#how much more hate and fear will spread across this country in the coming years and what can i do to make the vulnerable feel safe and loved

[aggressionbread]

Canada sucks more and more every day

[leelee10898]

Dancing with our hands tied.

Book: TRR/ROE

Pairing: Leo x F!OC

Word count: 1,339

Warnings: swearing, but mostly fluff

Setting: This is a flash back to Leo's social season, before Madeline was chosen and before he ran off to go on a cruise.

A/N: Life has been super crazy, with the end of the school year, holidays and work I haven't had much time to write. I quickly got this together to post so, sorry for any errors. 😬

A/N 2: I have an idea for this to become a series of some sort. More details to come. Also as always if you'd like to be added to the tags, let me know.

This was written for @choicesflashfics using the prompts;

"How long have you been standing there?"

"You're allowed to fall apart a little."

"That's all I really want and need. Some time with just you "

Song inspiration:

The social season was well underway, just a few short weeks and he would be forced to choose a bride. Five suitors from five noble houses across the country and globe with Cordonian ties all vying for his hand. He should be gloating about having five women throw themselves at him, wanting a piece of whatever attention he chose to give, and under normal circumstances he would relish in it. He was dubbed the playboy prince after all but this was something else entirely.  The desperation in their voices when he spoke to them, some doing a better job than most if their words didn't give them away their faces told it all. He was trained to read people from a very young age, body language, and touch, all tell a story and these women wanted one thing, the crown. 

Leo stood in the middle of a crowded room speaking to Lady Jessica and her parents Lord and Lady Britton. Jessica was one of his suitors, as he listened to Lady Britton ramble on about being a suitor during Constantine's first social season, he felt the panic spread through his chest. Of course, she didn't leave out the part where Constantine chose his mother, the mother who couldn't cut it as a Royal and fled, leaving him behind. Lord Britton seemed to have enough of his wife's antics he cleared his throat at the mention of Lady Britton's talents of playing the flute. 

"Yes, Our Jessica is also very talented in the musical area. She mastered playing the piano at the age of four. Isn't that right, Jessica?" He turned his attention towards his daughter. 

"Why yes, Father. That is correct. I am also skilled in archery, ballet, and painting." She answered right on cue, giving a shy smile and batting her eyes. 

"All wonderful skills a wife should possess, wouldn't you agree your highness?" Lord Britton's attention was now on him. 

"Why yes, Lord Britton. I agree, all wonderful talents." Leo politely answered, desperate to find a way out of his current conversation. 

"Splendid?" Lord Britton laughed before turning serious.  "The end of the social season is quickly approaching, if I may be so bold as to ask, have you made a decision yet?" 

The panic now had spread throughout his body, his nerve endings were tingling and his hands began to sweat. "No. I have not come to a decision yet." Leo carefully chose his words, "The decision does not come lightly, choosing Cordonias next queen is something to be taken seriously, I intend to take careful consideration in choosing my future bride." He settled on a quick, sharp answer, in hopes to shut him up; it seems to have worked as he watched the fear flash before lord Britton's eyes. He nodded stiffly. "Of course your highness." 

Leo hated making small talk with the suitor's parents, his eyes did a quick scan of the room and finally, he spotted his out. 

"Now if you will excuse me, there is a matter that requires my attention." Leo cut the conversation off at the knees, he turned to leave, "Lord Britton, Lady Britton, Lady Jessica." He nodded to the three quickly walking through the ballroom and disappearing behind a door on the far side. He walked down the long hall and into one of the studies his father often used to discuss private matters during events.

He stripped his jacket off immediately, tossing it onto the floor, loosening his tie as he paced the room. Breathing in and out he gripped a hold of the tie yanking it free from his neck. Leo walked over to the bar cart and poured a large glass of scotch, quickly letting the contents burn its way down his throat. 

"It's too much. To much. I, Im not cut out for this. I can't do this." He began to pace, grabbing a fist full of his hair and letting out a frustrated growl.  He turned, stopping dead in his tracks to find a beautiful brunette standing there with a nervous look on her face. Lady Ava was attending the social season with her uncle, one of Constantine's Allies from Australia. She and Leo had grown close during the season, and while she wasn't one of his suitors, he still found ways to be around her. 

"I'm sorry, I. I should go." Ava stammered, averting her eyes. 

"How long have you been standing there?" Leo breathed out. 

"Not long." She quickly answered, casting her eyes to the side. 

"Long enough I'm sure." He let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Well, I guess you'll be running for the hills now. Now that you know what a freak show I am." 

"Is that what you want?" Her question threw him off, guard.  It wasn't a question he was asked often, no one took into consideration his wants. 

"I don't understand." Her question confused him. 

"I didn't think it was a hard question." Ava closed the door and made her way across the room. "Do you want me to leave? Is that what you want?" 

Leo stood there staring at her. Out of all his suitors, she was the only one he made a real connection with only she wasn't a suitor. "No." He finally answered. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" She questioned and he shook his head. 

"What do you want me to say? I fell apart, I lost my composure, I cracked under pressure, what a fucking great king I'll make." He let out another sarcastic snort. 

Ava closed the distance between them, "You're allowed to fall apart a little." She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Even the best of us fall apart sometimes, I know this has to be hard, I can't begin to imagine what you are going through. I know this isn't what you wanted out of life." 

"It isn't but, it's what I was born to do, literally. I don't get a say, what I want doesn't matter. I don't get time to myself. " He turned away to stare out the window. 

"It matters to me." She spoke and he turned to look at her again. "Is that what you want? Time alone? Because right now, you're not in a ballroom, it's just the two of us." 

Leo crossed the room closing the distance between the two of them. He reached out softly cupping her face with his hands. "That's all I really want and need. Some time with just you." He lowered his voice, eyes searching her face.

"Leo." She breathed out, closing her eyes. 

"You're the only one who gets me here, you see me as more than a crown." Leo lifted her chin forcing her to look at him. 

"Because you are more than a crown. You're more than all of this." She motioned around to nothing.  "At the end of all of this, when you make your choice, Just remember that the crown doesn't make the man. You can shape yourself and this country in whatever way you see it." Ava smiled at him and with that Leo leaned in claiming her lips in a soft kiss, before pulling away and resting his forehead on hers. 

"I do not know what the next few weeks will hold," he spoke. "But just know that you are special to me, Ava." 

Ava wrapped her arms tightly around Leo's waist. The two stayed that way for a few minutes before reluctantly pulling apart. 

"We should probably get back before someone notices we are both missing. What a scandal that would cause." She giggled.  

"If it's a scandal you're looking for, I can arrange for something more worth it than a hug." Leo waggled his brows which earned and eye roll. 

"You sir, are diabolical. Now Let's go." She motioned towards the door. 

"Its all I have going for me and wouldn't want to be any other way." Leo shrugged and smiled. He wasn't sure who he would end up with at the end of the season but he would hold her memory for a lifetime.

@kingliam2019 @ao719 @emichelle @annabellewynter @twinkleallnight  @tessa-liam @riseandshinelittleblossom @blackcatkita @katedrakeohd @tinkie1973 @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @lovingchoices14 @indiana-jr @txemrn @bascmve01 @queenwalton @sfb123 @umccall71 @choicesficwriterscreations

[bastart13]

I’ve had a lot of fun recently coming with with female mercenary characters for TF2. I really liked where the concept art was going with making them all individual characters rather than simply “if the characters were women”

The design style is fantastic for distinct simplicity so I tried limiting myself to basic colours and shapes to make these

and I’m pretty confident they pass the silhouette test!

Character names/bios under the cut!

Heavy

Name: Marie Jarrett

Age: Mid 30s-40s

Height: 6’5

Nationality: American (Hawai’i)

Bio: Raised in Hawai’i, growing up she developed more and more drastic measures to fend off the tourists swarming her home. Land mines, electric gates, guard dogs, none could stop them for long until she picked up her trusty minigun to send her message. But even still, she hears the click of cameras in the night.

Eventually, she left her home to explore the world. Enthralled with the image of seeing different wonders across different countries, she’s always disappointed. She’s travelled every continent and still finds nothing that lives up to her expectations. No place, no person. She’s outgoing and open to new experiences, only she usually hates them.

Mercenary life is a great opportunity to earn money, see sights, meet new people and kill them after they don’t meet your expectations. She hates New Mexico and takes every opportunity to destroy the buildings and insult her employer’s tastes. She finds some people she tolerates within the mercenaries as she hasn’t yet visited where they live. However much she hides it, she has a deep, instinctual fear of the Engineer.

  Soldier

Name: Linda Smith

Age: Early 40s

Height: 5’10

Nationality: Canadian

Bio: Canada’s perfect woman… or so she claims. The star of war propaganda posters and clearly decided for the role because of her great tactical assets. She’s there to motivate people into the fight. To spread the glory of Canada and inspire her allies. She believes she has higher orders than anyone else she’s working for (ignoring the fact she hasn’t heard from them for a good few years) and is determined to follow them to the letter. She may have lost the letter but she remembers it good enough.

She represents the ideals of Canada: polite, friendly, apologetic, and pacifistic. None of these are contradicted by how she throws around rockets. That’s not what Canada means. She’s superior to everyone around her and graciously educates them on how to improve through example. She loves her French and British allies and will kindly tell the Americans how to be better.

She’s motivating and actually fairly competent, it’s just that competency might be misdirected. She’s damn good at rocket jumping, shooting her shotgun, and supporting her team, it’s just that you really need to get it in her head when she’s meant to be doing it.

Scout

Name: Patricia “Pat” Herald

Age: 50s-60s

Height: 5’4

Nationality: English

Bio: In her years, Patricia has learnt fear… and she’s learnt to laugh in its face. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, ready to leave at the drop of a hat, boots polished and laced the night before. Her years have taught her that with a gun and Jeremy by her side, she can survive!

The postal route of Appleby-in-Westmorland.

She’s been chased by geese, dogs, cows, elderly ladies, and when her postal route had her delivering post during the war, she developed a taste for blood. Nothing will stop her from delivering her post on time. Every day before 6am, every postbox will have their letters and parcels. One chucked across barbed wire, another house jumped over a river, another house miles into the country with dogs on her heels, she WILL get there and she’ll get there FAST.

But after a couple of decades, she needs a change of scenery, and the Gravels wars are just the holiday she’s needed. With her trusty black and white cat by her side (ignoring the yowling and scratches) she reckons it’ll be great time to enjoy herself.

Quotes: “Oh, hello, Human Jeremy.”

“Bloody fucking Ethel! Building her house out in the country… surrounded by bloody hills and rivers!”

Pyro

Name: Nikephoros Papadopoulos

Age: Late 20s

Height: 5’11

Nationality: Greek

Bio: Survival of the fittest. Nature gives and nature taketh away. If you’re not prepared for that, well, Pyro is more than happy to teach you the lesson. They embody the old values of the Greek gods: f*ck or fire. She indulges her every whim and unfortunately for the people around her it often involves arson.

One year for the Olympic games, she was given the noble title of torchbearer. On complete coincidence, the Olympics shifted to primarily water sports. Underwater sprints became the hot new trend!

She’s merry and chatty, never missing the opportunity to talk to other people about herself and her world view. She can’t wait to spread her gospel to help other people improve themselves (though she always gets a laugh out of those who go out screaming in the flames). She can’t help it if she has a sadistic side.

Engineer

Name: Mikawo Kojima

Age: Early 20s

Height: 5’0

Nationality: Japanese

Bio: Japan’s early-rising industrial revolutions in technology are best exemplified in Mikawo, a young upstart determined to rise to the top, learning everything she can and building the best of the best. Unfortunately, she’s never been the most creative but when you happen upon other people’s blueprints and happen to construct them first, what does it matter who came up with the “concept”?

At first, she appears to be every bit the quiet and demure young woman people expect, only when silk hides steel, that steel is a massive automatic sentry gun. She’s motivated by a distinct contempt for the people who get in her way. Especially those who try to be better than her. She enjoys the flexibility of English, especially the cusses, and she has no reservations about swearing up a storm, even if she still refuses to give a straight rejection, preferring instead to give a small “I’ll think about it.”

Quotes: “This GUN is fair use on your head!”

Demo

Name: Qingzhao Zeng

Age: Late 40s

Height: 5’3

Nationality: Chinese

Bio: The Zeng family has a long-standing family trade in demolitions and explosives, traced down the line all the way to the Song dynasty. Luckily, Qingzhao has sisters so, you know, it’s not all that important. She doesn’t even have to stop smoking and drinking. She hasn’t blown herself up (that much) so clearly, it’s working. Precision is for other people to worry about. She’s apathetic to a T, having seen everything. Measurements come from the heart. A pinch of gunpowder there, a splash of paint there.

Her family has a deep-seated rivalry with the DeGroots. Long ago in ancient China, a Zeng matriarch woke up in a cold sweat, a message from the stars to let them know of their Scottish rivals. Due to being a continent away from each other, the families have actually met each other only a handful of times, but the hatred needs to be kept up because, what if?

Turns out, Qingzhao has met Tavish even before finding employment under the Mann brothers. One drunken night, the two of them had a short, whirlwind friendship, sharing secrets and declaring each other to be their best friends. Luckily for them, they both forgot the night, merrily hating each other as tradition dictates. However, headaches and flashes of this terrible night haunt them both. Could they really get over centuries of hate and become friends?

Absolutely not.

Sniper

Name: Ansa Aaltonen

Age: 27

Height: 6’2

Nationality: Finnish

Bio: Snow. Sugar. Cocaine.  Her life is run by many white powders. Ansa is a professional sniper, with a sharp eye and a steady hand… when she isn’t also high as a kite, lost in the snowy wilderness of Finland and screeching to the sky. When you’re up in the dark and cold, you need something to give you a little pep in your step. It just so happens Ansa liked having a bit more pep than most.

She’s there for a THRILL. There’s nothing better to get your heart pumping at 200 beats per second than a good headshot, embracing the chill, and a hit of sugar. She no longer feels the cold or heat or even pain, shrugging it off until she collapses. It just makes her feel alive. She’s efficient, fast, and determined to get her kicks.

She has an unusual taste, living off fermented fish and tree bark. To most people around the Finnish wilderness, she’s nothing more than an urban legend, but she’s very real and she’s looking for some excitement, happily found in employment in the Gravel wars.

Spy

Name: Yvonne Pleshette [Real name N/A]

Age: 30s

Height: 5’8

Nationality: American (California)

Bio: The silver screen calls to his woman and she’s happy to answer. She trains herself to act in every possible role she can, having a wide range of accents, body languages, and backstories. To truly test herself, she gave up her identity long ago. Lately she’s been going by the name “Yvonne.”

The world of Hollywood is cutthroat and full of backstabbers so she learnt to cut throats and stab backs. While some people tell her the terms are metaphorical, nothing else has given her more roles. Living the mercenary life is simply gathering research for her roles (and earning some much-needed money in the process).

She presents herself as a classic film star, despite being a minor name at best, mostly because she’s always changing it. She has high standards but a cheapskate personality. She’s a bit of a bitch, happily criticising others, especially if they’re working with her. What can she say? She’s a diva.

[Slutshames other spy]

Quotes: “Ugh, actors these days, they know nothing about getting into character. They still have names.”

“’AHHHHH—’ Wait, no. Once more from the top. Scream in agony.”

Medic

Name: Susan Monks

Age: 30-40s

Height: 5’7

Nationality: American (New Jersey)

Bio: The American Healthcare system. Is there a more glorious sight? The exploitation of pain. The money. The debt. The fear it strikes into the entire population it’s designed to help. To Susan, there’s nothing better. She squeezes every last drop from the people she helps, working on a purely transactional lifestyle. She’ll never help someone unless she has all of their insurance information and the payment secure in her bank, and god forbid she ever accept help. It’s not like she can afford her own prices.

She’s very self-aware of her own corruption and proud of it, though she refuses to be exploited in the same way, suspicious of anything “free” but also doing her best not to pay for anything.

That said, she doesn’t much care for how good a job she does. In her eyes, asking for surgery is one thing. Asking for successful surgery is another. She has a variety of skills in both cosmetic and military medicine. She just wishes the license board would stop sending her “malpractice” letters. Ugh, stick to your own business. “Disappearing” all their messengers is becoming a pain.

Quotes: “Why get someone else to do something for you when you can scrounge a way to do it yourself?”

[bokettochild]

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones

Angst! My Beloved!

