graves. They go to some friend’s house, then to a liquor store, then to another friend to pick up five people - it’s insane. When the gaggle of tipsy youngsters finally get off at the destination he asks the boy to stay for a little

- “Hey. Be safe there, okay. Don’t do anything stupid.”

- “Yes, daddy. Can I go now?”

- “Oh God, don’t call me that. But in all seriousness, keep yourself in check. And one more thing. Credence, please, stay out of trouble this time around.”

- “Aww, you really care about me”

- “Somebody has to, you know.”

- “Alright, okay, I promise I’ll try my best. Bye-bye, I’ll text you.”

He blows a kiss a runs off into the crowd. That deserves a deep sigh. After the few hours of mindless driving and visiting numerous cafes for a cup of coffee Percival finally hears the phone chime. Text appears on the screen

“Pick me up.”

He pays quickly and rushes out of the building, while chiming resumes, one text after another

“I’m outside”

“Take me home”

“Now”

“Percy, I don’t feel so good”

“Please come and get me”

Fuck, what did the kid do? Graves speeds up, ignoring few road signs to be there for the boy as soon as he can. It’s a record time, but he could have been arrested for reckless driving. When Percival pulls up to a club Credence is nowhere to be seen. Shit. He’s trying to find the kiddo behind the building, in the alley where people smoke, take drugs and fuck, sometimes simultaneously. Thankfully, Credence is there, back against the wall, eyes glassy. That’s bad, really really bad. Percy jumps out and hurries up to his precious passenger.

- “What did I said about staying out of trouble?”

His response is slow, voice weak and raspy

- “Leave me alone. I know I fucked it up, let me wallow in my misery.”

- “Fuck no! You’re coming with me. Right! NOW! Move it, young man.”

Graves has to drag the kid into the back seat and put seat belt over almost non-responsive body. Goddamnit, both of them are so fucked. Boy is blabbering nonsense at this point

- “Just drop me off at some hotel, I’ll be alright, she won’t even notice I’m missing. I’ve done it before, quite successfully, actually. Just lie to the old bitch in the morning and everything will be fine.”

- “Listen, I don’t really want to be a part of this.”

- “Oh, me neither, buddy. She’ll go ballistic. Totally not looking forward to that”

- “This can cost me a good paying job, you know. The job that I really need. I’ve helped you as much as I could, but this you’ll have to face alone.”

- “I always face her alone.”

- “I don’t think you have a choice here. We can do this the easy way or the hard way and you are the one who has to choose which way it’ll be. I’m not really a fan of the second option and it might cost me this job and some other things, but you know that I’m bound by contract and can’t really do anything about that. And I’m also the man of my word. Plenty of things I’ve fucked up in this life, but promises - never. If you can’t keep your word you can’t be a decent man.”

Percy waits for response but gets no answer. Fucking brat has decided to give him a silent treatment. When the sound of an opening car window distracts Graves from driving it’s already too late - Credence is already vomiting copiously out of the full speed driving car. Goddamn little pig. The rattling of the door handle is the last thing Percival wants to hear at the moment. Is that idiot for real? Does he really want to just walk out of the moving vehicle?

Pulling over near some dingy alleyway, as far from the street lights as possible, Percy jumps out of the car first, to help out. The younger man is heaving, face red, puffy and sweaty, capillaries in his eyes busted from forcefully hurling over and over again. This is incredibly shitty. He helps the boy stumble into the privacy of the alley and rubs circles on his back, whilst the latter pukes his little heart out, last few spasms just empty dry heaving, the kind that will only make you feel worse. Shit. Coming back now, looking like this isn’t a good idea.

Something from not so recent memory surfaces and Percy is ready to act on it. Grabbing Credence tightly he marches back, shoves him in and floors the gas pedal. Closest 24-hour pharmacy is five minutes away but they got there in two. After gathering the supplies and paying Graves storms out just in time to catch that goddamn idiot boy falling out of the car. After even more dry heaving and tears they finally go to a place Percival wasn’t ready to show to anyone yet - his home.

Juggling keys and a plastic bag with all the medical things in one hand and trying to pull essentially passed out Credence up the stairs man basically fell inside his shitty apartment. Oh, this is gonna be one long long night. Dragging lanky body, even though kid was freakishly thin, was difficult especially when trying not to bang him up too much. Percy’s bed, this time thankfully made, was the only choice of surface to lay an unconscious body on. Digging into the bag, Graves produced out an I.V. unit, tubing, and a needle. Being out of practice could’ve hurt this idea but man focused all the mental capabilities he owned and pierced boy’s vein giving him much needed fluids and medication to make Credence better. Turning him on a side and leaving a bucket for any mishaps Percy left to make himself coffee. So that’s how his friends felt when he was like that. Shitty kind of feeling, he’s not gonna lie.

In a few hours and two more packets of I.V. fluid kid was better, not so ghoulishly green in the face and less choking on his own breath. It was time to talk some sense into him. Walking into a room with a sick person in it is always hard so some psyching up was needed. Graves slapped himself in a face a few times and entered. Boy was laying there, on his bed, in his home, suddenly so miserable and distressed and small looking, curled like a fetus on his side, face wet with tears. Like a punch in a gut, that is heart-wrenching. Percy tries to be understanding and gentle

- “Hi, sweetie. Are you feeling any better?”

Soft murmur is almost inaudible

- “A bit. Thank you.”

That’s probably bullshit but at least he’s trying to be polite, so some progress was made.

- “Do you want anything? A glass of water maybe?”

Boy whispers something Graves can’t hear. Dammit. Now for even more pointless asking.

- “I can do anything you want, really. I know full well how bad you feel right now, kiddo. Let me help you.”

Credence coughs a few times and rasps out an answer Percival was dreading

- “I would like to stay here, with you for a while. Maybe even longer. It’s nice, your place, it’s real and lived in and so homey, you know. Feels like someone actually lives here, not like a fucking dollhouse I exist in.”

Oh, here we go. That’s why Graves doesn’t help people. Fuck, how to lay him off now, when he found himself a “knight in shining armor”, a savior from his horrible life. Damnit!