Not a lot of whump here, but I put Wild through the wringer!!! Lots of BotW2 ideas and concepts here, but nothing really cannon.

Also, disclaimer: I think Flora is a wonderful person, a bit harsh and sometimes unkind, but I feel for her a lot. The prompt submitted to me however asked for her as an ass, so that's what's here, for angst reasons. THIS IS NOT HOW I PLAN ON WRITING HER NORMALLY!!!

When Wild left the Chain behind in the woods, it was with a soft smile and a hesitant wave of his right hand. It was with a gentle ‘See y’all later’ that made Warriors shake his head with a sigh while Twilight offered a wobbly grin.

He would join them again, he knew that. After all, Hylia wouldn’t have chosen him to go with them in the first place if he was only supposed to leave before they’d even really started to know what it was that they were meant to be doing.

He’d see them again, and he’d fall back into a routine with all of them, sparring with Warriors and teaching Hyrule to cook and shield surfing with Wind and learning to carve from Sky. He’d go back to sewing with Legend, to exploring with Hyrule, to learning the Ocarina with Time and teasing Twilight about his terrible singing. He could work with Four on the Sheikah Slate and experimenting with different plants he’d gathered. He would see them again, and he’d go back to being busy and smiling nearly every day.

For the time being however, he had to square his shoulders and harden his jaw as he stepped through the swirl of black that had repulsed all the others every time they tried to enter. He had to tame his mind and wild spirit and come to stand before the Princess of Hyrule in all of her stern glory and receive the scolding he was due for wandering off without permission.

He never had time to question what she meant by being gone for ‘two whole weeks’ before she was marching off towards the labs and explaining that there was a new task for them to complete.

Such a task was one that left in his mind no time for thoughts of his brothers save on the lonely nights in the sky when the islands above the clouds were silent save for the birds about him that reminded him of Sky, or when he ran across the forests and was reminded of the wolf that once ran at his side. And, alright, the tiny people in the grass and the fountains reminded him of Four and Hyrule. When the wind sang strong in his ears as he dove towards the earth from the highest places in the sky, he couldn’t help but envision a small hero whose laughter danced like the sea and who’s fingers mastered the currents of wind and sea both.

It was a lonely quest, just like his last before it, but somehow it was more painfully so, now that he knew what it was to have brothers at his side to catch a monster’s blade when he was too slow or to help him patch himself up afterwards. It was quiet when the Princess and he sat around the fires as night, she studying him as he sat still and stonelike as she worked.

The hand that had waved goodbye to his brothers now flickered green and ethereal in the night shades, iron bands clinging to the wisping appendage and acting as a bond to hold its form together. It was nothing like what he’d known or studied in the Sheikah technology, or even what he’d seen from the many worlds he’d traveled with the other, and it earned many a stare and twist of the lips from those he met and traded with during his journey.

The arm was only the first of many changes, it’s power seeping through his body and altering him before he even knew what was happening. He’d hated it at first, disliking how it changed him, made his eyes glow and his hair touch with the same ethereal shades, red bleeding through at the roots and earning him even more wary looks.

Ganon, in all his terrifying power, had been a surprising comfort during the quest, an aid to discovering his new abilities and training them to bend to his own will. The Princess had been wary of their relationship, but had accepted it when she saw what he learned to do, and every evening she would require a report of his newfound skills, as well as the occasional demonstration or examination.

It all came to an end both too soon and not soon enough.

Ganon was gone, as if he’d never been there at all, and the Princess was as cold as ever even after their second adventure at each other's sides. And now there was no use for the abilities that had fused to his soul like the arm had to his flesh. He’d asked Purah if there was something that could be done to restore his body to its normal Hylian state, without the glowing limb that earned his only stares and insults from the village people, but the Princess had overheard it and declared that such a thing should not even be attempted.

“You don’t understand, Link. Don’t be foolish! We have here a scientific marvel ready for our investigation and exploration and you want to get rid of it just because it looks odd?”

He’s shuffled his feet slowly, resisting the impulse to rub at his chest where the Hylian part of him ended and the eldritch horror began. “I can’t live like  Hylian anymore.”

“Because you aren’t one!” Her Highness rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Sir Knight, after everything I certainly doubt that Hylian even applies to you anymore! Hylians do not possess the qualities that you now do, and they most certainly do not travel through stone or time or any other such thing at will. Think would you! You’re something else entirely, and I intend to find out what that is!”

Purah had frowned at that, eyes full of sorrow as they met his own with an apologetic sigh. But there was nothing the de-aged scientist could really say against the royal Sovreign of Hyrule, not as a Sheikah sworn to the service of the royal family. The woman/girl had offered him a sympathetic pat on the head later after climbing up to reach high enough to do so, as well as a few dumplings that Paya had sent on her grandmother’s behalf the day before. It was a welcome gesture, but amounted to so little on the grand scale of life. Not when so many others he had once called his friends had so blatantly rejected the mere sight of him.

Bolson and the other carpenters shied away from him with harsh whispers as they spat insults across the distance.

‘Half-blood’.

‘Gerudo Bastard’.

‘Freak’.

‘Demon’.

There were favorite insults spread from stable to stable and up and coming village to up and coming town and slowly all of Hyrule knew of the monster that had once been the hero. Gossip abounded, and he couldn’t even turn to shield his face with his hood without drawing attention to his arm.

It was only the koroks that welcomed him, themselves all too accustomed to the strange and ethereal. Them and the blupees.

Maybe it was the knowledge of how it felt to be shot at for his oddness that allowed him to ease into the graces of the flighty animals. And maybe it was his lonely heart crying for comfort, but when nestled in their midst, it almost reminded him of how it felt to be hugged by the salty veteran, on the rare occasional that the pink-haired hero had let down his guard.

The fairy’s tangled themselves in his hair and the blupees gathered at his feet, koroks dancing around him and flying to his side as if he was some sort of forest god, but the strange rise of his spirits in their presence shattered the instant a traveler caught sight of him.

Arrows and fire, once his favorite of weapons, were turned against him as words in every language of the New Hyrule had burst from the mouths of its people, and like his namesake, he ran before them, darting through the forest and fading in amidst the trees, hiding, incorporeal and translucent within the halls of the forest as those he’d once seen as allies pushed him away.

He’d begged the new Queen for aid, for relief or even just a word to the people that he wasn’t the evil they had come to think he was, but she only waved him aside with a purse of her lips. “You are not meant to be here without first asking.” The Child of Hylia declared, eyes as cold as the Shrine’s waters themself. “And why should I make a declaration on behalf of a man who refuses to even speak to me properly? You come groveling like a worm, yet for years it was I who you ignored. See how it feels, Sir Hero, to be the one left helpless at the hands of the country. Know what it is to be scorned by those who you thought would love you.”

He’d barely made it out of the window before the trainee guards of the newly repaired Hyrule Castle had caught him and Queen Zelda Diana Hyrule had stared after him with eyes colder than Hebra’s tallest peaks.

It was the Father Tree -the Deku Tree as the Queen had called it, but the koroks laughed at him for using the name, so he’d adjusted in kind- who suggested that he hide the changes, and he’d begun to wander Hyrule as much as possible to find the materials he would have needed.

The Queen still required his presence regularly so she could inspect him; her love of science no ways tainted as to stop her from ordering him to appear regularly, as there was now no need or safety in his acting as her guard. The Queen sought her people’s respect, and to employ such a being as himself, not Hylian and not quite mortal, would be to spark fear in the people. Indeed, when he skirted villages, he would wince at word of ‘the queen’s monster’ as gossip was traded. Those who didn’t see him themselves knew him as a beast of feral nature who lived amid the lost woods and destroyed any who came close.

“A specter that glows with the light of the shrines.” They would tell each other over campfires. “It has eyes like a ghost, empty and lost, with no care for humanity or Hylia’s chosen. They say it was once the Hero of this world, but he died ages ago.”

“I heard it’s the body, possessed by a being beyond this realm, a monster escaped from the edges of reality that tried to hide in our midst but corrupted it’s host so that it only scares away others, leaving it roam the earth in a shattered body. If you get too close to it though, it’ll take your instead.”

He’d stayed away from towns after that.

The blupees and koroks had been happy to help him to find what he needed to hide among the Hylians should he wish though, and two in particular guided him; the korok swinging little twigs like they were batons and humming swinging little shanties as it hopped along the path, the blupee snorting softly and nipping at his heels when he wandered too far, unnatural purple eyes staring up at him with something that was fondness and a reprimand all at once, and in their care he’d made his way across the land of Hyrule to find what would be needed to return to his once life.

The fairies and their Great cousins had been welcome help, and in time, he’d been able to walk amid the populace of Hyrule like any other, as long as he kept a long cloak about him and his hair pulled back to hide where the roots would begin showing again in gold and ethereal blue.

Once Hyrule had talked about needing to hide in his world, about the curse that followed him and made the Hylian people afraid. He’d thought it bizarre and ridiculous of the people at the time, but now he understood what it was to live it.

When the portal opened beneath his feet the day that the Queen had reprimanded him for concealing and potentially damaging the strange limb, startling the Skeikah scientists and Queen both, he’d nearly cried tears of relief.

He was going away, somewhere where he wasn’t a science project and where, unless they traveled to his world’s future, no one would know how much he had changed. His copy of the slate had enough hair dye to last him a few months, and he was certain he could make more over time, and as long as he continued wearing the tunics and gloves the fairies had helped him to adjust to hide the glow the others would probably never catch on. Or well, he could extend it anyway.

His brothers greeted him with open arms and teary eyes, and in a strange parallel to his adventure, he found himself thinking of blupees when Legend had curled against him, stiff and cold on the outside, but with fingers that clutched his tunic just a bit too tight to really be reluctant. And Four, Hyrule and Wind’s exuberant hugs and chatter brought to mind tiny forest people and koroks with twigs for batons.

It was good to be home.

It was good to cook for other people again, and they were glad to have him cook for them, even if his fondness for both Gerudo spiced dishes and fae like sweet things had increased exponentially during his newest adventure. It was good to fight at their sides, even if it was strange to once again have to take others into account before he could select a weapon. It was good to sit around a fire and talk with the others too, but that was perhaps the hardest one; it had been ages since he’d had a proper two-way conversation with anything other than a tree or a korok, and neither of those was good at either staying awake or staying focused for very long.

There were some harder things to adjust to though. Fire, for one. Unlike before when he’d have been happy to burn an enemy camp to the ground, now he was wary of using faming weapons or spreading heat further than necessary. The same went for hunting; he couldn’t bring himself to shoot an animal unless it attacked first or they needed the meat it would provide, and even then, he felt a bit bad for doing so. Is this what Twilight had felt like? Is this why the rancher never liked hunting? Because he too knew what it was like to be on the other end of the bow?

But the hardest thing by far to readjust to was his name.

‘Wild’ they had called him again, and after months of ‘the wild one’, ‘wild beast’, ‘monster’ and every other insult, slur or title that had been used on him, it made him flinch ever so slightly at the words. And unlike the other things where his brothers dismissed it as a change caused by his adventure or an increase of maturity, it was something that the others seemed to either not notice or to excuse as situational.

He had adapted though, learned to keep a smile on his face where blankness had once been required in his knightly duties, and the more he wore the mask the easier it was to put on again.

He’d reveled in traveling across time again, in dancing through battles and exploring the world without the Queen reprimanding him in her cold tones to stop wandering off. He’d pushed himself to learn more music in the last adventure, and even if his experience was more with what few instruments Ganon had had time to help him learn, he’d enjoyed sitting down with the others and borrowing one or another instrument to play a tune and sometimes he even got to sing.

He fell to comfortably into his role though, even with the changes, and he hadn’t even noticed when they’d come back to his world. To be fair, it was different in the daytime, and Hyrule had changed so much in the absence of her hero as he hid himself away from the eyes of civilization. Towns and roads had sprung up where there had only been fields before, and the Guardians that had littered the land had all been dug up and hauled to the castle to be either restored or destroyed by the Sheikah, depending on what Queen Zelda decided after she looked at them herself. The world was so different to him, so unlike that which he knew, that he’d failed to keep as alert as he ought to have been when he wandered about an open market with the others, laughing and chattering away with the other younger ones as Time and Legend herded them towards the needed stalls.

It was a traveler that was his downfall, a man who’d seen the Monster Hero and had been among the first to discover the disguise he wore.

No questions were asked when the word spread, and Wild hadn’t caught on to the whispers until a stone had struck his cheek and he was stumbling forwards on the path.

“Wild!” Twilight was at his side in a minute, Time right after him as Legend launched a barrage of insults at the guilty party who’d thrown the thing.

“’m fine.” He was careful to wipe the blood away with his cloak, holding the fabric to the wound to prevent bluish blood seeping down his face and exposing him to his brothers. He wanted to keep them as long as possible and proving himself to be a monster, not even Hylian, would surely have them turning their backs on him.

“Get away from him!” A woman scolded, grabbing ahold of two of the younger heroes while several other shoppers had like ways grabbed Legend and Sky. “Are you dears alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Freaking what?” Legend shrieked. “Who’s the injured party here?”

“I’d avoid that thing, son.” A man huffed through a frankly walrus like mustache, eyes hard as they trailed to where Wild stood, cloak still pressed to his cheek as he attempted to wave off a fussing Twilight and Time. “It’s not natural. Sure, it looks like a normal Hylian, but that’s just an effective ruse.”

Another villager nodded. “It’s one of the Calamity’s puppets, a Gerudo-Bastard set on destroying the kingdom!”

“He’s the freaking hero!” Legend shrieked, barely being held back by a steely eyed Sky. “He saved all your freaking asses and all you can do is insult his flipping guts? Who’s the-”

“Enough.” There were few times that Sky’s voice reached levels worse than Twilight’s growls, but the stern command, regal and firm, froze all present as the man stiffened with a cold nod towards the villagers. “I see we are unwelcome here, and with that being the case it would be wise to spend our rupees elsewhere. Legend,” A tug to the boy’s shoulders. “Let’s join the others and be out of their hair. If they cannot be welcoming and kind to our brother than they will not receive our patronage.” And like a swan gathering it’s cygnets, Sky swept down the street, cape fluttering as he ushered the rest of them out of the town and back to the safety of the wilds. The village stared after them with wide eyes, as if they’d just been judged by a breathing god.

The stiffness in Sky’s shoulders faded as they neared the edge of the forest, and instantly the Chosen Hero been tutting over Wild, gently but firmly prying his hand away from his face with a kind smile that almost set Wild at ease. Almost.

“It’s fine, it’s just a scrape.”

“Still.” Sky crooned softly. “I’d rather we clean it up now and make sure it’s nothing worse than let it sit and get infected later.”

And though he’d tried to fight, his single Hylian hand was no match for the firm grip of the Skyloftian, and within minutes his face was exposed to the shocked faces and flickering eyes of his brothers.

“It’s blue...” Wind breathed as Hyrule darted forwards, hands already glowing softly only for them to stutter to a stop over Wild’s skin.

“It’s... Wild, why is your blood- why is-” The healer’s eyes had flickered golden for a moment, wide as they stared up at him. “What happened to you-”

“What the freak!” Legend had startled, blinking in surprise as he stared. “Your eyes are glowing!”

Shit! The healing properties of the arm had already taken affect and it was making everything act up all weird! He shot a glance down at his arm, one hand raising to tangle in the long hair he couldn’t even see at the moment, praying silently beneath his breath that nothing was showing through. It wasn’t, but that didn’t change how Hyrule had come to fixate on his right arm, or how the healer's fingers hovered over it sparking and eyes twinkling as he whispered softly under his breath.

“Wild.” Time had sighed. “I think this one is going to need an explanation.”

All the breath left his lung in instants.

He’d panicked to say the least and Time had eventually shooed the others away to make camp as the eldest hero had sat at his side, waiting silently for him to regulate his breathing. Touch was too much right now, and any attempts from the others to ease him down or help him level out his breathes had only made him panic more. But when at last his blue eyes blinked back to clarity it was to see Time sitting at his side, a gentle tune wafting from the Ocarina at his lips.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, trying his hardest not to startle Time or otherwise make the situation worse. “I should have said something, I know. I just- missed being Wild and I wanted to come back and be normal and I didn’t want to-”

“It’s alright.” Time’s voice rumbled softly, a single blue eye turning to him with a pained look, even as the man offered him a hint of a smile. “None of us talk about our adventures either.”

“Yes, but you’re people.” He sighed, rubbing the fingers of his glove together. “You’re allowed to choose things.”