- “Listen, kid, you might think that your life is the shittiest, worst life in the whole wide world, that you were robbed of your happy childhood with your loving parents in your pretty mansion with awesome toys but you’re wrong. You are privileged and pampered and don’t have any clue what outside life is like. You’ve never worked for anything, never really struggled and you never will because you’re rich. That woman won’t have any power over you when you’ll turn of age and on your merry way you go, all parties and no worries, until the end of your days. This is not your life and this life is not for you. There is not a single goddamn chance you could survive on your own.”

- “So I’m just some kind of spoiled rotten brat for you, ha? I’ve expected that, kinda predictable, really.”

- “Can’t fucking deny what’s there. Money corrupts people. I get it, okay. You’re bored. Having everything doesn’t satisfy you no more, so it’s time to mess with other people’s lives. Now, lemme tell you something - I don’t wanna be messed with. At all. I have my shit to deal with, so please, can you not add to that pile. It’s kinda huge as is.”

Credence starts crying for real now. Huge tears, sobs, and snot coming out of his nose. Fuck, it’s only got worse. Percy needs to do something quickly, so, in a state of complete and unfiltered panic he leans over a boy and gives him a full body hug, pressing wet face into a fabric of his shirt. Kid is wailing, grabbing him like he’s drowning. Graves clumsily pets his head and back and tries to murmur something soothing. Crying stops in a few minutes and Credence just lays there, pressed into him and breathing heavily.

- “Listen, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. You’re not a complete stranger to me and I care about you but that’s not something I have a lot of experience with. Suff like that is hard for me, I don’t know what to say or how to feel. I want to help but I don’t think I’ll be helpful.”

- “This is all her fault! That disgusting, vile, worthless bitch ruined my life. She’s always onto me and it’s hard for to be genuinely disinterested and unenthusiastic about things I like and she knows that and uses that knowledge to get to me every single time. Concealing my true feelings, my real identity, being fully aware of how I act, how I talk, how I move is a fucking torture. That repulsive scum of the Earth is always ready to strike and always happy to do so. I hate her, I’m tired of this and I just want to be myself, to be accepted. It’s so draining not only emotionally but physically too.”

- “Well, I’m sorry for you, kid, but there’s nothing I personally can do about it. It’s your life and the power is yours. Tell her to piss off, take the situation into your own hands and do whatever you like. And whatever she does to you isn’t your fault. You are stronger than this and you can fight her back. Take what’s yours and leave.”

- “As soon as I turn twenty-one. Next week. I’ll do it! Thank you, Percy.”

- “That’s the spirit! I’ll support you as much as I can, but, ultimately, you are the one to do it. And I believe you can.”

- “Thank you.”

His eyes are glimmering and he’s smiling beautifully. Fuck, Percy is so screwed. Boy leans in and parts his lips a little. Oh no, Graves feeling the huge mistake coming yet still goes with it. The kiss is soft and chaste, Credence’s hands all around him and gentleness of this encounter melt the rest of coldness inside Percy’s soul. They sit calmly, still hugging and kid finally drifts off. The man decides not to leave his side and falls asleep next to the boy. It’s the best night of sleep he had in years.

Morning is hazy, they hurry back to the mansion but before leaving the apartment Credence kisses him again, morning breath and all, still that doesn’t bother Percival even a bit. They drive in nice silence, holding hands, boy now sitting in a front seat and it’s magnificent. He’s probably falling in love, fuck. Before leaving the car kid turns around and with a serious look tells Percy something that both comes as a shock but also as an old news

- “I’ve liked you from the first day we met.”

- “You know, I kinda got that from all of your flirting.”

Boy blushes heavily.

- “No, you weren’t sneaky at all. But that was sweet. I like you too. Now go before we get in trouble.”

Credence squeezes man’s palm before climbing out and going inside. Oh good God, what did Percival got himself into?

*Credence’s Birthday*

So, the day has come. Twenty-first birthday of Credence Barebone, the single richest miserable boy in the world. Percival was ready, he bought the present and cleaned his apartment, leaving beautifully packaged box in the middle of the bed. Champagne, strawberries and chocolate cake in the fridge, pressed suit on, few spritzes of cologne - he was prepared as fuck.

Driving up to a highly decorated front gate Percy spotted the man of the hour himself, dressed more casually than Graves expected. Tight leather pants, plaid shirt, and a mesh tank top. Yes, sure, he looked incredible in the getup but how about the fancy party they were supposed to head to? Something definitely went wrong, kid never came this far to meet him.

Credence almost ran to a car wasting no time on climbing in, close to Percival. They both smile

- “Hello to you, birthday boy! So what’s all of this is about?”

- “Hi, handsome! Well, we discussed my party with aunt Mary and I’ve decided to spend my day the way I actually wanted to. So we’re going to a club my friends booked up and we gonna party ‘till we drop! Cool, ha?”

- “You had a fight, right?”

- “Yes, we had one. But I’m a legal adult now and I can do what I want to. So let’s go!”

- “Are you sure that it’s a good idea?”

- “Oh come on, old man, don’t be such a grouch, just join me for a bit of harmless fun. We’ll have everything - drinks, drugs, food. Let’s go, you really need something like this just about now. I personally know how big of a cunt my dearest aunt can be, so, for putting up with Auntie Cuntie’s bullshit you need a good reward. Forget about her and let’s roll!”

- “Okay, but I’ve warned you, just by the way. If we’re gonna get into something you’ll bail us out, it’s kinda your turn.”

- “Fine! And don’t be so grumpy, you’ll like it, it’ll be fine, you just need some molly and life will get peachy!”

- “That’s not the best idea you’ve had. Let’s not get high at all, okay. It’s bad for you!”

- “So why’d you smoke then? It’s bad for the health too, you know, it’ll destroy your body eventually.”

- “Oh yes, I’m well aware of that. But tell me, sweetness, what’s not gonna kill you these days? The air we breathe is polluted, the things we eat are highly processed, everything around us slowly goes extinct, diseases becoming more and more potent and garbage litters our habitats, even going into space. We’re fucked as a civilization and as a species, we’re doomed as a society. Why should I care about lung cancer or heart attacks when I have a bigger chance of dying even before that can happen to me. And, then, why do people who live “healthy” lifestyles are still dying of the same things. Yeah, I don’t really give a fuck anymore, if it’s doing nothing to help or harm me really, why stop.”

- “Well, fuck. That kind of life philosophy is deeply flawed and quite depressing.”

- “I don’t really care much about that.”

- “Maybe you should, and things in your life won’t suck as much!”

Percival chuckles

- “ And maybe I want something to finally suck me off.”

Boy’s face flushes in pink so fast upon hearing those words. It’s delightful seeing him flustered and hiding his eyes. So cute.

- “The rant about smoking was sarcastic actually. I wanted to quit for a long time now. Who knows, maybe you’ll help me.”

Credence is even cuter now, hopeful and happy and so adorably helplessly sheepish with affection. You can feel the waves of adoration rolling off him. Such a sweetie.

They parked next to the club and Percy recognized the place.

- “Is that the same place you did a drag night in?”

- “You’ve remembered it? Yes, my best friend works here and he’s, sorry, she’s booked for today.”

- “Tall, tanned blonde? She made a great girl out of you. But don’t worry, I prefer you as a boy hundred times more.”

He’s blushing again. This is so fun. They get in and place is decorated with every possible thing in the party store, bright colors and crinkling plastic everywhere. A huge group of people waits for them and cheers when Credence walks in. All those people are his friends. And he deserves each and every one of them.

People surround kid’s and congratulate him, wishing a ton of things and filling his hands with presents. Percival hopes boy is having a good and excuses himself to a bar. Well, he just can’t skip a celebration like this, so they are Ubering home tonight because he’s drinking.

Six Long Island iced teas and five White Russians later Percy is pretty shitfaced, relaxed and happy. The show in the background isn’t as obnoxious as he’d expected but maybe alcohol gave him more tolerance to that kind of bullshit. Music starts playing and everyone storms to a dance floor leaving him alone with bartender. Gesturing for a refill he hears footsteps approaching

- “Make that two, Candy. And put it on gentlemen’s tab. No lady should pay for her drink.”

Percival turns to find that drag queen from before sitting next to him, dressed in sparkly rhinestoned black leotard, insanely high heels and bunny ears, tail is probably somewhere there too

- “Hi! Did you want to speak to Credence? Unfortunately, I can’t find him in the crowd, but you might be able to do that from the stage.”

She’s laughing

- “No, deary, I wanted to speak to you. But first, the treat.”

And downs her drink in one gulp. Impressive.

- “You seem like a nice guy, I’ll give you that. And the benefit of a doubt. But our dear, sweet Credence has been through hell and back and I don’t want nobody hurting him, you get me? So, in case you don’t actually have feelings for him, stay the fuck away. Is that clear?”

- “More than clear, Ma'am. I do actually have feelings for him, and think that’s none of your business but, considering that Credence likes your company so much I won’t tell you to piss off right away. We can try to be friendly to each other at least.”

- “Well, I like your style. He chose right this time. Don’t break his heart or I’ll break your face. Bye.”

And she downs his drink too before leaving. What a bitch. Strong, confident, cool bitch. The bartender puts three shots before him, on the house. Graves waists no time and takes them one after the other. Oh Jesus, was that a moonshine? While he’s trying to remember how to breathe, kid jumps onto his back and squeals from glee

- “Best. Party. Ever. This is so awesome!”

He seems off, though, movements twitchy and weird, excitement clearly chemically amplified. This is worrying.

- “We gotta go, Credence, it’s time for you to get home. I don’t want it to be like the last time.”

- “I don’t wanna do that. Not now, not ever. That place is not my home, it never was. It’s just the house I live in. I don’t have a home since Ma and Pa died.”

This again. Dammit, Percy hoped not to provoke that type of conversation on the boy’s special night.

- “I’m talking about my home, kiddo. I have something there for you. That was supposed to be a surprise but I just couldn’t help myself. So, whatcha think? Let’s ditch them and go?”

Boy smiles so widely his cheeks probably hurt.

- “Okay, but gimme a kiss first!”

And they do kiss, boy’s tongue inside his mouth and weird taste with it. Graves notices the effects only when it hits him. That’s uppers. Credence shoved a bunch of molly in his mouth. Goddamnit. Alcohol and drugs hit him hard, all inhibitions lost and mind open to anything. Everything’s a blur, faces, shapes, lights. It’s all so bright and bizarre and loud. He remembers only fragments: dancing, kissing, drinking some more, singing, contests and doing coke of off Credence’s stomach. How they end up in the bathroom is a mystery yet the door’s closed and no one is there to interrupt them passionately making out.

When thin long legs cross behind Percy’s hips and pull him flush against kid’s crotch a brief moment of lucidity brakes through all of the substances bringing one sober thought - this isn’t right.

“Graves, what the fuck are you getting yourself into? He’s barely an adult, he’s technically your employer and his mental aunt will eat you with shit for breakfast. You are so fucked. Why are you doing this? Just say no. Politely decline his advances, go home, masturbate for a few hours and the next day it will be like nothing ever happened. He’ll forget everything, he’s so high. And you are high too. This is such a bad idea.”

The voice in his head, that annoying subconscious worm who ate his hopes and dreams, that piece of shit, was drilling his brains again with the usual. Although Credence’s advances were a good distraction, especially when he starts palming Percival’s cock through the fabric of his pants and moans softly.

Ah, fuck it. What did the kid yell the other day? YOLO? So be it, you really only live once, it’s time for him to live again. Maybe that’s drugs talking or maybe it’s just the years and years of suppressed desires coming back to him, but Percy was ready to party like he did long long long time ago and there was nothing to stop him. Finally.

And his lean beautiful body promised infinite pleasure, the most sensual good time on this earth. Goddamnit stop thinking about him this way. Fucking poet all of the sudden, this always happens when he’s high.