There was pain in Time’s voice when their leader answered. “And you’re not?”

“I’m not Hylia anymore.” He whispered. “I don’t count.”

“You count to us.”

“That’s because you don’t know.”

Time shifted, turning to face him fully as the ocarina was set firmly in the grass. “That’s because you’re family and we care. Wild, I don’t care if Demise himself named you the king of the dead, you’re still my kid and Nayru knows I’m not going to let you go without a fight. If that means fighting you, alright, but you’d best better believe that no amount of physical or mental changes will break the bonds we all have with you.”

Something, something damaged and crushed and stitched up and torn open again clenched inside of him, tears pricking at his eyes as he stared up at Time’s royal blue gaze. “W-what?”

“You could be granted godhood, made a monster, I don’t care. You’re ours and you’ll have to deal with that.” Time smiled, warm even with the pain in his eyes as he looked down at him. “So how about you start again, maybe with the facts rather than the insults. Or,” Time softened, brows furrowing lightly. “If you want, we can just sit here and you can choose to talk about this later. We do need to know, so we can help you and keep you safe, but you don’t have to tell us right now. You can take some time to figure out what you want to say if you need.”

And, well, shoot him, but Time’s arms had always been a safe place and there was one thing he’d wanted more than anything since he had come back. Wild threw himself into his grand-mentor's arms with a soft sob, clutching tightly to the other, ignoring the armor and its sharp points and awkward shapes as he tried to hold back all the emotions swirling in his chest.

Time’s arms folding around him broke the floodgates though, and when the man’s hand had stroked through his shortened hair, he’d had to bury his face in Tim’s neck to muffle his sobs.

“There, there,” Time hummed softly, rocking slowly as he held the broken wild hero. “Let it out, little one. I have you, I’ve got you and I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

[god1ngs]

━‎ end of the world

synopsis; a forbidden love told for generations

contains; human reader, major character death, swearing, mentions of war, spoilers

god c!technoblade / reader, 3.4k wc

note; the title doesn't make much sense but whatever lol ,, this is for @mayasimagines 's 600 event! congratulations and i hope you like this :)

   throughout the fall of countries, the crumbling of empires, there stood a man. he gazed upon the vast land, the grass stained red. buildings had crashed down, debris staining the area around them. they layed in heaps of piles, taller than most. the fallen down buildings had been a sign of the empire's loss.

   there was no one alive to commemorate the loss however.

   screaming rung inside of his head, shouting and yelling, with some other tones mixed in. displeased and ecstatic and mocking tones blended together, sounds of chaos lingering in the mind of the man. he only sighed, walking away from the destroyed country.

   he's seen this happen too many times before, the repetitive cycle of watching a country build itself only to come crashing down years later. they never lasted long. always the one for chaos, he sometimes participated in the destruction of the countries, though most times he didn't need to.

   humans were savage, brutal creatures who only cared about themselves. by studying their nature, the way they go about certain scenarios, he had figured out that much. selfish, twisted beings who would betray each other in a heartbeat. all it took was more wealth or a promise of better gear.

   how easily swayed they were. technoblade sneered, his red cape dragging beneath him as he stalked the hallways. pillars of quartz, chipped at the edges from years of standing, lined the hallway. they reached the ceiling, some even going higher. the magnificent red carpet he stalked down had ended at a throne.

   a throne made of gold, the shiniest material he could get his servants to find. emeralds and diamonds and rubies lined the top of it, the same jewels lining the gold of his crown. at last, he sat down, the voices calming down at the familiar seating area. they always got loud whenever there was destruction.

   technoblade, the blood god. also known as the god of war and chaos to many, he wasn't very popular among the peaceful people. people often worshipped him for protection, to which he rarely granted. protection from him, a god of war, was seldom. often he didn't care about the hunans enough to waste his protection on them.

   yet, one mortal, had caught his eye. they were nothing too special, middle class and usually someone technoblade wouldn't even spare a glance at. they were different though. they outshined any ray of sun, their smile proving to be the brighter of the two. he found them, despite all odds, very interesting.

   later, after wine and more sparring, the man had caught wind of philza coming over. philza, the angel of death, had been one of technoblade's good allies, even so far as to consider the blond a friend. he brought saints to their knees in their final moments, allowing them either an eternity in hell or a peaceful life above.

   he wanted to meet them, and technoblade always gets what he wants.

   even before technoblade had become the god he is now, forever cursed to watch humanity rip itself apart, he knew philza. the two fought wars together, never straying from their path of loyalty. the blond perched himself on the windowsill, his striking white wings folding on his back, as he smiled at the other. "hello technoblade." he greeted, ever the polite man.

   technoblade only scoffed, shaking his head with an amused grin. "please, phil," he drawled, looking from his red wine to the angel of death. "no need for the formalities. just call me techno." the blond threw his head back with a laugh, wide smile painting his features as the other chuckled. "of course, mate."

   silence washed over the pair for a moment, a comforting silence that allowed them to bask in the moment od seeing each other. they didn't get to visit often, one thing they mutually hated about being in the sky palace, usually swamped with other duties. philza with guiding people to the afterlife, and technoblade with causing conflict.

   "i actually wanted to talk about somethin' with ya, mate." phil broke the silence, hopping off of the marble windowsill to come lean against one of the pillars. the pink haired man, ever so interested, hummed questionably. "and what did you want to speak to me about? come on, spit it out." the man said, looking down at philza.

   he sighed, glancing up at technoblade. "you've been acting off, mate. less wars are starting, and that's weird for you. i know you also started protecting that one mortal. fuck, what was their name?" he murmured, brows furrowed. technoblade sighed in annoyance, not wanting to be pestered with questions.

   "[name]." he answered phil quietly, not bothering to look back at the blond man. the clouds danced with each other in the sky, entertwining and morphing with each other freely. sometimes he wishes he could be as free as the clouds. "you know," phil said, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes. the blood god could only dread what he was going to say. "rumor has it that gods only protect mortals they're interested in."

   the teasing, despite only being light hearted, had a quizzical undertone. while technoblade had been acting strange, protecting somebody was something phil had never expected. either something was special about that mortal and their family, or someone had begun fantasizing. he could only hope it wasn't the latter.

   with more conversation, technoblade denying any feelings blooming for a human, phil left to go do his job. he was alone with his thoughts, the voices making him tug at his own hair to keep them quiet. they craved the mortal, despite how much he willed himself to stay in his throne room, the man had to go see them.

   it was a normal day for you. nothing was different, much less weird. it was only normal, a basket of bread in your hands as you walked home. you hummed as you stepped on the path, enjoying the peaceful walk back to your house. you were content with your life, having a few people and more deaths than you could count.

   and see them he would.

   you partially blamed philza, the angel of death, for the passing of your loved ones, but you also knew he wasn't the one to kill them. he simply took them to the afterlife, guiding them to where they would spend the rest of their days. the deaths in your family had piled up, mostly from war and some of falling ill.

   you spent your days worshipping gods now. you were always the lonely type, choosing to stay by yourself rather than interact with others. you never minded the comforting embrace of being alone, the silence enveloping you at every given moment. it provided you with a sense of comfort you couldn't get anywhere else.

   while you did worship other gods, you mostly worshipped technoblade. he was the primary god, you giving up all your offerings to him ─ ranging from bread to trinkets to gold galore. the tales of the blood god, always grand stories with daring adventures that had you on the edge of your seat, had always intrigued you.

   your favorite, the one you read the most to the slim amount of people you did contact, was the tale of the butcher army. when he was human, a detail that many didn't know whether to believe or not, he blew up many countries. it hinted at the start of him being the god of war many years later. for punishment, the butcher army hunted him down.

   they lied to the man, once they had captured him, in which they had prepared for his execution. some say he died that day, only to be revived due to the gods holy whim; others say he had never died, and broke out of the iron bars to kill the men who had hunted him down. learning about the magnificent god, a god you admired, had faced an army of four and won, allowed you to admire him even further.

   once you got home, setting down your basket of bread, you had sighed. you always liked coming home, your safe space filling you with a joy like no other. the everlasting comfort of your home, a familiar place you longed to be at constantly, helped you feel safe. the comforting feeling of being home at last filled you at peace.

   until it wasn't so peaceful anymore.

   from your kitchen came a clanging noise. there were a few grunts followed afterwards, your eyes wide. fear flooded your system, nervousness coursing through your veins. you stayed silent, hoping you'd either been dreaming or had been imagining sounds. however, once a voice spoke, you knew that was not the case.

   from your kitchen came, with his red cape dragging behind him, technoblade. you stammered, confusion replacing your previous nervousness. your grip came loose on the item you were holding, not being able to process what you were seeing. "well this is awkward." the god stated, putting your kitchen utensils he had just knocked down back on your counter.

   if anything, this was awkward. very awkward. who expected a god to come through their kitchen window? "uh, do you," you stuttered, voice measily yet you still tried to fight it out. "do you mind telling me why you're here?" it was more than odd to see a god in your kitchen, the sight one hard to believe for even yourself.

   technoblade had sighed, draping himself over your couch cushions as if he lived there. his arms, unlike your bare ones, spread across the back of your couch, the sight making you nearly sigh. "well, mortal, i had taken intrest in you." he answered bluntly, your mind still reeling from the fact that he was even here, but taking interest in you? no, this had to be some kind of joke.

   the visible confusion highlighting your features made the god chuckle. it was amusing, seeing the looks on mortals' faces whenever something odd or unexplainable happened. "what's so confusing? i took interest in you, and so i came down here to see you." the blood god explained, shrugging his shoulders. the confusion you felt only worsened.

   why was the question. why was a god in your house? why had he taken interest in you? you shook your head, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "sorry, i need to sit down." you muttered, trying to regain your footing. you sat down, going slowly as to not pass out in front of him. "so," you spoke up as soon as you had calmed down. "why have you taken interest in me?"

   a cloud of silence loomed over the two of you, technoblade falling into his thoughts. why had he taken interest in you? there was no particular shining traits in you, even if he studied you as if you had carved out the world with your own hands; he watched you as if you had brung down a fantastic reign upon everybody.

   "who knows?" he wondered aloud, a hum of amusement following his words. technoblade didn't know the reason for it, and despite itching with curiosity, he didn't bother trying to find out. he only let it be, coming to terms with the fact that you, a mortal, had piqued his interest. you kept him entertained, and that's all that mattered.

   after the two of you talking more, you still trying to get over the shock that the blood god was in your home, you had to say that he was fairly a nice guy. maybe he was kinder than all of the other ones, however you've never crossed paths with a god either, so you couldn't tell. when technoblade had stood up, braided hair falling against your couch, you knew it was time for him to go.

   he turned to look down on you, his towering figure highly intimidating. there was a reason he was feared across nations. he stared at you for a second, maybe deciding on what to say, though you couldn't tell with his blank expression. the man only sighed, wishing you a good day, and then turned to leave.

   "you've got me interested, technoblade."

   you only spoke to the god more after the first encounter. seconds turned into minutes and then minutes turned to hours. he was an interesting guy, choosing which emotion to show and when to show it. perhaps it came with being a god. as he came by more, each visit surprising you, you only talked to him more.

   "as you've got me, [name]."

   soon he started telling you stories. the butcher army, the l'manberg war, how he met philza. he told you great things of philza, the angel of death, so much so you nearly stopped disliking philza. you were always interested in his stories though, no matter how long or how action packed. each further lured you in to his grasp.

   technoblade, however, had stopped visiting so often. with more conflict arising everyday, he didn't have as much time to visit you anymore ─ philza was starting to catch on as well. how he wasn't home as often or how he lied to philza each time he asked him where he was. he was getting suspicious, and wanted answers quickly.

   philza confronted technoblade on this issue a while later. his wings puffed up confidently, he was so sure something was going on with his eldest friends, the edges torn at the seams. "technoblade." he addressed politely, standing in front of his throne once again, as he did not so long ago. he would get answers out of him.

   technoblade only sighed, his cheek pressed against his closed fists as he stared at philza. "yes, philza?" he asked, voice heavy with exhaustion. the recent wars, as much as he loved the excitement and panic that came with it, have been too tiring for him. he also couldn't visit you that morning, only pissing him off more.

   "have you been seeing the mortal you told me you had interest in?"

   silence crashed over the room, violent in its malicious intent. phil's questioned nipped at the blood god, desperately pleading for an answer. philza sighed, one of disappointment and perhaps even anger. the silence was enough of an answer. "mate, are you kidding me?"

   technoblade merely sighed, eyes narrowing at the blond. "you have no say on who i take interest in, phil. that is none of your concern." he dismissed the blond, turning back to look at the window. philza had no say in what technoblade done with his life, no matter how long the two have been friends.

   "none of my concern? mate, they're a mortal and you're a god! hell, the blood god! for fucks sake, mate, you can't be seeing mortals!" philza snapped, brows furrowed and cheeks red from anger. the trouble a god could get in from seeing a mortal was irredeemable.

   if technoblade got caught with the mortal, he would lose not only his titles, but his life. he would be executed.

   technoblade merely scoffed however, rolling his eyes. "as if i'll get caught, philza. those laws are stupid anyways. what, are you going to tell on me?" he arched his brows at the angel of death, sneering at him. how dare he barge into his temple and then go off at him; a beloved friend of his.

   however, the mortal was too intresting to not keep seeing. he may of even caught feelings. how laughable ─ the blood god, feared across empires, falling for a mere mortal. philza only sighed, rubbing his temples. he weighed his options: technoblade could continue seeing the mortal, get caught, and then both of them get in trouble.

   or philza could tell the council. tell them of his affairs, tell them why he hasn't been here as often. once more, a vicious silence swept over them. only for a moment, for philza had declared:

   "if you don't stop seeing this mortal, i'll have no choice but to stop it. don't make me do it, mate."

   his evening visit was late that night. you had already prepared dinner, setting it up for when he was to arrive. from what he's told you, he hasn't had human food in a long time. he told you that gods didn't need to eat nor sleep. you had decided to make him food for when he comes, wanting him to have food even if he doesn't need it.

   the gust of wind from deceiving angel wings swept across his face. messy hair cascaded over his face, and for once, the blood god had found a problem he didn't know he could solve.

   ten minutes. twenty minutes. thirty minutes. you sighed at the mocking tick of the clock, each passing second being another sign that he wasn't going to come. perhaps he had better things to do. frowning, you began to gather the food up, knowing you wouldn't eat it all, before the familiar two knocks came at your door.

   rushing over, once you had opened it, you were surprised to see something different than you were used to.

   technoblade was there, but he looked different. more angry, perhaps even upset.

   worried, you frowned at the god. "are you okay?" you asked, hoping the man was alright. the god only nodded, staring at the ground. he came back to you after a moment of silence, sighing. "yes, just got caught up in some things. nothing for you to be concerned of." he said, brushing you off before you could even speak.

   when technoblade had gone back to his temple, rubbing his temples with a sigh, something unexpected had greeted him. there was philza, perched on the window with a firm look of coldness. "visiting the mortal again, were you, mate?" he asked once he had came into view. technoblade had half a mind to tell him to fuck off.

   that night provided a great distraction from what would come the following days.

   no words were spoken from technoblade afterwards. the betrayal of another friend, a promise to do something about his meetings, had wounded him. he didn't want to lose philza, but also had begun to realise something ─ he had caught feelings for the mortal.

   for you, who had been the sunshine on his darkest days. call it a cliche, but technoblade truly didn't know happiness if you weren't by his side. having watched countless deaths and falls of kingdoms over the many, many years of being alive, the man had never found as great of a comfort than by your side. you were the sun to his moon, a forever shining force to his immortal darkness.

   though the moon and sun are destined to never touch.

   that night, philza had technoblade bring him to your house under promise of telling the council. they had shown up to your house late at night, when the world was asleep. it had been abrupt, the two males coming into your home. you were shaking, scared as to what this meant. the angel of death and the blood god inside your home could mean nothing good.

   and you were right. that night, that forsaken night, technoblade had been cursed in front of your eyes. the wide eyed look on his face, the shock of what a former friend could do. you tried to reach out for him, but were stopped by philza. he permitted you to stay still, or else your blood would be on your walls.

   "technoblade, the blood god and the god of war, i hereby sentence you to an eternity of reincarnation. as long as you are alive, your lover, [name] [last name], will be killed and reincarnated. only ever letting you get close enough to hardly touch them."

   your words were caught in your throat, the cruel punishment knocking the wind out of you. philza's eyes shone, bright in an unholy way, rising up with his wings behind him. technoblade had felt the burning sensation of a marking, a forever sign of the curse, on the side of his neck. a flower had been burnt into the side of his neck, your favorite flower.