But all of the words in the world can’t describe the way Credence rubs himself against Percival’s body and how hard, hot and bothered he is. Oh, how strong is the desire to just devour him whole. They kiss aggressively, biting and wrestling their tongues, hands palming one another greedily. Boy is panting already, eyes dark with want and lips bright from kissing and moist with saliva. Percy’s dress shirt goes first, suit jacket and tie he cautiously left in the car before entering the club. Kid’s top follows, leaving him in mesh only which spikes man’s interest even more. Biting a pink nipple through the fabric, squeezing his ass and rutting into boy’s hardness with his own is intoxicating.

Credence is moaning louder and louder as less and less clothing separates them. Percival pulls his own trousers and boy’s leather pants to expose them both and rub themselves together. Kid’s jaw goes slack as he bucks into the hand pleasuring him and digs fingers into Graves’s back. The sting of pain only makes him hotter and now aforementioned leather garment is pulled down to Credence’s ankles and Percival is firmly between them, petting the soft skin on the back of boy’s thighs. Only thing latter can choke up is a desperate plea

- “Back pocket, there’s lube. You’ll tear me with that thing of yours without it.”

Another wild kiss. Another breathless moan

- “Stretch me first, please. You’re fingers, I want them inside me. Hurry! I can’t handle myself no more!”

So Graves is lifting Credence’s whole body up into the air and propping him on a sink counter, boy’s knees squeezing Percival’s ribs while latter’s hands ran across untouched buttocks and loin. Prying said lube is a task in on itself and Percy has to open the package with his teeth, spitting chunk of wrapper on a floor. Lathering his fingers quickly he gently traces middle one between boy’s cheeks before teasing the tight ring of muscle with barely a tip. Kid shivers and pushes himself forwards seeking penetration.

- “Hold your horses sweetie. You wanted to be ready, right? So let me help you.”

- “Don’t tease me, please. I want you so badly. Percy, fuck me!”

- “Your word is my command, baby.”

And with that one finger is inside boy’s body. His hole flutters when Graves curves a fingertip upwards upon thrusting in, picking up pace. Credence moans every time Percival moves and soon he’s ready for more. The second finger goes in smoothly, joining the first, stretching hot, velvety tightness. A perfect litany of sighs moans and gasps leaves boy’s lips when his mouth isn’t occupied by Graves’s.

Leaving a trail of bite marks and hickeys, bright purplish-red against almost white skin Percy showers boy’s neck and collarbones in attention while adding the third finger in. Kid writhes and gasps trying to find purchase and to sink more on digits pumping in and out of his body. Wet sounds fill the room, boy is begging for more with his movements and noises and Graves complies.

Pulling out completely Percy gives Credence a soft kiss and before kid is able to say anything else opens up a condom he found in the same pocket lube was in. Just touching himself right now is too much, the head of his cock swollen and slick with pre-come. Unrolling the rubber slowly Graves hisses at the feeling. He hopes Credence is ready because he can’t wait anymore.

Pushing in slowly he looks into boy’s eyes intently, watching his expression, gentle not to hurt the kid. Surprisingly it easy, sliding inside to the hilt while Credence is tensing completely before going slack and moaning. He is tight, hot and trembling, delirious with raw want. As Percy’s trying to steady himself before going any farther boy starts rocking forwards, impaling his body on a hard cock, letting out soft sobs. When they change the angle kid goes ballistic, clenching around Percival, clutching his neck, clawing the back of man’s head. Graves repeatedly thrust into that sweet spot, grinding it some more.

All those drugs are messing with his ability to last and he is already getting closer than he would have liked to. Every friction sends a red-hot wave up the pit of Percival’s stomach and when they pick up the pace it becomes almost unbearable. Sharp jolts of pleasure make his head swim and hands shake. Boy’s breath, hot and damp against his skin makes him prickle with goosebumps, makes his nipples hard as he rubs their bodies together, chasing kid’s warmth, pressing Credence’s rock hard cock better them.

Throaty whimpers boy makes go higher in pitch, he quivers and trembles and rubs himself back against Percy’s skin. Rhythm is punishing, bodies move in perfect sync, everything else completely fades. Only them and sweet pleasure ahead. Kid’s shaking rasp voice in his ear begs for more

- “Don’t stop, please! I’m so close! Cum inside me! Please! Feels so good!”

Broken moans and gasps leave boy’s mouth while Percy earnestly thrusts into him, hard and fast, rocking the thin form underneath him, making Credence arch like a bow opening pale throat for further assault. They both are so unbelievably close, kid’s body clenching hard, core tight with anticipation and Percy can’t take it anymore, hoarsely moaning

- “Now be a good boy and come for me!”

And Credence unravels completely, almost shouting, convulsing, squirting cum all over their bodies, his body spasming chaotically, muscles fluttering, milking Percival’s cock. Graves climaxes hard, rocking himself into his sweet boy, grunting, and moaning. Aftershocks are exquisite, warmth and relaxed calm happiness fill them both. Embracing each other they pant for air and kid giggles. After a slow and gentle kiss, Percy pulls out and takes the condom off, tying it and tossing into a trash can. Credence pulls his pants up, face scrunching as the material touches his ass. Then chuckles softly when Graves gives him a concerned look

- “I’ve never been fucked like this before. Good God, I can barely stand. You’ll probably have to carry me to our car like a bride now.”

- “And I will. Do you need time to recover?”

- “Not really. I’m still very much high. Let’s go, we should come out if we wanna go anywhere.”

- “Did you plan this, by the way?”

- “Birthday sex? Yes. The best gift in the world! What else did you get me?”

- “Round two, if you’re a good boy.”

Credence most definitely is expected by that proposition and after hasty fixing their clothing both men walk out only to be ambushed by a cheering crowd. Fuck, they heard everything. Percival has no idea where to hide his face and how to avoid stares so the first drink in his proximity ends up in his mouth before he can even collect himself. And another one, and another one. It’s a bliss, being so hammered that nothing bothers you anymore.