   "i'm sorry, technoblade." were the last words you heard before a sword made of light had stabbed through your stomach.

   the blood god had frantically scooped up your body in his arms, panicking for the first time since you've seen him. he tried to get you to say anything, although the words were too hard to say, no matter how hard you tried to get them out. he reassured you would be okay, despite knowing the inevitable would happen.

   "you should've listened to him ... heh, you're a dumbass, you know that?"

   you took your last breath seconds later.

[jiaraforeverr]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Author's note: Hi everyone! This is my very first fanfic so I would love to hear your thoughts! @arcticaid requested this months ago, I'm so sorry it took so long! I started writing it in May, but honestly forgot about it until after I watched season 2.

You can also find it on Ao3 here!

Pairing: JJ Maybank/Kiara Carrera

Kiara lay awake in the spare bed of the Chateau, the heavy and humid air sticking to her skin and making her whole-body flush with warmth. She could blame her inability to sleep tonight on the typical end of summer North Carolina heat, but there was something else on her mind keeping her up. With all the windows propped open as wide as they would go, she could hear the creaking of the old hammock rocking slowly back and forth, keeping her mind from thinking of anything other than the person she knew was also pretending to be sleeping right now.

A couple hours earlier, Pope had said his final goodbye before getting on the ferry to the mainland, where he would be traveling to UNC Charlotte for his first semester of college. He was finally doing what he was meant to, to pursue the future that his friends have protected and encouraged the last few years. But now he was gone, not coming back to the island for at least a couple months.

And that left Kiara and JJ.

It had been almost two years since the gold summer. Two years since they had last seen John B or Sarah. The loss of their best friend had taken a toll on all of them, but especially JJ. John B had been his brother, the first person he really was able to call family, the first person he felt safe with. Losing him had sent JJ down a dark path filled with alcohol and drugs much stronger than weed. It had taken Kiara and Pope about three months to get him back on track, and luckily that included getting him out of his dad’s house and into the Heyward’s care.

The three of them held onto the Chateau though. No one ever came asking about it, and they never brought it up. Currently, JJ was saving up to officially own it so they would no longer have the constant fear of having the last part of their best friend ripped away from them.

With Pope leaving for college, Kiara was left with the impossible task of deciding what she should be doing now. Much to her parent’s dismay, she had already that college wasn’t what she wanted- at least not right now. She can see herself going in the future, maybe getting a degree in marine biology and opening a conservation center of her own. But that was for later. Now, she knew there were still things she had to do.

Giving up the fight with herself to fall asleep, Kiara sits up in bed, sighing deeply as she presses her hands to her eyes. She could help but think about JJ. She was terrified of what leaving him alone would look like. She couldn’t risk losing another friend. A part of her knew that deep down, she just really didn’t want to leave his side at all.

Things with JJ had always been different than it had been with Pope or John B, but even more so after John B’s disappearance. They had a bond stronger than ever before, and Kiara was unsure how to deal with the feelings that had come along with it. She thinks that they’ve probably always been there in the back of her mind. Every flirty comment or wink JJ had given her growing up had always been accompanied by a small tug in her stomach that she now has a sneaking suspicion wasn’t due to annoyance.

Walking through the empty, quiet house, she took no precautions to avoid the loud floorboards like she normally would, and with an ache in her heart realized it was because no one else was here. As she got closer to the back door, quiet music filled the air, confirming that JJ was most definitely not asleep.

She silently made her way towards the hammock where JJ lay with both eyes closed, but he still opened one eye knowingly as she stopped next to him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” JJ murmurs softly.

“No, I just willingly woke up in the middle of the night for fun,” she responds sarcastically, but with no real bite to it.

“Hmm,” JJ closes his eyes again, “I can’t imagine hating myself that much. What a horrible life you lead.”

“What about you, what’s got you up?” Kiara ignores his quip at her, wanting to get to what was on his mind.

He didn’t respond right away, the silence sitting comfortably between them for a few moments. Kiara reaches down and brushes her fingers softly through his blonde hair, prompting him to finally respond.

“What do we do now Kie?” His whispers, just loud enough so she can hear him.

“What do you mean?” She murmurs back, as if she was afraid speaking too loudly would cause him to retreat back into his mind and close up on her.

“Like, we’re not kids anymore. Pope’s gone, you’ll be outta here traveling the world or whatever soon enough. I just feel like I’ve got nothin’ going for me when everyone else does.”

JJ’s admission makes her heart stop, and her breath catch in her throat. It had been a while since John B’s death, but that in no way meant they were over it. And now JJ was facing the very real possibility that he could be losing his remaining friends as well.

Wordlessly, Kiara reaches down again and gently tugs on JJ’s hand, indicating that she wanted him to get up. Predictably, he groaned in protest, but still slowly pulled himself up from the hammock. They both knew he would do anything she asked of him. Kiara leaned over and slightly turned up the volume of the speaker JJ had set up at the base of the tree. The sound of soft reggae music filled the air making her smile. She didn’t think before stepping closer to JJ so they were chest to chest with their noses just about touching. She wound both arms slowly around his neck securing him to her.

“What are you doing?” JJ asks her, a small smile creeping up on his face as his arms automatically wrap around her waist, closing the small gap between them.

“Dancing,” she responds, burying her nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of the ocean, smoke, and a hint of sweat. She sways their bodies side to side, and feels him drop his head into the top of hers.

“Why are we dancing?” He mumbles, moving his body with hers.

She ignores his question, and just lets the two of them get lost in the soft music and the feeling of being close to one another. A warm breeze rustles the trees above them causing JJ to grip his arms tighter around her. The fairy lights twinkle in the branches, and Kiara thinks to herself ‘how could it get better than this?’

“JJ,” she whispers into his neck, “how could you ever think that I would leave you?”

“Because this isn’t where you belong, Kie. You should be exploring the world, saving the turtles and probably every other animal along the way.”

“I belong where you are,” she says, her voice just loud enough so that he could hear her. “And if I’m leaving the Outer Banks, so are you.”

“There’s nothing out there for me. I’d be dragging you down.”

“You’ve never been out there, how would you know? You could teach surfing lessons and fix boats in a new country every month. We could ride bikes and never have to worry about a car again. Imagine, me and you hitting every country that has an ocean, surfing every wave we can find around the world. John B would be so proud of us.”

Her voice trails off at the mention of their dead best friend, worried she hit a nerve. But JJ just pulls his head away from hers just enough so that he could press his lips softly to her forehead.

“He really would, wouldn’t he?” JJ says with his mouth against her neck now.

“We’ll make it work, J. We always do. I don’t want to do things like travel the world if I’m not doing it with you by my side.”

“When do we leave, captain?” JJ asks jokingly, but in a way that makes her believe he is serious.

“Planning starts bright and early tomorrow, and I think we’d be much more productive if we got some sleep.”

He says nothing in response and the silence sits between them again as they continue to hold each other.

“Can we do this? In every country all over the world?” JJ asks quietly.

“Do what? Dance?”

“No. I- yes. But I mean more like, just like- be together? Like this?”

Kiara didn’t even try to fight the smile that spread across her face at his words. She pressed a kiss on his neck, right below his ear. She knew what their relationship was right now was complicated, but in that moment, nothing made more sense. She was his and he was hers. Simple as that.

“We’ll always be together. We can be like this for the rest of our lives. On our surf trip to every country around the world, and after it and before. I said I’d never leave you, and I meant it.”

[anyoneseenadam]

The Moon Spirit - three

Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: Fenrys being cute, badass reader but like a shit ton of angst, allusions to sexual assualt (Fenrys canon stuff), mentions of weapons? idk if that counts

word count: 4.4k

a/n: so this took a while but it’s finally done, please comment it genuienly keeps me going cause it’s super easy to get unmotivated, hope you enjoy <3

——————————————————————————

After he left you, Fenrys begrudgingly found himself back at the palace, bowed on one knee in front of Maeve. She looked cruelly beautiful as always but there was something more sinister sparkling in her eyes today, remaining quiet as he stood back to his full height, meeting her gaze with wavering confidence.

“Who have you been with?” she finally broke the silence and he cursed himself for thinking he could ever get away with that.

“I just walked a young girl home, she was new, and I was afraid someone may take advantage of her if she was alone,” he spoke truthfully, allowing Maeve to push into his mind as she searched for a hidden lie.

He watched as she drew in a sharp breath, something like fear flickering across her face before her tightly drawn lips spread into a wide smile.

“Come here,” she commanded, and he went to stand in front of her, close enough to smell her sickening perfume and to see the flawless texture of her skin. “Do you love this girl?”

He shook his head, no, and she ran a hand down his face in a motherlike way. “Good, you will be recruiting her.” His eyes widened and he had to put his energy into not flinching away.

“What?” he spoke with an incredulous tone and Maeve glared at his lack of respect making him bow his head. “Sorry your majesty, I’m just slightly confused. She was just a young girl and didn’t seem to have any former training.”

“And that’s why I’m in charge, you men are too foolish. That was a powerful girl, and I would rather she remained on my side than any other.” He frowned, powerful? She had seemed kind, lost and strong enough to hold her own – but not powerful.

“I need you to see her again, convince her to join.” Fenrys physically felt the command go through him and he stood taller again, nodding gruffly as she waved her hand in dismissal.

--

Your first few days of work had been harder than expected, and you had gone home with aching muscles from lifting books and sore cheeks from plastering on smiles. Albert had made your days easier, drinking hot tea with you as you slowly revealed more and more about your past to him, his kind, old eyes lulling you into a comforting state.

But you didn’t receive rest when you got home. Ploughing through books on spirits and practicing using the limited magic you had found until the early hours of the morning, getting barely two hours of sleep a night unplagued by nightmares. By your fifth day Albert had handed you a pot of cosmetic product to hide the circles forming, commenting on scaring the customers away as you stuck your tongue out at him but smearing some on regardless.

On the second Saturday after your arrival you had a day off and used it to venture into the market, your empty shelves no longer sustaining you, let alone Amaris. Your basket soon filled with colourful fruits and vegetables, and you were browsing the fish section when a shadow fell over you.

“Let me take that for you,” you turned to see Fenrys standing over you with that same easy smile, his head tilted slightly. You rolled your eyes, trying to block out the feelings expanding in your chest at just the sight of him.

“And here I thought I had lost you,” you muttered, and he laughed, taking your basket from you, and paying for the wrapped salmon you had just been passed. “You don’t need to do stuff like that,” you told him, and he took your arm as he led you out of the market.

“Can’t help myself, I see a pretty girl in need and boom, I have to help.” He joked and you laughed lightly.

“Oh yeah, the damsel in distress disease, I’ve heard that’s a nasty one to cure,” he smiled down at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Not really, all I need is a kiss,” he tugged you closer and you squealed, shoving him away as he laughed.

“As I said, nasty.” He dramatically put a hand to his heart, throwing his head back in distress.

“You wound me darling,” he complained, and you laughed, hating how much you genuinely enjoyed his company. You reached your apartment in no time, and he stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to your door.

“So no invitation of tea, a glass of wine, a home cooked meal?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes,

“I’m afraid I reserve that for people I like,” he raised his eyebrows, hopping up the steps two at a time.

“Even if I have genuine cause to talk to you?” he asked and the sincerity in his eyes made a shot of fear run through you. He couldn’t know, could he?

“What is it?” you asked, and he smiled softly, a little pain shining through his loving eyes.

“The queen has a proposition to make.” His voice quietened and you straightened your posture, your entire demeanour switching in a second.

“Come in.” you opened the door and stepped in, allowing him to duck as he followed.

The first thing he noticed was how barren your apartment was, a simple kitchen, connected to a room with a pale blue sofa and worn coffee table. Your shelves were bare, and he sneaked a look into your room as he passed the open door, your mattress on the floor covered by only a thin blanket and a few cushions, one incredibly expensive looking gold dress on the floor, stained dark red. But before he could venture further in he heard you cooing in an impossibly soft voice.

He turned the corner and blanched at the sight he saw, “What the?”

You turned from were you were feeding small bits of salmon to a pure white bundle of fluff that hissed as soon as it saw him. “Amaris, be polite!” you scalded, and he surveyed the cat with a wary look, untrusting of the small creature.

“You have a cat.” He stated, suddenly completely unsure of his taste in women.

“No he’s actually a spider,” you deadpanned and Fenrys pouted.

“But I thought you’d be a dog person,” he complained, and you laughed, moving to throw open the curtains in the room before you started putting away the food you had bought, boiling a pot of water over your stove.

“I just like animals, why does it matter?” you asked, and he threw his arms up before transforming into his wolf form. You gasped and Amaris meowed loudly, scampering to hide behind your legs.

“You’re a wolf.” You stated and he turned back with a smile.

“No I’m a spider,” you flipped him off as you turned to put the rest of your food away.

“I prefer you as a wolf, they’re one of my favourite animals,” you told him and he smiled, sticking his tongue out childishly at Amaris who just sauntered of to doze on a pillow.

“So, what does the queen want?” you asked, pouring the hot water into a pot you had prepared, and he sat down on your worn-down sofa, cringing as it creaked under his weight. You followed suit soon after putting the pot and two mugs down, curling your feet underneath yourself as you looked at him.

“Well, she has told me that you’re actually extremely powerful and because of this she wants to recruit you. She wants you to join the Cadre.” He spoke surely and confidently but his eyes shone with wariness.

“Okay first of all, I’m not at all powerful, secondly how would she even know if I was, which I’m not! And third, what is The Cadre?” he laughed slightly and moved forward to pour himself a cup of tea.

“Well you clearly are because she recognised you and always knows these things, trust me. She’s never wrong about this. And The Cadre is a group I’m in, elite soldiers sworn to protect Maeve.” He explained and you shook your head.

“Fenrys I barely know basic self-defence, I’m not a soldier. And I don’t want to be sworn to royalty.” Your hands were shaking slightly at the thought of being sworn to another tyrant, “Plus in all honesty I only found out I was Fae on Monday, so I’m not exactly well versed in this shit.”

“How did you not know before?” he asked – frowning.

“The country I… come from, there was no magic. The king wiped all magic out years ago.”

“Why?” It was an understandable question but still made you panic, he couldn’t know.

“I don’t know, all I know is he did, so those alike me – with magic but born into a magicless world – never got to know.” You were good at concealing emotions, that much Fenrys could see. You seemed to have iron walls built into the clouds around your heart, protecting it as fiercely as you would Amaris.

“Well, Maeve wants to meet with you soon, so let me know when you decide gorgeous,” he stood, and you smiled at him gratefully for not prying further.

“I’m really sorry Fenrys I just don’t think it’s a good idea. As I said I’m not a soldier.” He nodded but his eyes still conveyed a sense of worry.

“Well keep in mind you would get to train with me, probably shirtless.” He joked as you opened the door for him, grinning when you laughed loudly, shoving him through the door.

“Bye Fenrys,” you said, eyes sparkling as he waved, whistling his way down the street comically.

You closed the door as your smile fell, a weight settling on your chest as you already knew why he looked so wary – Kings and Queens didn’t understand the word no.

--

You practically ran to the library the next day, opting to bring Amaris with you as he peeked out of the small handbag you had found stuffed into the back of your closet. When you flew into the library you instantly sought out Albert, who took one look at your flushed, shining appearance and abandoned the pile of books he was putting away, motioning for you to sit down.

You sat quickly, huffing out a breath as Amaris crawled out of his makeshift home and started exploring the new territory of the small backroom reserved for staff only.

“What bothers you child?” Albert’s voice was steady as always and his dry, warm hands grasped yours gently as your eyes filled with unshed tears.

“I just – I needed to talk to someone,” you stuttered out, your breath coming in harsher pants as he shushed you.

“Take a minute and allow yourself to breathe first dear,” he commanded, and you pressed a hand to your heart as you tried to slow its pounding. “Start from the beginning, tell me what’s wrong.”

“The man I loved, his- his name was Dorian, Dorian Havilliard.” You said quietly and Albert let out a small chuckle.

“I presumed as much, I visited Adarlan once, and an old man never forgets the face of a princess.” You looked at him through blurry eyes, confused.

“You knew?” he smiled sadly at you.

“I was 90% certain, but I would never have pressured you to reveal secrets like that.” He passed you a tissue, “But I sense that’s not all that weighs heavy on you?”