He doesn’t remember how exactly did they get home, but they are in his bed, nude and cuddling, boy’s head on his shoulder, legs tangled together, hands wrapped around each other and for the first time in forever Percival feels complete. He’s loved and he’s loving back, all thanks to this disaster of a man lying beside him. Credence is amazing and deserves happiness and Percy will do anything to make his dear beloved boy happy.

The end.

P.S. Oh, hi there. Thanks for reading, please leave me a comment or like and reblog if you’d enjoyed it. Ask me stuff here on Tumblr and my other fics are here and here. Go bother me, I’ll be happy to talk to you. Bye.

#gravebone #gradence #credence/graves #credence x graves #credence barebone #percival graves #fanfic #gradence fic #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts fanfic #fantastic beasts fic #gradence fanfic #gradence au #au #modern au #fbawtft #hella gay #gay #please read it

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buttons-on-shirts · 8 years ago

Text

"seems accurate” || newt scamander

word count: 2809

summary: soulmate au!(reader x newt scamander) → you have a tattoo of what your soulmate is most passionate about

author’s note: this can go one of two ways → one: really horribly and no one likes it OR two: people like it and i fell happy on the inside. i don’t know which one to expect. but, anyways, enjoy! (sorry for any spelling or grammar errors)

it started how everything starts. you were born with tattoos on your right arm. the tattoos that were supposed to signify who you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with. tattoos that shows what your soulmate is most passionate about.

and supposedly, if the tattoos your right arm sent shivers down your spine or got all tingly then your love for your soulmate was true and undeniable or it was tingly when two soul mates were close to each other. it was never completely by the world. to you it was all rumors that you barely listened to.

on everyone’s arm there was always one common factor that all soulmates shared. it was a specific pattern or a shape that could only be matched with your own soulmate. for you and your soulmate, it was a puzzle piece. simple as that.

ever since you were a child and could understand the concept of the significance of the tattoos, you were excited to find that special person. your arm contained many things, most of which changed through the years and age. but the one that never changed was a single sentence. creatures of all kind. it was always placed in the middle of all the other images and it stayed that same way all throughout your life.

it was common to have a few words to describe what a soulmate is most passionate about. most things were able to be shown, and you guessed ‘creatures of all kind’ couldn’t really be shown unless you wanted a whole sleeve of tattoos on your arm.

you tried to find information on all different creatures. you tried so hard, but you couldn’t come up with anything except for that the basic facts. every book you found, it was the same thing over and over again maybe the occasional extra fact. it got frustrating and annoying really quickly. “can’t someone just write a book about all of these creatures?”

after graduating from hogwarts you immediately left to work in the ministry as an auror. a couple years later, they need you to move to america, new york specifically. they needed you to help the macusa (to work under a percival graves) with the excess of protesters and hiding the wizards and witches from their rampages.

you had trouble adjusting to all the backwards rules and different way of living for wizards there. nobody had to hide in the shadows in europe; you could easily get away with doing a simple spell in public with no one noticing. it was a drastic change from what you were used to.

you met another witch also working under percival graves. her name was tina and she certainly did help you adjust with all the different lifestyles. her sister queenie was equally as helpful.

you moved into their apartment with them with a lot of convincing on their part. you weren’t one to just take something that other people handed out. you were willing to work for what you needed and wanted. so they had a little bit of trouble getting you to move in.

it was around dusk when you got home from work. it was a long day at that day and all you really wanted was to eat then sleep. you had felt a slight tingling on your right arm earlier that day. but had scratched it away in that moment because you were keeping an eye on an area of muggle protesters in front of a city bank, just listening to what they were yelling about.

you were trying to look over the crowd of heads from your spot in the dark alley, but all of sudden you felt a tingling sensation run up your arm. it wasn’t unpleasant in anyway, it just felt sort of... comforting. you looked around frantically for anybody that was experiencing the same thing. but there was no one.

you had felt the tingling in your arm before; when you attended hogwarts. whenever you were in herbology or care of magical creatures (honestly it was just a study hall sort of thing; there wasn't much to learn), but that was years ago. it couldn’t possibly mean anything now could it? it was all in your head.

a few more minutes of nothing, you decided to disapparate and head back to the macusa to finish a little bit of paperwork then head home.

it was about dusk when you decided to go home. you gathered all of your stuff and apparated to an alleyway next to the building you lived in. the tingling was back. it was stronger this time and it was starting to bother you.

upon opening the door, you smelt freshly made food. “queenie! you started dinner without me! how dare you!” you laughed, placing your stuff on a chair. the tingling feeling was running up and down your whole arm and it was really bothering you now. you rubbed up and down your arm to try to numb it and make it go away, but it didn’t work.

upon stepping into the doorway to the kitchen you stopped instantly at the sight of two guests. two male guests. men weren’t allowed in the building. mrs. esposito was going to kill all three of you if she ever found out.

“oh! sorry about that, (y/n). jacob here was just so hungry. weren’t you, honey?” queenie asked sweetly. she turned to look at the chubby man who had put a napkin around his neck. 'jacob’ looked at her wide-eyed and nodded his head quickly. “he’s a no-maj! can you believe it? i’ve never talked to one before. mrs. esposito isn’t going to find out either, (y/n).”

you glared at her for a second before nodding slowly. you hated it when she read your mind. she had gotten used the accent and could read your mind with no trouble.

the other man only glanced up at you for a few seconds, but looked away from you instantly. the tingling was still going up and down your arm. a snapping noise went throughout the apartment. his blue overcoat was still on, and a large suitcase sat next to him. it clicked open and he instantaneously reached down and locked it back down. you looked towards tina for a further explanation.

“this is newt scamander. he’s visiting from england, and he’s lost a few creatures from his case and we’re going to help him find them,” tina informed you. you surveyed the man; his light brown hair was almost covering his eyes. you couldn’t see them anyways; he was looking towards the other direction and towards the floor. it looked like something was bothering him and his left hand was subtly massaging his right arm.

“oh yeah. i remember you! newt scamander; you were a hufflepuff we had a couple classes together,” you said, remembering him suddenly.

he looked up at you, recognition flashing on his face suddenly. “oh. yes. i remember you too. the famous seeker for your house. it’s hard to forget someone like you,” newt said, looking away momentarily. quickly his eyes widened and he looked back at you. “oh! i didn’t mean that in a bad way! i just meant that-”

“it’s fine. i understood what you meant,” you assured him. you both looked at each other for a few more seconds before looking away quickly.

the other three people in the room looked back and forth between the two of you. queenie smiled brightly at what both of you were thinking of each other. it was too cute.

the tingling was really starting to bother you now. you still pushed it aside and acted as if nothing was wrong. you nodded, and took your place in between tina and newt at the dinner table.

the dinner went relatively uneventful except for the constant glances from newt towards you. and the constant teasing/flirting from queenie and jacob. newt wasn’t eating; instead looked as if he was looking for a way out, jacob was stuffing his face with the food, queenie was watching him with a smile and you and tina were slowly eating what was on your plates.

you subconsciously rubbed at your arm to soothe the tingling. “(y/n), what’s wrong with your arm? you’ve been rubbing at it all dinner,” tina asked suddenly.

shaking your head slightly, you glanced up at her. newt had finally settled his gaze on you, focusing on your answer. “it’s nothing. just my arm has been feeling really tingly today.”

abruptly newt stood up, case in hand. “i’m so sorry to interrupt, but i think it’s about time for me to go to sleep.” without a response, he walked swiftly to the guest bedroom across the corridor.

you and tina looked at each other confused about what had just happened. “was it something i said?”

later that night, tina followed you into the guest bedroom while carrying a tray of hot chocolate for the jacob and newt. “i thought you might like a hot drink?” tina asked the two.

jacob gratefully took a mug from her. “hey, mr. scamander! look, cocoa!” newt didn’t respond, only facing the other way.

newt was laying still under a blanket feigning sleep. tina got annoyed with newt and his unresponsiveness and placed his mug harshly on the bedside table. “there’s a bathroom down the hall to the right,” tina muttered and walked quickly out of the room.

“thanks...” jacob called. you smiled kindly at him. “i just wanted to apologize to newt for whatever i said at dinner,” you said, looking towards the lump under the blanket. “okay, i’ll leave now.” with a nod, you turned to leave. before you could even set one foot out the door there was a rustling from behind you. then an hand was around your arm and the tingling only centered around that contact.

you turned around and looked down at the hand. then looked at the person connected to it. newt. his eyes were pleading for you to stay. “(y/n), i need you to stay. i’m more than sure that you are my soulmate.”

your breath hitched in the back of your throat. soulmate? you hadn’t thought about that since hogwarts. it, of course, would explain the continuous tingling on your right arm, why newt kept glancing at you and why it looked like his arm was bothering him. because it was; he felt the tingling too.

your eyes flickered down to your arm one more time before nodded slowly. you closed the door quietly, keeping yourself in the room. newt’s eyes glimmered in happiness and excitement for a moment. he looked like small child was just given candy.

newt rushed over to the bed and picked up his case and placed it on the floor. quickly he opened it and stepped inside of it. you grinned happily at the case and instantly rushed to go into the case.

once in the case, you looked around. you were both in a shed of sorts that was tilted. it was littered with papers, plants and buckets. newt pushed his way up the steps and signaled jacob to come too.

newt had taken off his overcoat, waistcoat, undone his how tie, and lowered his braces. he looked comfortable and it was a good look on him.

newt was showing you both around, and taking care of his creatures when jacob wandered off to explore. newt and you walked around in silence looking at all the creatures. after a long time spent walking, you both stopped to sit in a small meadow with small magical insects flying around.

“i suppose this whole case of yours explains the ‘creatures of all kind’ on my arm, huh?” you asked out of the blue. newt looked at you as you rolled up your sleeve to show him the sentence.

he chuckled softly, and nodded. “i guess so.” he carefully took your right arm into his hands (with your permission of course) and looked over all the tattoos on your arm. he smiled and nodded in approval at what was there. “that all seems accurate.”

newt rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to show you the tattoos on his arm. you smiled and silently laughed at what was there. along with you, there was also a sentence in the middle of everything. ‘standing up for what is right’. you smiled a bit more at it. “that seems accurate. and look, our puzzle pieces match. i guess there's no going back now.”

you both sat there talking about yourselves and finding more about the tattoos on your arms. you learned his love of creatures came from his mother; that she took care of hippogriffs while he was a child. he found out that the sparkling effect on his arm was for your passion of magic; you grew up with magical parents and magic and you’d always wanted to use magic.

meanwhile, jacob had wandered around enough and started to look for you two. he found you both in about ten minutes after getting lost a couple times (it was a big place for a suitcase, he couldn’t help it). he found you both there smiling and laughing with each other, and he couldn’t help but watch you. you both looked so naturally happy and looked like you both belonged together.

“hey, uh, mr. scamander! what’s the shadowy thing in that snowy place over there?”

a few months later, you were exploring the world with newt; discovering and writing about different magical species. he protected you from the creatures, and you protected him from jinxes and spells from harmful wizards.

with every moment you both spent with each other, the happier you became. you’d both gotten used to the times where you’d both run out of things to say to each other and just spend the time looking at each other, smiling. it was cliché and honestly, you’d been caught doing it in public where people just looked at you both weirdly. you’d just smile at each other then blushingly look away.

you’d formed an unspoken kind of form of conversation where you didn’t have to say anything, but you’d just understand what the other meant. it confused quite a few of the people you were around.

although, the ‘i love you’s never really went unspoken unless either of you need quiet. when one of you was really stressed with work or was having a bad day. when actions spoke louder than the words you could speak.

over the course of a year a new tattoo started to form. it was bigger than the rest of them, and it took up a large portion of both yours and newt’s arm. with each day that it slowly appeared, a shiver went down each your spines.

by the end of the year though, there was a new tattoo of each other. when you got home the day you found out, you hurried to newt’s suitcase and instantly climbed in.

you ran around the areas looking for him when you finally found him with the occamies whispering that their ‘mummy’ was there. you ran up and hugged him from behind, surprising him for a few seconds. “would you stop being a mother for a few seconds and show me your arm please?” you asked softly into his ear.

newt chuckled a little but nodded and rolled up the sleeve on his right arm just a little bit more. there, you were in all your own glory. you gasped a little at how much detail there was. “it finished late this morning. it looks inexplicably just like you.”

you giggled and took off your coat so you could show him yours. there, he stood with looking as handsome as ever. you pressed yourself up against his back and moved your arm into his eyesight. “don’t you look dashing, mr. scamander?”

newt shook his head and moved so that you were both facing each other. he took your arm carefully and looked at himself. “yeah, that seems accurate. it even has all my freckles!”