You shook your head, “Queen Maeve has made clear that she wishes me to join the Cadre.”

Albert’s face changed with the clear shock, and you bowed your head, shamefully.

“And what did you say?” he asked slowly.

“No, of course! I don’t have any desire to be another monarch’s puppet.” You stated and he shushed you again.

“You need to remember that people always listen.” He scolded, repeating one of the first things he had told you when you started working. “I agree that you should be cautious, but perhaps gaining the queens protection would be beneficial. Plus you would become an extremely skilled swordsman.”

“I am not a man, nor do I wish to be.” You said through gritted teeth, “And I vowed that I would become skilled on my own and go back to Dorian.”

“Yes but if you join, you will be more skilled than ever before,” Albert reasoned and you shook your head, tears welling up again.

“I thought you’d be on my side for this, you are the one who told me to be careful around powerful people.” You felt unjustly betrayed as he spoke and his shoulders slumped slightly, sighing before grasping your hands lightly again.

“I am dear, and I urge you to do what you think is best. But I am simply reminding you that if you truly want to beat this king you are being offered power on a silver platter right now, and perhaps it would be foolish to deny yourself it.” You let his words run around your head as you worked overtime trying to figure out a plan.

“Say I joined – what do I need to do to ensure I don’t become another puppet?” you asked, and he smiled at you.

“First of all, she will offer a blood oath and you must refuse it with everything you have in you – she came to you remember you hold the power. On that note you must summon all those queenly powers of yours and ensure when you speak to her, she is meeting you and she is trying to win you over. Never the other way around.” You nodded, pocketing the information in your head. “When in the palace you are always being watched, always being listened to, so keep your wits about you. But I’m sure you’re used to that by now.”

You laughed under your breath, “It’ll be just like going home,” you commented, and he smiled.

“Sadly yes, now take this money. Go but a new dress and tomorrow you will take a carriage, you can’t walk there.” You thanked him softly, placing the gold in the purse you held, “You’re a kind girl, that is what makes you strong and that’s what will make you a good queen. Don’t let them take your heart.”

Your throat tightened and you nodded due to the lack of trust you held for your voice, standing, and collecting your bag in one hand and Amaris in the other. Albert stood to take you to the door with a smile, and a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“You can have tomorrow off work as well, however I feel our work together is already coming to an end.” You smiled softly, allowing him to pet Amaris’ head softly before he kissed your cheek gently, ushering you out the door.

“Have a good night Albert,” you said, turning to see him watching you with sorrowful eyes.

“Remember what I told you dear, don’t let them take your heart.” Your smile was sad as you spoke,

“I won’t.” You both heard the lie but, neither of you decided to correct it. Not tonight.

--

Of all the things Fenrys expected to see the next morning, you were the one he hoped for. But as he looked around at the powerful men surrounding the room he felt white-hot panic seize him as he realised what you were about to do. You hadn’t even looked at him when you walked in, keeping your eyes trained solely on Maeve, not even dropping them as you dropped in a low curtsy.

He was even more shocked by the blood red dress you adorned, the v-neck deep and skirts long with a slit up either leg, high enough to reveal the halter you wore with a silver dagger and a ruby encrusted hilt secured into place. Every man, woman and mouse watched as you walked through the room – head high and shoulders back, revealing enough to entrance everyone in the room but covering enough to keep them wanting more and he felt his anger grow as he watched you.

You waited with a soft, but condescending, smile on your face, allowing Maeve to regrasp some power by speaking first – every movement so calculated and precise. As he watched you he saw the power and understood the fear and lust building in the room.

“So I guess you heard my offer.” Maeve finally said, drawling low with relaxed posture.

“I did.” Your statement was short, to the point but you saw it grate Maeve’s nerves and smiled as sweet as spun sugar, “Your majesty.”

“And?” he watched as Maeve grew more agitated and was surprised she hadn’t killed you yet, usually not standing for even an ounce of insubordination.

“I am willing to accept on one condition – I’m not taking a blood oath.” He had to fight jumping in the air with glee as you spoke, so afraid you were going to get tangled in the mess he was in. Maeve’s face grew dark, but you held your ground, never letting your eyes stray lest she see your weakness.

“Well that’s simply not viable,” she stated, glaring you into the ground but you just smiled again, nodding with a polite laugh.

“I see, well this was a lovely meeting, gentlemen.” You raised your hand politely as you moved to leave, your eyes finally flittering over him and the rest of the cadre. You bowed once again to Maeve, making to leave when Maeve raised her hand.

“We are not finished.” She stated.

“Well I’m terribly sorry your majesty but I’ve made my terms extremely clear, and since you refuse to budge - I believe we are done.” Your voice was still sweet, but he watched your face change slightly, every bit a queen looking down upon her people. He couldn’t help but wonder were you learned to speak this way, but Maeve simply laughed.

“Yet here you are,” she spoke with a mocking tone, and you smiled with your teeth this time.

“Need I remind you that you sought me out, if I have terms it should be in your best interest to meet them if you wish me to join your miniature army.” Fenrys heard Lorcan snarl lowly next to him but gripped his arm in warning.

“Oh your training is impressive princess, but I’m afraid it will be of no use.” Your face didn’t budge as Maeve spoke, but Fenrys watched as something flickered through your eyes, “You see, I learn of misdemeanours in other courts very easily and I wish to show you what I learned of Adarlan.”

“There’s nothing you could show me that I won’t have seen before,” you said, and he watched the two of you laugh like you were mingling at a party instead of standing of in a court.

“Oh I’m afraid this is relatively new, you might reconsider your terms after this,” you stood straight as Maeve walked down the steps and moved to whisper something the rest of them couldn’t hear in your ear, her hand pressed lightly to the base of your neck.

She pulled away after a few minutes and he took in your now shaking hands, eyes filled with tears you clearly refused to let fall. You took in a steadying breath before speaking, “You’re lying.”

“Oh I wish I was princess, but I can only show the truth and it appears your prince had moved on rather quickly, what use is there going back to a country where you can no longer rule.” She stroked your hair condescendingly and you chewed the inside of your lip as it quivered. “But here, here – under my control – you have power of your own. Men will no longer hold onto you like a prized pony, you will become something they fear, you will be my perfect princess, the daughter I never got to have.”

Fenrys inhaled sharply, he knew Maeve never planned to relent the throne, especially not to a woman from another country. She looked at you like you were a doll, something for her to reshape and change. You must have seen it to, but through your blurry eyes everything had changed.

“Okay,” your voice was smaller than before, and he wanted to tear Maeve limb from limb for having broken you down so harshly with just a few words. She smiled cruelly at you as she cut a small line along her forearm and you bowed your head in pain, before falling to your knees – graceful even as pain consumed your entire being. You brought your lips to her wound and drank as she repeated the words that he remembered all too well.

When you rose your lips were sparkling red, and your eyes were glistening with tears still unshed – but you raised your head like a queen and Maeve smiled.

“I believe you have already met Fenrys, he will be training you as the training you have received is not proficient, I’ll have all your belongings brought to a room here.” Maeve waved her hand to some guards, but you stopped her.

“I only need Amaris brought here; the rest can burn.” You muttered.

“And for your new wardrobe?” She asked and you smiled looking down, wiping your mouth slowly.

“Make it red.” You finally met Fenrys eyes, and he stepped forward, desperate to drag you far, far away.

“Shall I escort her to her new room?” he asked Maeve and she flitted her eyes to him, then to the hand he had pressed to your back.

“Yes and then afterword’s come find me,” she smiled cruelly at him, and he felt you stiffen under his hand, but he just nodded and began to lead you out of the room.

He led you through the corridors and up the stairs in silence, angry at you for accepting and at himself for not putting up more of a fight. When he reached the room he presumed would be yours he opened the door for you, following you in as you sat on the bed, your usual lightness replaced by the weight on your shoulders.

He watched you bow your head and came to sit beside you, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise; this was my choice.” You said and he reached an arm around your shoulders, but you quickly shrugged him off.

“I shouldn’t, we shouldn’t, if you and the queen are…” you trailed off and Fenrys bowed his head in shame.

“It’s not like that, she, she makes me,” he muttered, and you inhaled sharply, turning to him with those watery eyes.

“I had no idea, I’m sorry,” you whispered, instantly looping your arms around him neck and holding him tight. “She’s a monster.”

Fenrys huffed a laugh, pulling away, “You’re telling me.”

He reached a hand for your face slowly, wiping under your eyes where a tear had escaped, “how did she change your mind?” he asked, dark eyes searching your face for clues as your bottom lip quivered in pain.

“She showed me home,” was all you said, and his shoulders dropped. He would leave it for now, you were young and clearly not ready to speak – and now, they had all the time in the world to speak.

“Sleep tight, training starts at seven tomorrow,” he stood and kissed your head lightly and you nodded, words getting caught in your throat. He left quietly, walking away as quickly as he could to avoid hearing the soft sobs that erupted as soon as he closed the door.

--

You could barely contain your tears until you got to your room, repeating rule thirteen over and over in your head, crying in public is only appropriate at funerals and weddings. But as soon as Fenrys left your room you sobbed into your hands, wailing, and crying like a child throwing a tantrum as you let out the emotions, the screams that have been locked inside of you for so long.

You had done everything for Dorian, changed every part of yourself and become the perfect princess, girlfriend, fiancé – and he, mere weeks after you had to run, was already moving onto a new girl.

As hard as you tried you couldn’t get rid of the image of him and the blonde girl out of your head. How he kissed her softly, his hand on her lower back where it always used to rest on yours. The smile when he pulled away, the way he laughed with her, the way Chaol smiled at his brother when he was happy. You had been forgotten, replaced, almost instantly, the warmth you used to feel when you thought of home, of your princes’ arms replaced by a tight chest and a cold feeling encompassing your heart.

“I’m sorry Albert,” you whispered into the air as you stood looking out on your balcony, gripping tightly to the rail as you feared your legs would give out, “She already took it.”

You were interrupted by a quiet knock on your door, wiping your eyes as you opened it – taking Amaris from the tall guards’ hands as a flurry of women pushed in, filling your drawers with clothes and cosmetics, candles and hair pins, books and plants, a million supplies for Amaris and then some. You smiled politely at them as they left without saying a word, in and out extremely quickly as you stared at a knot in the floor.

Another knock sounded soon after and you turned your head to see one of the Cadre staring in with piercing green eyes. You motioned for him to come in and stood, tilting your head up to meet his gaze as he took in your messy, tear-stained expression.

“You’re the first female member of the Cadre, ever.” He stated and you blinked slowly.

“Lucky me,” your tone was sarcastic, voice rough from the crying but the man smiled.

“I’m Rowan, it’s good to meet you.” He reached out a hand and you met it, allowing him to kiss the back gently.

“(Y/n)” you returned, with a slight curtsey.

“I look forward to fighting with you (y/n),” he stated, releasing your hand and turning to leave, stopping right before he reached the door, “Oh, and don’t lose that dagger, you’ll find a shocking number of men dislike powerful women.”

“First I’m hearing of this,” you deadpanned, and he chuckled.

“Goodluck kid.”

[svtkillua]

milk and tea > 1

rating: [pg-13 / angst] genre: soulmate au pairing: todoroki shouto x reader warnings: cursing, heartbreak, angst! word count: 5k

listen while you read here! join the discord!

chap 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 [final]

Some people related gold to beauty, to the shade of the sun when it reflected off of water in the summer. They associated the colour with the way the wind blew the warm toned leaves off of trees in the fall, pictured sunlight peeking through scattered blooming branches in the spring. Gold was the tone of wealth and wonder, a shade so beautiful that it was coveted as royalty, as otherworldly in design. It was the shade that flickered in the middle of a fire, it emitted the feeling of whimsy, of something bigger than it appeared. For you however it made your heart sink, the colour that filled your gut with dread and turned your blood to an icy sludge. You’d liked it at one point, had admired the way the tone shined in a straight line from the base of your palm straight up to the tip of your middle finger. But now it made you feel alone, hollow, like a constant shimmering reminder of the life you were meant to live, completely by yourself.  

A reminder that while the rest of the world had a soulmate, you had no one. 

It was funny how something you’d loved about yourself when you were younger had become the glaring marker of things you disliked now. The golden slash on your palm had been something you showed off to friends, comparing soul marks with the other kids on the playground, giggling about the possibilities of who you could match with. You used to all day dream about it, if one of you would pair up with the prince or princess of a country, if one of you would marry a celebrity and become a famous duo. The magic around it hadn’t begun to fade until your friends all got paired off one by one, birthdays starting to fill you with pain rather than the giddiness of a child. Looking at your palm was like staring at a ticking clock, one counting down to the moment everything you feared became the truth, the moment your twenty second birthday started and any chances of finding your soulmate were gone. 

Soulmate marks didn’t do much, almost serving like a tattoo you couldn’t get removed or cover with makeup, the skin varying in pigments and shapes from person to person. You didn’t taste what the other tasted, didn’t feel what they felt or know what they were thinking, you just saw them, matched their mark, and knew. Everyone spoke about feeling like they’d been hit by a tidal wave of emotions the first time they saw their other half, like the world stop spinning and all the things that didn’t make sense before suddenly had answers. You didn’t know how it felt, to meet your soulmate for the first time, to see them and feel that gush of emotions everyone spoke about so vividly it made you desperate to find it. You thought you had once, imagined for a few seconds that the way your heart started pounding and throat caved in that you had found him, the person made for you. 

He was beautiful, his duo-coloured locks a complete mess as the wind blew straight through the sweater you’d tossed on that morning. He’d spilled his coffee all over you as you both dashed through the park to get to opposite trains, his eyes wide when you looked up into them, lips parted and ready to spew out agitated jabs, but they’d never came. You thought you’d found it, tasted the possibilities of where things could go next, pictured yourself tracing your fingers over his pale skin as he stared right back at you and the noise of the park fell silent. You let yourself imagine a future with him, one where you’d finally get to be the friend that told everyone you’d found your person, your soulmate, the one who made your lungs give out and pulse pound so hard it bruised and broke apart your rib cage.

But then you saw his palm, his mark not golden but navy blue, the shade just slightly darker than that of a bundle of blueberries. His mark was not one line but one with multiple added on the sides like a tree spreading it’s branches out to each finger tip. It was it the same place as yours, the same straight edges. It was similar to yours, yes, but not the same. 

He was meant for someone, just not for you. 

Looking at him now you could still picture him from three years ago, could still feel the way your heart sped up just staring at him sleeping on your bed like it’d done the day he poured coffee all over your front. He wasn’t meant for you and yet your soul still breathed for him, he wasn’t designed to occupy your thoughts and despite that he was all you ever dreamed about. He was the thing that kept you up at night and greeted you when you fell asleep, the person that gave you even the smallest taste of what it could feel like to be someone’s something, even if all of it was only in your head. 

Shouto Todoroki. 

His hair was draped across his forehead as he mumbled into the pillow bunched up beneath his temple, lips apart as a breathy sigh fell from them while his knuckles bent, fingers digging into the duvet. The moonlight shining brightly outside casted through the windows and onto the planes of his face, accentuating the way his chest rose and fell like the weight of the world was, for once, not on his shoulders, the gentle pitter patter of rain meeting your eardrums and melting into the somber sensation in your veins. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t yours. It was cruel that you got to be so close to him but didn’t get to love him freely, that your birthdays ticked by year after year with no soulmate in sight when someone so perfect was close but off limits. 

You had to meet them before you turned twenty two, that was the rule with soulmates, the reality not many had to face. If you didn’t meet your someone by then, you didn’t have one. It didn’t happen often, the cases of it far and few between, but still prevalent enough for facilities to offer counselling for people like you. People who were meant to be alone, people destined to spend forever without someone there next to them in the mornings when they drank their cup of coffee. People made for no one but themselves, left to wonder what exactly they were worth if they weren’t worth the universe giving them someone to love. 

Todoroki had come over because he knew that even if you kept insisting you were fine you weren’t, that the minutes ticking by that day weren’t like the normal ones because they were the last ones you could spend with an ounce of hope left. It seemed almost fitting, that you’d be alone when the clock struck twelve, that the sky would have opened up and started pouring buckets just a few minutes before your birthday officially began. Your time was about to be up, the digital clock on the bedside table glaring a bright red 23:57 at you when you took another glance at Todoroki, whose arm had sprawled out and now hung slightly off the too large mattress. 