“yeah, i guess so.. now we’ll always be with each other even when we’re not together,” you said, smiling. newt looked at you in adoration.

“god, i’m in love with you,” newt sighed, smiling goofily at you.

you rolled your eyes at him and leaned in towards him. when your lips met, a shiver went down both of your spines and it felt like your fingertips were buzzing. this happened every time you touched, let alone kissed. although when you kissed it was even more unexplainable. there was so much going on, yet there was only a simple feeling.

you both rested your foreheads against each other. “yeah. seems accurate.”

#newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander imagine #newt scamander imagines #newt scamander scenario #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #hufflepuff #slytherin #hp #eddie redmayne #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them imagines #imagine #scenarios #imagines #1k

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paintingraves · 8 years ago

Text

Fire of devotion

Summary : Graves is Grindelwald’s soulmate. No one is happy to hear it.

Percival has always concealed his soul mark.

Many people did. Out of shame, out of a need for privacy, or simply because the space where the name was carved onto your skin was too visible.

For Graves it was a combination of all three. Graves’ mark appeared late, when he was starting his duties as a Senior Auror. Like many before him, he’d spent a night in agonizing pain as his own magic connected with the other person meant for him, searching them throughout the world and carving, burning, searing each letter onto him until Graves couldn’t breathe.

He passed out. When he woke up, Graves stumbled his way to the mirror in his bathroom and stared, for a long time, at the white scars starting at the hollow of his neck, just above his collarbone and stretching all the way up to his Adam’s apple.

It was a man. Graves felt neither hot nor cold with the revelation, having already come to terms with the fact that he liked both men and women, though he never spoke about the first inclination.

But he paled as he read who it was. It couldn’t be. There had to be a mistake. It couldn’t be.

Frantically, Graves summoned his wand to him, hand shaking as he dug the tip into his own skin, murmuring the strongest Glamour charm he could think of. Before his eyes, the mark faded and Graves’ skin was a blank canvas once again, the panic receding. Graves could almost believe he’d imagined it but for the name dancing behind his eyes, a reputation that had already reached the MACUSA.

His soulmate was a dark wizard.

Percival took to renewing the glamour charm every couple of hours, and worked on creating a stronger one. With time, he became even colder and harsher, working his subordinates to the bones and making his way up the ranks until he ended up as Head Auror and then Director Of Magical Security. He felt detached from reality as the President handed him his medal and his eyes swept over the room, settling on each face, the thunder of their applause loud in his ears. He swore to protect them, and he would do so even with broken knees and blood on his face, baring his teeth at the enemy.

And he did. He took his duty to heart, barking orders with one single goal in mind - protect. His country, his people, his government. His President.

Seraphina stood next to him, head held up high as they both watched the President’s portrait in the great hall of the MACUSA shimmer and fade to reveal her own face in the face of her victory in the elections.

“Congratulations,” Graves said. “There you are.”

“There we are,” Seraphina murmured. “Until we die.”

“Until we die,” Graves agreed.

In 1925, when whispers of Grindelwald’s heinous crimes spread to America, Graves felt himself slip further into the shadows. He bared his throat to the mirror, trying to scratch the name off of his skin and only leaving red marks upon the white scar. Nothing changed. The dark wizard was getting closer, and Graves had to do everything in his power to stop him.

It took nothing.

The panic of battle, the fear and denial at seeing another one of his Aurors die as Graves desperately screamed at them to hang on just a little longer, the smooth glide of his own scarf against the nape of his neck as Graves took it off to press the fine fabric against the wound in an effort to stop the blood flow. His hands were tinted red, Brien’s eyelashes fluttering and closing, his hand falling alongside his body, fingers curling in death. His chest still beneath Graves’ hands.

It took nothing.

A trip to the MACUSA to put the criminals in jail, a trip to the hospital to make sure the rest of his Aurors were safe and the injured taken care of -

And Tina’s widening eyes as she looked at his neck, where Graves had forgotten to renew his Glamour. Graves paced the waiting room at the hospital, waiting for news on the state of Katherine after the raid and failed to see Tina hurry to the bathroom, failed to see the Patronus light as Tina quickly sent a message to the President, failed to hear the whispered, “Mr. Graves’ soulmark is Gellert Grindelwald,” as Tina did what she felt was right.

What he didn’t miss was the group of Aurors making their way towards him in the middle of the hospital and gripping him, hard, by the shoulders, taking his wand away and cuffing him with magically enchanted restraints.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He asked, trying to sound calm and composed even though his mind was still reeling with everything that happened to him in the past hours.

Nobody answered him as they led him away, pushing hard and making him stumble on his feet as if he were a low life criminal. Graves locked his jaw, straightened his shoulders, fire in his eyes as he demanded to know what was going on.

They apparated. When Graves’ head stopped spinning he realized they were inside the MACUSA, making their way to the President’s office - or rather, the official interrogation room set up right next to it.

They pushed Graves inside and forced him to sit down on the heavily warded chair, ropes wrapping around his ankles and arms as he did so. Seraphina stared at him across the table, her gaze hard and unforgiving and with a start Graves realized that she wasn’t looking at him - but down at his neck. His heart stopped.

Fuck. The glamour. How could he forget …?

“Madam President, I -”

“Silence,” she said. “Get me the veritaserum and our legilimens,” she ordered to one of the Aurors, who nodded and hurried away. ““I strongly hope you’ve got a good explanation for this, Percival.”

“I didn’t choose,” Percival said. “You know how soulmarks work. I didn’t have a choice. I don’t want this.”

Seraphina sighed. “We have no way to know if you’re on his side or not. You could have been meeting him for years. You could have been giving him insight inside the MACUSA. If you have been in contact with him, he has everything he needs to destroy the MACUSA from the inside. Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because you know me, Seraphina,” Graves said disbelievingly. “I tried everything to get rid of the mark, but I can’t. I never met him, nor do I want to. He’s a criminal -”

“He’s your soulmate,” Seraphina insisted.

“He’s a criminal,” Graves repeated, louder, “A dark wizard who thinks murdering muggles is fun in the name of his fucked up ideals and I am not his. I never have been, and I never will be.”

And if his body and soul ached at the thought, then so be it.

The Veritaserum gave them nothing. The legilimens peered inside him, but Graves shied away from her the darkest thoughts he had and let her see all the rest. His loyalty to the MACUSA, his desire to protect, overriding everything else, and his disgust and shame towards the name etched onto his skin.

Gellert Grindelwald.

No, Graves thought. No.

After hours of interrogation, Seraphina looked at him with something akin to pity and ordered tiredly, “Take him to the cells.”

“What?” Graves said, head snapping up to meet her gaze even as he leaned forward in his chair, ignoring how the magical binds tightened around him. “You have all the proof you need. I never met him, I don’t want anything to do with him, I am the same as I always have been!”

“Percival, I have no doubts that he knows you’re there, and that he could come for you. We can’t let that happen, it is too much of a threat.”

“I would fight him.”

“You wouldn’t. When I met Oliver, the world aligned itself and nothing could have pulled me away from this man. Nothing. You don’t understand, Percival - hating your soulmate is impossible. Because as soon as you meet him, you will love him, no matter what he’s done in the past. I believe he’s kept away from you because he must be afraid of having such feelings what with his... ambitions, but one day he will come to America, and when he does I fear his curiosity will be too great. He will come for you.”

“Then what do you intend to do?” Percival laughed. “Keep me locked in a cell just in case Grindelwald decides to visit?”

Her silence is answer enough, and Graves sagged against the back of the chair. “But - you need me!”

“Take him to the cells,” Seraphina repeated, steeling herself. Graves felt hands on his shoulders, hoisting him up and away, and he twisted and struggled against them to keep his gaze locked with Seraphina’s.

“You need me! I gave my life to this institution and to the protection of the United States! I’m not a traitor, I never will be!”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Percival Graves,” Seraphina said, eyes moist. “You... just went away on a trying mission and in two weeks you will have resigned from office, in the face of the upcoming war.”

“They’ll never believe you!” Graves spat, expression twisted in the face of such betrayal. As much as he can understand her reasoning, she can’t just let him rot away, locked up until the end of the war. He will go mad.

“No one really knows you, Percival,” she said. “You never let anyone close. They will wonder, but eventually they will believe.”

“Fuck you,” Graves said, desperate. “You can’t do that, I have rights!”

There’s silence, and then the President said, “Cells. Bed, enchanted window, sink, toilets, water and food three times a day. Good bye, Percival - I’ll keep you informed on the situation.”

The Aurors finally Imperio him away from the room and down the corridors until they reach the lowest level of the MACUSA, deep underground, and Graves can already feel himself suffocate.

For the next six months, that’s where he stays.

Seraphina comes to give him updates and ask for his help on various matters at hand, as if there weren’t prison bars between them, as if they were still seated in her office peering together over paperwork and a map of Grindelwald’s progress in Europe.

“He’s getting closer,” she murmured, drawing his attention away from the book he’s already read a hundred times. His index finger ceases its relentless tapping against the hard edge of the book, and Graves looks at her, tucking a strand of hair behind his hair. It has grown longer.

“Is he now?”

“The new Director of Security is good, but he’s not you.”

“Ah,” Graves said, steepling his hands under his chin. “Does that mean you’re letting me out, then? Cease this ridiculous thing and let me have a fucking life?”

Her answer never changed. “No. It is more important than ever now that you stay here. We need to protect you”

Graves snorted. Bullshit. As if they cared about him.

When Seraphina spoke again Graves ignored her until she eventually gave up, the sound of her heels clicking on the floor as she walked away.

Maybe she is right to be worried, Graves thought.

He could feel it. A light in his chest, hope, burning brighter with each passing day as his soulmate came closer to where he was.

And Graves waited.

He woke up in the middle of the night to a pair of mismatched eyes staring back at him in the darkness of his cell, yet weirdly enough his heart didn’t jump with fright.

Instead, Graves smiled and sat up lazily on the bed as Grindelwald evaluated him. Stupidly, Graves wished he could look the way he did a few months prior - clean and sharp and powerful, instead of wearing a simple shirt and pants, stubble on his jaw and too long hair falling on his face.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing,” Grindelwald said softly, surprising him, and Graves’ smile widened despite himself. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Graves whispered back, tentatively reaching a hand out to touch Grindelwald’s face. “Took you long enough.”

He is in the same room as his soulmate for the first time in his life.

He never thought it would feel like this - this utter joy and righteousness bubbling inside him, threatening to overwhelm him. Grindelwald put his own hand over Graves’, turning his head slightly to kiss Graves’ palm and Graves’ breath hitched in his throat.

“My apologies,” Grindelwald said, voice low and mirth in his eyes. “I was busy changing the world. Come on, love. Get up. It’s time you leave this place.”

#percival graves #gellert grindelwald #grindelgraves #seraphina picquery #fantastic beasts and where to find them #so this was supposed to be ...... short ....... but im twelve pages in #u get the first six bc i wanted to post something anyway #unbetaed and its late and im tired so pls excuse the typos i will probably die when re-reading this tomorrow tbh #my fic

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