You two had gotten lunch that day he crashed into you, neither of you mentioning the solid minute of silence that had passed after you laid eyes on each other in the park, pretending that neither of your chests had deflated when you looked at the other’s palms and weren’t met with the mirror of their own. He’d insisted on paying you back for the sweater and after some convincing you let him, that apology lunch turning into another, and another, until eventually you found yourself calling each other at two am to talk about how confusing life seemed to be. You felt connected to him, attached almost from the second you first heard him speak, like your heart had decided it belonged to Todoroki even though it wasn’t supposed to be. He’d become your constant over the past three years, your best friend and the only person who ever filled your day dreams, the one who was proving to be your ‘almost’. 

You two spent all your time together, it was almost like you wanted to make yourself hurt, like you adored to make believe the two of you could have a happily ever after when it wasn’t ever going to happen. For a while you’d grown selfish, thinking that maybe neither of you had a soulmate and in turn you could become each other’s, pretending that the stares you’d catch him sending your way meant more than the friendly half smiles that followed. You’d wondered if maybe he was silently wishing for it too, hoping that the universe had made a mistake and not made your marks match. That perhaps you’d end up together after everything was said and done and the pain of thinking you’d end up alone would have been worth it, because you would have had him. 

And then he’d met her. 

His soulmate. 

Your eyes fell shut at the thought of her, body shifting back towards the large-paned windows of your apartment as the rain splattered against them, oxygen leaving you in shaky puffs of held in emotions. You never liked to think about her, didn’t want to focus on the girl that was allowed to love Todoroki in ways that you weren’t. You couldn’t hold his hand, couldn’t touch him in public past pats on the arm or brushes when you passed each other in a crowded hall. You didn’t get to hold him at night or whisper quiet ‘I love you’s’ that made his thin lips spread into dazzling lazy grins. You didn’t get to love him and she did, and you hated how angry you were at the girl when you’d never even spoken to her, despised that you weren’t happy for your best friend like you were supposed to be. Just because you were meant to be alone didn’t mean he had to be, and yet in the bottom of your heart it didn’t feel right, like you’d spent so long convincing yourself maybe you could have each other that reality was a pill too tough to swallow. 

Momo Yaoyorozu was stunning. The midnight black hair that cascaded over her shoulders when she walked, a delicate smile that looked like that of a doll’s, a pleasant voice that flowed like a feather in the breeze. She was beautiful, and from the few bits Todoroki had told you about her, she was incredibly kind and smart, finishing up a degree in teaching so she could work at her own preschool someday. Her family was wealthy, about as wealthy as Todoroki’s was, and it was almost laughable that he’d end up being meant for someone so cookie cutter perfect for his parent’s standard.

Todoroki and his family hadn’t always harboured the best relationship, the family focused more on how things looked than how they felt, caring more about Todoroki’s potential future and life than his now or his heart. Maybe they had good intentions, deep down, just wanting their son to live a safe life, one with stability and comfort rather than hard work, freedom and passion. They wanted him to go to college and he decided not to. They pressured him to become a hero like his father. They pushed and he pulled back, a constant cycle of a someone trying to grow but being shoved back to the ground, like a flower in a garden trapped under a rock. 

You were someone they’d never cared for, not since the first time the pair of you bumped into them at the store during your lunch breaks from work. His father had shook your hand with a smile that turned stiff after a once over, your ears picking up on his mother’s not so subtle ‘you should stay away from her, people will get the wrong idea‘ as you excused yourself to finish shopping. Todoroki hadn’t listened, clearly, filling his afternoons and evenings with you most days, the pair of you near attached at the hip.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

His voice made you jump, eyes peeling open but body not turning as his fingertips skimmed the edges of your elbows, tone raspy from the sleep still thick in his throat. It made your stomach twist, feeling the heat of his body so close, his thin white shirt doing little to prevent it from radiating out of his chest. He was always hot, like the sun that kissed his skin was living inside his body, pouring out warmth and life that made you revolve around him like he was the center of your universe. 

“Why would I have woken you up?” 

“Because it’s your birthday.” 

Your head turned slightly at that, eyes focusing on the digital clock now blaring a bright red 00:04 that reflected off the glass topped table while you shrugged. He was staring at you, you could feel the way his eyes followed yours when you turned to look back out the window, focusing on the beads of water rolling down the damp panes rather than how delicate his touch was as his palms encased your folded forearms. You wanted to melt into him, wanted to fall back into his chest and savour the feeling of him so close to you while you could. You were silently desperate to pretend that he was your soulmate, that when you woke up in the morning he’d still be there in the bed next to you and not back at his house with her. 

“Happy Birthday.” He was being quiet, like if he spoke too loud you would crumble to pieces, his arms inviting themselves to snake around your waist and pull your back into his chest when you hesitated to do so yourself. His hair was tickling your cheek as his chin dipped down to rest on your shoulder, your lashes fluttering as your lids clamped shut and lungs deflated, memorising the way his heartbeat faintly pounded against your flush skin. It felt like a gentle melody, like a soothing thumping that reminded you he was real and not just a perfect mirage in your head. 

It was intoxicating, being in his arms, feeling the heat from his skin spreading through his shirt and into you, aware of his breathes as they barely skimmed the side of your cheek and neck. You wondered if he could tell how rapidly your pulse was pounding, if he knew that even when the world felt dark he was like the lone candle still flickering on, refusing to go out and plunge you into an abyss. You questioned if he knew just how much he meant to you; if he knew just how completely in love with him you were when you’d never uttered a single word about it. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled, hands raising to just barely skim his knuckles before you were pulling from his grasp, taking a few steps away from the window to sit down on the edge of your bed. You looked at him finally, focusing on the way his chest rose and fell while he followed you over to the mattress, his body sinking down beside yours and making the bed dip, your thigh scooting flush into his from the gravity. “I don’t know if I’d exactly call it happy though.” 

“I know.” He sighed and flopped back onto the mattress, hands resting on his lower stomach as his shirt bunched slightly. You looked down at him, admiring the way his hair fell off his forehead still messy from sleep as it fanned just barely around his ears, watching his jaw clench and relax as his mind worked languidly, taking yet another note of the scar that donned his left eye. The rain was creating odd shapes on his front, like moving shadows that couldn’t sit still, creating darkness on his light in its stagnant state, his body a canvas for the night sky to paint upon. 

He didn’t like to try and comfort you with words, usually, never forced out vague reminders that everything would be okay even if you didn’t have a soulmate. He knew that you loathed it, that the pity filled glances of people watching you grow to be alone made your skin crawl with frustration. Todoroki never babied you, never forced out whispers that he knew how you felt when in reality he never could. He still was there for you though, still calmed the waves of self doubt that churned in your gut with gentle brushes of his palms on your arms, silenced the screams in your head with his light laughter and fingers lingering on your hand longer than necessary. He’d been with you a lot more than usual lately, and you weren’t sure if it was because of your impending expiration date or if he simply didn’t feel comfortable yet sharing a place with Momo. 

They’d just moved in together a few weeks ago, the next natural progression in the relationship given his parents pushing for Todoroki to not hesitate so much with things. Momo and Todoroki had barely known each other for a few weeks before their families were urging them to move faster, to be thinking about marriage rather than getting to know the little intricacies about each other. The entire world was watching, waiting to make sure they followed the rules, that they weren’t fighting against something that was required by law to follow. He had pushed back against it for a while, wanting to take his time, to get to know the girl he was supposed to be with, but also had a hard time ignoring the pressure dumped on his shoulders. The place was nice at least, you’d seen it before they got their furniture moved in, let yourself imagine a world where the quaint home was for the two of you and not him and another girl.

It was hard to think about, Todoroki being with Momo, his lips touching her lips and his hands touching her palms. It made you want to vomit, imagining them together, to picture the closeness the two of you shared then mimicked between them, only more intimate, between lovers rather than friends. It stung to picture him bending down on one knee to ask her to marry him someday, burned a whole in your chest to envision him on his wedding day and you not be the one walking down the aisle to greet him. Sometimes you wanted to run away, to leave and move to a different city just so you wouldn’t have to be here when those moments happened, just so you could avoid the inevitable all ending heartbreak that was growing closer by the minute. 

His palm encased your knee fleetingly, drawing your attention away from the shadows dancing across his stomach, focusing on his eyes as his lips spread into a gentle smile. He looked incredibly handsome, perfect skin seeming to glow even in the dim cool toned lighting, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he blinked, weight being pushed up onto his elbows as he nodded once past you. You hesitated to look away, wanting to stare at him a while longer, wanting to memorise the way his lazy grin made your heart feel, wanting to follow how his eyes darted across your features like a painting only he had realised was a masterpiece. 

“Open your present.” 

His fingers left your knee to instead tap your elbow as your head turned, Todoroki sitting up beside you as your vision landed on a white box resting on your bedside table. You hadn’t noticed it before, the bow on top a pale grey that blended in with the pale light, fingers clasping around the box as you moved it onto your lap, peering down at it. It seemed dangerous, like the small container was actually a bomb in disguise, like it was nothing but false hope for the dreams inside your head when he did things like this. He always got you birthday gifts, always remembered to call and make sure you got home okay after a night apart, always texted you to check in when he went out of town or was too busy to see you. It was like he was unintentionally stoking the fire that burned for him in your gut, like he almost wanted you to stay so attached to him, so desperate to be next to him that you thrived off the morsels affection he’d pass your way. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” 

“Shut up and open it.” 

He laughed faintly when you rolled your eyes, your lips parting at the delicate necklace that laid inside the box. It wasn’t anything fancy or grand, a simple silver chain with a small moonstone pendant dangling from the centre, but it made your chest sear like it had been scorched. It felt like he’d grabbed hold of your lungs and squeezed with all his might until no air was left within them, like he took a needle and was sewing his own initials into your heart. You could tell he was staring at you, could feel his eyes burning holes into your cheek as your fingers traced over the delicate gem, pulling it from it’s confines and up further into the light, watching the way it glinted as it swayed. 

“Wow.” Your speech came out breathy, like it was a part of your natural breathing, eyes drifting from the chain pinched in your fingers to Todoroki, who was smiling like he’d never felt more relaxed in his entire life. “You shouldn’t have, Shouto.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“Of course I like it.” You looked at him when his hands encased your own, focus drifting over his features as he took the necklace and reached around your neck. It made your heart pound, feeling his thumbs skimming the sides of your throat, being so close to his lips that you could have leaned in and tasted them. “People just might get the wrong idea if they found out you bought it for me” 

“I don’t care.” He shrugged, smiling faintly at you when his fingers brushed the back of your neck, fiddling with the clasp until he moved his palms down to rest on his lap, the pendant landing just between your collarbones. You instinctively reached up and touched the surface of it, eyes flickering up into Todoroki’s as he watched you closely, like you were under a microscope. It made your lungs shrink in your chest, made your brain seem to malfunction as his calloused fingertips brushed along your knuckles, gentle as a breeze in the summer. 

The silence that fell was comfortable as you glanced down at your fingers, his own weaving through yours before your palms moulded together, the soul marks that were mismatched flush against each other. Your eyes followed his thumb as it moved back and forth over yours, tingles shooting up from your wrist to the top of your elbow, like fireworks were going off in your nerves simply from being so close to him. His free hand rose from its place beside your connected fingers and landed on your cheek, your gaze shifting up as he tucked your hair behind your ear, watching how his lips parted as a heavy exhale exited his body. You wondered what he was thinking, questioned if he could feel you swallow harshly when his touch skimmed over your jawline and made its way slowly along the side of your throat. You wondered if the small proximity between the two of you did the same thing to him as it did to yourself, if his heart was screaming for him to fall into you just like your own was begging him to do. 

“Thank you.” His lips tugged slightly into a smile when you spoke, head bobbing in a nod and causing a few of his long strands of hair to fall further onto his forehead. You wished you had his camera there now so you could capture how stunning he looked, hoping he had at least some idea of how breathtaking he could be while he focused on the beauty the rest of the world held. 

“You’re welcome.” He hummed, fingers caressing the necklace that hung from your neck, knuckles brushing your bare skin in the process. His gray and blue eyes only danced away from your own for a moment, thumb never once stopping its movements along your own as he reconnected your gazes with a blink of his eyes, grip on you tightening. “It looks beautiful on you.”

“I meant for staying.” Your voice was just above a whisper, scared of disturbing him or making him move away, like if you spoke too loudly he’d realise how little space there was between you. You didn’t want him to move away, didn’t want to feel a centimeter further from him ever again, not even for a second. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” 

Being so close to him felt like you were in front of the sun even with the rain drizzling just out the window, like you were being baked by the heat and letting the worries melt off your skin. Todoroki was dangerous, because he was so incredibly perfect to you, even in his flaws. From the way he ignored everyone when he was trying to do paperwork to his the gentle humming he did when he fell asleep on the sofa that jolted in volume from his odd snores, you adored every single thing you’d ever found out about him. He was like a walking day dream you’d never get to really feel, like a perfect ice cream cone on the hottest day you’d never get to taste. He was everything you wanted and couldn’t touch, the man you desired who belonged to someone else. 

The man who was made for another woman. 

The man you loved to the very core of you, with every single cell in your body. 

The buzzing of his phone in his pocket was what pulled you apart, the quiet vibration drawing his eyes away before your own, hands fumbling with the object as his grip on you vanished. You knew it was her when he moved to stand and look out the window, voice quiet but loud enough for you to pick up a few words. Momo probably wanted to know when he’d be home, with how late it was, not to mention he got off work hours ago. You couldn’t blame her, even if you hated the thought of him leaving, even if you loathed the times like now where the bit of daydreaming you allowed yourself got ripped away. It was like reality came to smack you back into place, like it wasn’t cruel enough to let you stay happy with Todoroki too long, because the ending was one you knew and kept ignoring nonetheless. 

He sighed when he hung up, shoving the phone back in his pocket as he stared past the glass at the dreary world down below, your body rising from the bed to stretch, ignoring the ache in your soul knowing that he had to leave, knowing that you’d be alone here and he’d be at home with her. He turned to look at you with his lips pressed into a thin line, your vision barely able to make out his features with his body blocking the light as he bent over to grab his jacket off a chair. You wondered if he meant what he said before, if he really would rather be there with you than anywhere else. You questioned if he meant it with the entirety of his heart attached like the sentiment would mean from you, or if it was empty words from a friend trying to patch up holes in your already sinking ship. 

“I gotta get going.” 

He didn’t say why and you didn’t ask, because you already knew, and you imagined perhaps he wasn’t saying why because he knew how much it hurt you. You wondered if he had any idea how in love with him you were, if he hesitated when he kissed your forehead on the way out because he was aware of how desperately you wanted to feel closer to him. You questioned if he paused when he went out the door to turn and promise to call you tomorrow because he could see how lonely you already felt without him inside, if he waved from the street below up to you in the window because he knew how sickeningly much you wished he was going to be in bed with you when you woke up. But he didn’t stay, he couldn’t stay, because he wasn’t supposed to be with you in the first place. 

He was supposed to be with her. 

And when you looked down at the shimmering gold on your palm, the straight line that caught the small bits of light refracting through the glass panes of the window, it made your throat tighten, eyes feeling as wet as the raindrops dripping from the sky. Because it was a reminder that while he was driving off to be with her, with his soulmate, you were here. It was a reminder that he got to be with someone, got to love someone fully, that the rest of the world got to have someone who cherished them and held them and longed for them with every cell in their body. Because it was a reminder that he was meant to be for her and never would he belong to you. Because it was a glaring reminder that you had only been meant for one thing. 

To be alone.

-

[next chapter]

[gotnofucks]

Loving Dodger

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Your journey of overcoming your fear of dogs to loving Dodger.

Words: 3.6k

Warning: mention of smut, language. Loads of fluff

A/N: I obviously don’t know Chris Evans, this is just a story.

MASTERLIST

+++++

Everyone was packing up and you rushed to get things in order. Your coffee had gone cold hours ago, and some poor intern would be responsible for throwing it away from wherever you had left it. Working in the film industry could be rough, and this was just backstage. You went through the set, automatically putting things in order as you moved and waved goodbye to others. Stuffing the last of your things in your overstuffed bag, you left to find a taxi. You were glad you weren’t working tomorrow morning, for you planned to have a long hot shower and an undisturbed sleep after a long time.

It was late at night and no taxis came your way. You hated taking an Uber this late, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You had only just taken out your phone when a car stopped in front of you. The driver’s side door opened, and a smiling Chris Evans greeted you.

“Can I give you a ride milady?” He asked and you snorted.

“You have the worst English accent. If you do that in London, they’ll smell the imposter in you” You said. “And it’s cool, I’m calling an uber.”

Chris frowned, leaning against the door with arms spread, his few sizes short, too tight shirt stretching over his broad frame. You felt like he needed to be arrested for the cardiac arrests he may cause.

“At this time, and even when a handsome, chivalrous man is offering a safe ride? You wound me sweetheart.” He grabbed his left boob, faking a pained expression and you sighed.

“God, you’re awful Chris. You sure it’s okay, a little out of your way isn’t it?”

“Y/n, there is not one place in the world I wouldn’t go with you”

You let your hair form a curtain to hide your blush, clearing your throat awkwardly and stepping in his car. His car smelled like his cologne, the heady scent sticking to your clammy skin. You went for the radio, soft country music running in the background.

“So, what are you doing this weekend?” Chris asked.

“I live a boring life man. I’m probably gonna clean my shit and stock my kitchen with as much instant food as I can.”

“Well, if you want, we can go somewhere. Make your boring weekend interesting.” Chris suggested, glancing at you as he maneuvered around the traffic. You fidgeted, playing with your fingers as you avoided his eyes. Saying no to him was getting difficult every time. You wished the radio was turned up louder so this conversation could be avoided.

“Oh, you know me. I like to lay in, be a lazy girl.” You tried to say nonchalantly, and Chris’s hands clenched around the wheel. You stared out the window, watching the city breeze past as things got awkward inside. You didn’t speak until he pulled up in front of your home, and you reached for the door before the car even stopped, a farewell on your tongue when you were pulled back by the seatbelt.

You blushed, hands frantically trying to undo the clasp and Chris’s hands covered yours, releasing you. You breathed deeply as he was leaning into you, face just a few inches away. You could count his lashes this close, see the exact shape of that mole on his cheek and feel his breath on you. You pulled back, quickly opening the door and almost stepping out before you were pulled back again, this time by Chris’s hand grabbing your upper arm. He tugged you back into your seat and came close enough to touch your nose with his.

“You know you can’t keep blowing me off,” He muttered. His hand tucked your hair behind your ear, blue eyes intently looking in yours. “I can’t take your no because I know you don’t mean it. Why do you keep running away?”

You gulped uneasily, wiggling out of his grip and getting out of the car. He was still looking at you, waiting for an answer. You shook your head slightly, feet kicking the ground at your feet.

“Thank you for the ride Chris. Drive safe.”

The door swung shut behind you and you walked away without another look, hiding away inside your home and trying to calm your beating heart.

+++++

You remembered disabling your alarm last night, so what the hell was that awful noise. Burrowing your head in your pillow, you tried to go back to sleep until the pounding continued. You growled, ready to rip out a new one to whoever was stupid enough to disturb your sleep. Uncaring of your attire, the t-shirt barely reaching midthigh over your panties you marched to your door, a scowl on your face.

You ripped open your door, already mid-triad before noticing who it was.

“Look, you need to shut the hell up. I work 14 hours a day, barely eat and sleep and you trying to break my door down is not –”

Chris smiled at you, amusement glittering in his eyes which raked over your bare legs. Your mouth parted for an embarrassingly long amount of time before you remembered you bed hair, morning breath (more like mourning breath) and the ratty t-shirt with holes. You pulled down on the hem, aware that you weren’t wearing a bra and it was too late to hide.

“What the hell are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” You asked Chris and he held up his hands to show he had food.

“Ungodly? Its 10 am miss, and your loyal subject is here to feed you.”

He moved past you into your house without invite, putting down the paper bag which had grease stains on it. Despite your shock and anger, your stomach grumbled, and you shut the door behind you. You rolled your eyes at his cheek, but that stuff looked too tempting to say no to.

“Since you’ve decided to intrude on my morning, make yourself useful and put on some coffee. I’m gonna change” You said and walked towards your bedroom.

“Like the way you look!” Chris shouted from behind you and you flipped him off without looking, ignoring his chuckle.

Why the hell was he here? After the way you guys had left things last night, you would have thought he would be too pissed to talk to you. You sighed as you pulled on a bra and something other than a 10-year-old t-shirt. You found him setting the table, laying down breakfast as the smell of coffee filled the kitchen. He smiled when he saw you had pulled your hair into a messy bun and winked at you.

“Here, larger portion for you.” He said handing you a plate of your favorite food. You took it, feeling like a guest in your own home as he served and poured you a mug of coffee, made perfectly as you like it. You both ate in silence for a while, the sound of cutlery the only thing to be heard. Finally, you pinned him with a stare, pushing away your plate.

“Chris, what are you doing here? Seriously.”

He chewed the morsel in his mouth before leaning his hands on the table and clasping his hands. It felt like an interview and you wished you had something better on, like an armor, to deal with whatever he was going to say.

“Well, if you want an honest answer here, I’d say I am here because I wanted to see you. I didn’t want you having some instant meal for the 10th time this week, so I got you some breakfast.”

You looked away from him, chewing on your lip. You wished he wouldn’t be so sweet. If he were a sleazy bastard, saying no to him would be so easy. Yet, here he was getting you food and being all domestic, making your life more difficult.

“Look, I appreciate this but I – Chris, we can’t happen. You need to stop this.”

It seemed like he was contemplating you, trying to guess what went on in that head of yours. He reached across to take your hand in his, lacing your fingers and stroked.

“I can’t stop. I tried, trust me I did. I can’t. I see you on the set and I want to whisk you away in the vanity away from prying eyes. I see you anywhere at all, with any other man I want to punch his face. Y/n don’t tell me I am imagining things. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You want me too, don’t you?”

The chair made a screeching noise as you snatched your hand away from his and got up, pacing the room. You were shaking your head, trying to think of a way to make him understand.

“Chris, we won’t work, you and me.”

“Why the fuck not? How can you even know if you won’t give us a chance? And I am the one who’s supposed to have fucking commitment issues.”

You wrung your hands, sitting in front of him again. He looked angry and frustrated, not knowing how much you wanted to say yes. But you knew in your heart of hearts that a very basic thing will never let you be.

“I won’t give it a chance because we’re different. We like different things, and well, sometimes they can be too much to compromise.”

“Like what, huh?”

You looked down in your lap, playing with the lint that stuck to your leggings. It was an embarrassing thing to admit, but you knew it would hold a lot of importance to this relationship. Taking a sharp breath, you told him the truth.

“I don’t like dogs. In fact, they terrify me.”

Chris lurched back as if it was the last thing he expected to come from you. He probably expected some tale of family drama or relationship trauma, but your reasons were simpler. You had cynophobia, the fear of dogs. You couldn’t be in the same room with them without getting shit scared. Chris blinked at you, like it was the dumbest thing you could have said.

“Excuse me? You refuse to go out with me because you don’t like dogs?”

You gave him a critical look, raising a brow.

“Have you seen your social media accounts? You love Dodger probably more than you love any human being. You’re a self-proclaimed ‘huge dog guy’. And me…I can’t be in the same room with one. We won’t work out Chris, and I would rather save myself the heartbreak.”

This was clearly not something Chris was prepared for. He looked baffled, not knowing what to say. You wished it were a small thing, but it wasn’t. Everyone who knew Chris could tell how much he loved dogs. His Instagram page was basically a Dodger fan page. He had the name tattooed on his body. You could never work out simply because Chris would always be choosing between you and his doggo, and you would be too busy being scared of him to enjoy your time with Chris.

He released a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

“We’ll make it happen. A lot of people fear things, and they get over it. It can work out. When you meet Dodger, you’ll forget you’d ever been scared of a dog. He’s a good boy, trust me.”

“Chris” You said shaking your head, “You don’t understand. I like dogs but only from afar. They terrify the living daylights out of me. I just – why don’t you understand? This is already so embarrassing”

He got up and sat next to you, his hand on your shoulder. “Look, just give me one chance. I know we can be great, okay? One chance is all I am asking. If it gets too much, we end it. I promise, it will be like nothing ever happened.”

You didn’t want to believe him. You shouldn’t have, but he was the man you’d been crushing on for nearly a year now. He was smart and kind and funny, he worked for the good causes and god he was such a treat to look at. You should have said no, had your coffee and left it at that. But there was only so many times you can say no to Chris Evans, especially when he’s pursuing you like the proverbial hound of hell.

“One chance Chris.”

+++++

This was a bad idea and you were regretting it already. You were practically hiding behind Chris, bunching his shirt under both hands as your head peeked over his large body. You were not ready to meet Dodger, at least not without a bomb suit.

“Hey, relax, he’s a right love. I’ve been showing him your pictures on my phone and he loves you already.” Chris tried to placate you and you replied with a pathetic whimper.

The door had barely opened before the golden brown doggo ran towards you and you squeaked. He bounded on Chris and you, Chris laughing and rubbing him behind the ear while you backed away. Dodger kept trying to come towards you and Chris had to hold him back by the collar while offering you a hand.

“Come on Y/n, he doesn’t bite. He’s a cutie.” Chris called but you shook your head, your knees vibrating. You edged away, taking deep gulps of breath as fear overtook you. It was pathetic really how scared you were since Dodger wasn’t even a huge dog, but it still took every last bit of your willpower to not just run away.

“Chris I can’t. Please.” You begged and he must have heard the fear in your voice. He pulled Dodger inside the house, the barks getting fainter as they moved in and you stayed frozen in your track. He came out after a couple minutes and immediately took your shoulders, rubbing softly.

“Hey, hey look at me. He’s inside now, okay?”

You nodded and buried your head in his chest, feeling more embarrassed than ever. Chris hugged you, shushing you gently.

“I am so sorry Chris, I just can’t. I told you this won’t work” You said, and Chris pulled away to look in your eyes. His blue eyes were determined as they stared in yours and you blinked up at him with watery eyes.

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have sprung this up on you like this. We’ll start small, okay?” He urged and you bit your lip, uncertain. Chris rubbed his nose to yours, pressing a kiss on your lips and both your cheeks. “Please Y/n, just give me more time. We’ll work it out.”

You wanted it to work out too. The dates you had gone on had been nothing short of amazing. When you were with Chris you laughed like never before, the conversation so unrestrained. You didn’t worry about hiding your flaws, feeling so comfortable in his company. And then there was the sex. It was so good. In fact, it was spectacular.

“I don’t know how we’ll make it work.” You admitted softly and Chris smiled at you, cupping your face in his huge hands.

“We’ll do it together baby. Don’t give up on us just yet please.” You pressed your forehead to his and breathed in his scent, letting it wash over you. Nodding your affirmation, you let him lead you inside his house, Dodger locked inside the bedroom.

“I feel terrible for locking him in.” You said and you did. Just because dogs scare you doesn’t mean you hate them. You just feared going near them. You watched those cute puppy videos on YouTube to help relax yourself, only you didn’t want any dogs around you.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s with his stuffed lion.”

You cuddled on the couch, watching some 90s movie and you wished with everything that this would somehow work out.

+++++

It took you a while to decide if this was heaven or hell. You were awing and yelping simultaneously, and Chris laughed from behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist. Nuzzling his nose in your neck, he bit your ear softly uncaring of the people around you.

“Oh my god” You must have said this a dozen times already, but you were simply in awe. When Chris said you’ll start small you didn’t think he meant literally. In front of you were some of the cutest, softest, smallest puppies and you finally decided this was heaven.

“I figured we’ll begin from the beginning. Go up slowly, get you used to being around canines.” He bit you again as he said that and you giggled. Turning your head, you captured his lips in an elated kiss, touched that he was going to go through this with you.

“This is amazing.” You said and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. He led you to the corner where a small black puppy with spots on his toes was wagging his tail at you. You awed, not afraid of him in the least.

“You wanna tell me about your phobia a little?” Chris asked as you cradled the pup in the crook of your elbow, the little darling loving your finger running over his small belly.

“It’s kinda silly but when I was four, I was chased by my neighbor’s dog. I ran like hell and it almost bit me before they got it back in control. I’ve feared them ever since.”

Chris hummed, kissing the pup in his own hands and giving you a soft smile.

“This helps?”

“This helps.” You agreed.

Chris and you must have petted a dozen puppies, holding them in your hands, cooing to them and kissing their small noses. You clicked pictures and fed them from your hands, a cacophony of kissy noises and good boys flowing from you both.

“I’m gonna have to hide these pics or Dodger is gonna get jealous.” Chris said and you snorted, snuggling into his side. It was a beautiful day at the shelter, and you were surprised at how fun it was. Tired as you were, you were also acutely aware of Chris’s hand creeping up your thigh in the car. You looked out the window, suppressing your smile.

“So, we made some progress today” He said, and you hummed. “And you had a lot of fun” You hummed again.

Chris pulled you to him roughly by your collar, his tongue poking out to just lick at your bottom lip.

“I think I deserve a reward…” He trailed off and you finally let a smile spread on your lips.

“I think you do Mr. Evans” You agreed and pressed your lips over his, hoping the driver will overlook the noises in the back.

+++++

Baby steps worked, and over the course of the next few weeks you got more comfortable around dogs. You spent a lot of time with pups of all breeds, slowly moving on to the bigger dogs. It wasn’t all easy, few visits ended in tears and hopelessness, but Chris stayed by your side. He let you set the pace, accompanying you every time and praising you for every obstacle you crossed. He didn’t mind spending most of the time at your place and waved off your apologies about Dodger.

“We’re doing this for him too, so he can get to know you better. It’s okay with me.” He assured you after a passionate round of love making. You traced Dodger’s name on his bare chest, finger roving over the other scattered tattoos. He loved it when you traced them with your tongue and bit his nipples.

“I think I’d like to try another visit with him.” You finally admitted, peeking up at him from under your lashes. Chris grinned, pulling you closer.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.”

“I think I’m ready Chris. I want to meet the good boy who’s sharing your heart with me.”

Rolling over you, Chris pressed kisses over your collar bones and chest, hands squeezing your curves. Your lips mashed together in a sloppy kiss and you felt him smile against you.

“There is no one else I’d rather give my heart to other than you and him.”

+++++

This time when the door opened you were not hiding behind Chris. You held a soft chew toy in your hand, a gift and an apology. Dodger ran towards Chris, tail wagging aggressively as he licked and nipped at every exposed bit of skin he could find. Chris giggled as he rubbed and scratched his baby, and you were very proud of not making any distressed sound or running away. When Dodger finally turned to you, you tentatively came towards him with the toy.

“Hello Dodger, you sweet sweet boy.” You greeted. You’d been with dogs almost as big as him now and felt little apprehension touching his soft coat. He whined under your touch, leaning into you and rubbing against your legs. Chris joined you, his hand finding yours in Dodger’s fur.

“Look buddy, mummy is ready to meet you. You like her, eh?”

Dodger barked in agreement, rolling over for belly rubs while you stared at Chris coyly.

“Mummy eh?” You teased and Chris blushed, kissing you softly.

“Well, only if you’ll have Dodger’s dad.” He said.

You playfully sat down on the floor, letting the cutie climb on your lap and scratching behind his ears that made him purr in satisfaction.

“What do you say Dodge, should I take him?” You asked and he wagged his tail, rolling around in your lap. You gazed lovingly at Chris, softly touching his bearded face.

“Well, only because Dodger says so.”

+++++

Taglist:

@shooting-star-love @what-is-your-wish @stanmysoul @littlegasps @bluemusickid @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 || you and Andy go on a trip to Greece for your birthday and discover the love you have for one another.

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 || fluffy fluff

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 || andy barber × black[birthday girl]!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 || 5.2K

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 || jealousy, some rom com cliches, divorced!andy, i used like six different dividers to match with the storyline so very sorry if that’s unusual to you!

𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 || past lives by bornes. mariposa by the peach rascals. apricot princess by rex orange country. out like a light by the honey sticks & ricky montgomery

𝒘. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 || this is a birthday gift for @areyoustchewpid!!!! happy birthday ingrid!!! everyone go wish the birthday girl the best for her special day! 💗 I hope this fic fulfills your dreams of Greece with lawyer daddy and i hope you cherubs enjoy reading this <33

 + p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

THE GOLDEN FLICKER OF PALE PINK CANDLES CREATE A HOLY CHASTE HUE AGAINST BASHFUL SMILE BRIGHTENING YOUR FACE.

an event that you’ve been expecting all day yet while a firm chestnut table sits underneath your crossed legs cools as a sweetpea and seasalt ocean breeze blows into the dining room your expectations have somewhat been granted and changed. where only a three layer chocolate cake sits between you and Andy, both your lovestruck eyes never leaving each other despite the comet rippling starry sky glimmering from the white paneled windows.

everything is all sparkling, soft pink and golden at this moment.

from the rosy dawned blush that grazes against Andy’s cheeks to the blushy tone of your sundress and beating heart. candles sparkling to life as you and him in the very moment, wax melting in rosy dewdrops just like the fear of allowing these caged emotions to fly free. now they seemed to have been unrestrained by the gold bars of worry, aversion, and self committed rejection.

simple cursive writing made of periwinkle icing contrasts against the dark fudge confection this dearest friend of yours created. this friend who might have been something more in a life way beyond this year and century but as your heart beats in a melody casted by the Muses themselves it pirouettes with the cupid bow lights dancing in Andy’s pools of hopeless paradise. it’s all enough for you to lace your fingers with his-which you do- and wish for something else to spread against your lips besides the cake you both will cut in a minute after you blow your candles.

the words below your cupid struck glance read Happy Birthday Y/n in the divine candlelight, a squeeze of his hand only encourages the rapid pace of your heart to jump and for you to swallow your hesitance. a very same feeling floods Andy’s insides but for the past minutes just sitting directly on the table, lighting your candles and enjoying the meteor shower, he hasn’t kept his promise to himself.

a promise he made for himself since the beginning of today when he discovered how his palms sweat when you neared him and how his heart warmed when you spoke his name and how his soul just sang a different song when you took his hand.

he should say something now, he should tell you how much you mean to him in this different roseate light. maybe you’ll say the same words back and maybe with the rush of the rose glasses besides you both one thing may lead to another but what comes out of his mouth makes him bite his tongue. “I hate to break it to you but wax is getting on the cake,”

those words snap you out of your amour aura, eyes fluttering for a second and smiling afterwards when you see Andy fidgeting with the crystal glass in his large hands. cheeks reddening like ripe strawberries glowing in the warmth of spring, it radiates the space between you both and with an almost whisper to your name he has your hands in his soft palms. “what do you wish for y/n?”

the question makes you swallow the raspberry rose laced lump in your throat. the love potion for an innocent drink still glistens in your glass that rests beside your body but it would spill if you would do the simple action your heart has been caressing your mind to just pull his collar down to smash his lips against yours.

to feel the tender roughness of his bearded cheeks in your palms and his lips molded along with yours in a kiss that would put all sculptured lovers to shame. it’s making you sink and float at the same time but the sparking second that Andy leans down you oblige.

“i’m sorry for not realizing it all those years,” it makes your brows scrunch in slight confusion at the confusion, his cool apricot breath wafting and twinning with your airy exhale when his nose grazes against yours. the heat of the candles underneath your close faces, you raise your hand to cup his face.

“realizing what?” its then did the breath escape your lungs and your heart to stop beating.

seeing her open her eyes the very morning brought a different comfort than to watch her sleep- it was a normal thing to wake up but to experience her lashes fluttering to life to reveal the life in her sun speckled eyes was something for Andy. she rolled over, burying her face in the crispness of white sheets with a lazy grin.

through the honeycomb glass of the white portiéres of the hotel room, the soft sunshine of the province morning streams in and lights the bedchamber. the melodic sound of birdsong and light chatter slowly rouses her awake. Andy is seated in front of the swan feathered colored vanity, combing his hair and keeping the time on track on his watch.

the man had loads planned for you both today, a day planned for you both to be bone tired at the end but still reflecting on the memories and experiences once you laid your head to rest to sleep when it was over. the tapping rhythm of his polished tar black dress shoes fills the room, making you part open your eyelids to see who’s disrupting your peaceful second slumber.

“morning sleeping beauty, happy birthday,” he almost sing-songs, a slight whistle in his voice completely overtaking any fiber of drowsy and sleep riddance that enveloped your mind and body.

“morning Andy and thank you,” you grin with your porcelain smile, stretching your arms while simultaneously lifting your sunkissed legs. arching your back in a firm crane, yearning a deep yawn from you as you savour the sunshine on your ankles and naked shoulders.

“so I have a few things planned today but I thought it would be best to eat breakfast out at the cafe we talked about instead of ordering room service. what do you think?” his eyes focused on you in the mirror and you have no choice but to glance back with your remark weighing on your tongue.

so after a smile that was more than enough to let your childhood friend know that you were along with him for the ride you found yourself ready for your special day. a slightly puffed sleeve and flowy mint green sundress adorns your bodice softly, making you radiant in the morning sun that appears to be a glowing lemon slice across the cloudless skies.

arms securely wrap around Andy’s waist as he guides the scooter the same color of the sparkling sea and reflecting powdered blue vault above. hanging on to him as he brings you both to the tiny yet timeless cafe near the roaring pier of crashing waves and ancient cobblestone streets. the bouquet of large sunflowers that were tenderly hugged tightly between both your bodies are now free in your hold. their sunshine yellow petals sway in the morning breeze and take in the virtuous sunshine that rains in golden streaks on this magical day.

taking your seat near one of the outdoor tables, shaded by the umbrella the same color as the satin banner you both order your first meal as the waiter set your beginning entry of cheese, grapes, croissants and wine on a pine wood board in between you two. street cars come and go, along with passing people looking for special sites of eternal Athens Greece. the ocean bringing a calm sea mist breeze that only adds onto the refreshing and ecstatic tangibility seizing your atoms yet as you both talk about the plans you have for today.

although the words of the waiter coming to refill your tall glasses breaks both an uncontrollable smile and laugh between you both. “couples get a discount,” he spoke and you both had a dime for when you both were mistaken for a couple you’d be swimming in a sea as large as the one that captures your irises and heart.

with his confusion Andy quickly nods along, “yes we’d take that discount thank you,” and the waiter smiles back as he steps away after filling your glasses and informing you about your meal which you both thank back.

“Andy I thought we weren’t gonna take advantage of discounts by pretending we’re a couple anymore,” you broke with a raised brow and Andy only rolled his eyes in any way that wouldn’t ever be taken seriously by anyone despite his job disposition.

“awe come on y/n let's relive old times! do you wanna pay full price when we’ve been doing this for years?” Andy looked at you through a playful demeanor that you only recognize when he’s concocting and getting away with something as seemingly harmless as this.

“i’m not really fond of the backlash when it backfires on us in the end,” you speak as you bite into a butter croissant, the rich pastry practically melting on your tongue. “also you’re making us sound like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde duo. doesn’t look good with that attorney license of yours Barber,” you laugh as you return the same eye roll back as you sit up with your glass in hand.

“remember when I booked us a reservation at that restaurant when we were in college and I freaked out over the bill? I ‘proposed’ to you and once everyone cooed and congratulated us we got our bill cut in half-”

“and I nearly kicked your ass afterwards, yeah Andy my foot is remembering the loss,” you intervene which makes Andy shake with loud laughter enough to make all the other pairs -real couples instead of you sly imposters- stop from their conversations to glance at you two breaking into hysterics whilst eating green grapes and sipping on white wine.

“to be fair we were broke college students! money was tight as hell back then but I didn’t see you complain when I got on my knees and put a ring on your finger. I thought the rhinestone looked very good with your dress that night,” popping a grape in his mouth with a humorous smirk etched on his lips.

“i’m sure you were looking forward to saying that when you gave me a kinder surprise from a candy machine.” rolling your eyes as you bite into another golden croissant, pairing it along with a nibble of creamy cheese that taste heavenly on your tongue.

“alright you can hold that against me I still deserve it,” Andy still remembers the other students in his seminar congratulating him and some who didn’t know about his engagement and divorce to Laurie still believe he’s engaged to you. it was funny and seems like something straight out of the cheesy rom coms he and you used to binge together as bored high schoolers.

that you and him used to scoff and egg on the oblivious main protagonists to just kiss and push away the denial to just be together but amongst all these couples in the morning light at this café it’s you two reliving your movie annoyances. it was hilarious and unfortunately ironic but Andy Barber didn’t see anything or comprehend the knot in your stomach when you took his hand and said something he couldn’t quite hear.

all he was paying attention to in the slow-motion picturesque of your gleaming smile, the sparkle in your deep lashy eyes and how your lips moved so theatrically as you spoke his name.

Andy, Andy, Andy

eyes glossing over in wonder, it was possibly the prettiest thing he’s seen and he’d wish to hear you say his name one more time. heart yearning to just catch your lips movement yet as his mind wedges himself back into reality he finally catches what you’ve been saying.

“Andy our food is here,” you said as the waiter came with your large glass plates of oven baked pizzas. the comforting rich smell of toasted cherry tomatoes, mozzarella cheese and freshly baked dough fill his nostrils. it's enough to cover the lush sweetness of your Dior perfume he loved taking a whiff of when you'd lean over the table to sneakily reach for his grapes and croissants.

“um, yeah thanks for the heads up,” he spoke in almost a broken sense of charisma compared to his boyish behavior minutes ago but it’s just now that’s Andy denying the feeling-

the seed of amorous that had been planted in his heart a long ago that’s beginning to sprout now.

after roaming the creaky wooden piers with the sunshine twining divinely against your hair and every inch of revealed baby soft skin. a clementine in his hands and an apricot in yours, feeding the peels to the doves that rest besides the ancient stools as Andy give hands you cardinal slice after citrusy cardinal slice.

dangling both your legs over the docks and enjoying the way the rippling waves brushed against your curling toes. sweet orange and apricot filling your mouths like the sun spreading its orange and blush provenance across the aqua waters. lonely fingers fondle with your citrus fruits that you bought with wo shiny coins from a passing vender in a straw sunhat.

savoring the ocean blue and the sunny sky revealing the cotton white clouds that dot like dollops of whipping cream upon it. the sea breeze dancing with strand hairs, the topic of a greenhouse visit sparks and a sense of adventure rushes though bloodstream. within a matter of seconds you both race to hop back on the forget-me-not scooter.

inciting a school children challenge on who’s going to get there first and with the swiftness of putting your sandals back on and running against the mossy and dandelion cracked cobblestone had you seated on the bike. “I win,” you grin and of course Andy just gives you a fauxly hurt demeanor.

“you cheated,” you only hum back at his petty exchange, playing along for his sentiment until he sighs in his defeat. with the engine starting off you and him race to the glass palace that is the greenhouse.

a golden rimmed and sea mist colored empire, it stood out to you when touring the tiny city of colorful roof houses and marketplaces. mossy vines and leafy thorned shrubbery beautifully frame the interior pillars as rich golden sunlight fill in the glassy castle. cement molds create the railing for the lily pad and swan lotuses of the man made ponds. an occasional jasmine frog leaps from pad to pad as the milky pink and yellow koi’s swim about in the shadowy water.

exotic trees and wild plants bunch throughout the establishment, creating shade against the Apollo’s heavy rays as Andy lifts his head to marvel these large and tall works of Artemis. of course, with your polaroid camera you found in the rummage of your closet (that you haven't used since senior year of college) in a tight hold. wandering feet walk through the limestone pavement of the greenhouse, a sunflower in your hair that brightens the deep greens succulents and rich browns tree bark.

the vines of soft pink and purple flowers dangling from the glassy dome roof fall their baby pink petals as a breeze presents itself. some already settling in the brown tawny of Andy's hair, not far behind you smile at your face glossed in wonderstruck marvel. wide honey brown pools trail up the ten foot marble and ivory statue, reflecting in serenity cosmoses from the rainbows that spread from the crystal glass.

a sense of desire takes ahold of you as your slowed hands lift to trace your dark fingertips through the crinkle wrinkle of a marble maidens skirt. such detail and intricate design of the craftsman long ago must’ve took years to perfect, the cloth falling seamlessly upon the maidens body as her body crouches to run your clay hand again at the pond water. lifting your camera to your eyes, snapping your desired pictures that are set to capture all the whimsical aspects and elements that take your breath away.

Andy dares to draw near, it wasn’t like he hasn’t stood close to you at all- he might be making it hard on himself by overthinking ever move and step but you call out his name and his heart paces.

“yes y/n,” making his way to where you sit near a pond, you don’t say anything as you wrap the strap for the camera around your neck. fixing up your dress from any wrinkles from scrunching the hem up when dipping your feet in the sea earlier. checking your hair and make up in your hand mirror that you retrieved from your designer purse. an arched brow raises up at you, which you only respond by rolling your eyes and hand him the camera as you smile at yourself in the reflection of the ponds water.

“can you take a picture of me?” as you reapply another layer of gloss on your lips, the fishes swirling in the water to jump to the service to witness the beautiful nymph who have graced their pond themselves.

cupid bows perk at the fish and blow them kisses, your hands grab at a floating lotus before grasping the tender water blossom. putting it in the raven coils that delicately frame your face, damn it y/n.

it was as if you were torturing him with those mascara bambi eyes and glossy primrose lips, it makes his insides buzz and flutter like the malachite dragonfly that passes here and there.

“you telling me you want a picture or did you already decide for me yourself?” you only smack his chest with the camera once again.

“are you going to take the picture or not Barber? did you loose some of your magic with all that lawyer jumbo clouding your head or did you take those freshman photography lessons seriously?”

Andy rolls his eyes and takes the camera from you with a chuckle, “actually i’m still capable of using a camera y/l/n, god you’re making me feel old. go model for me,” you just laugh and run across to the other side of the pond.

soft skin from your legs revealed from the way your sundress lifts bends against your chest. head resting upon your knees while your arms wrap around them, the sunflower in your gasps and the lotus behind your ear. at this moment as the seconds turn into minutes Andy should be taking pictures, his eyes are looking through the lens as his index finger rests on the button.

with as much as single press he captures the greenhouse nymph but what good would a single picture do to capture every gift and grace you bestowed in the offering of your charm, beauty and heart?

it makes Andy's heart race, your eyes dashing from the godly statues that surround you to the camera. sweet music plays in deep cherry wood cellos and willow carved violins and even with the buzzing dragonfly it seems it found its favorite flower at the tip of your nose.

you certainly are the creation and waking of spring flowers and lovesick tales that took his heart then and its still yours now.

that single snapshot was all he could think about you two drove down south to the coast. searching back the drunk nights before where you and him ran into a little covelete whilst drinking goblet after goblet in the forest of olive and grape vine trees. it was a long ride but nothing suited the wait better than the man on the radio singing with his strung trichordo.

the hands that grip Andy's shoulder slide down to wrap your arms around him tightly when the minutes pass and the forest of green olives and sangiovese grapes. parking the scooter near the shrubbery of some innocent bush you and him look for the wine stash the both of you left in the abandoned cavern of an ancient olive tree. Andy grinning as he grabbed the expansive bottle and before you know it you both head to the hidden beach.

Andy didn't plan to actually go swimming, just settle the gingham blanket upon the finely grain sand and open the picnic you both prepared. and he also didn't prepare himself for the rosy blush to dawn his face when your almond nails grip the hem of your sundress to lift it up and over your head. revealing your matching bathing suit underneath its quick that you throw him a wink and race to the nearby grassy cliff.

"see you soon Barber!" you yell and as Andy gets up from the blanket to understand what you mean by that its too late. the summer air is filled with your laughter and sky rippling cheer as you jump off the cliff and dive into the cloud blue water. the splash nonexistent from your perfect swoop.

if only he had the polaroid on him to capture the way your smile gleamed brighter than the sun reflecting off the sparkling water the the way your eyes cutely scrunched like sand dollars under the warmth of golden sand.

the silver green of the olive trees emphasize the richness of your skin. the rich skin he couldn't keep his sapphires off as you laugh your choir laugh that would make Apollo cease his chariot to listen to the siren of Olympus once more. dancing in the turquoise waves of the coast, they crash against your soft mounds, curves, and dips of sun glistening hips and waist.

how could he have been so blind?

rage and anguish slosh around in his mind that pour melancholic rain onto his heart, you were there for him through thick and thin. a friend he believed but how could he have buried that yearn and longing for you all those years?

it's almost criminal to the highest degree and he'd know his side of the justice system but how could that distract him from you? his head was far too buried in those lawbooks to realize, too oblivious to his emotions when you'd date and hang around other people that weren't him. looking far into the looking glass hoping that his work would pay off in the future, meeting another woman and putting a ring on her finger.

now here he is, a divorced man but a still very much happy man. lonely at times with his only child in the custody of his ex wife but still very happy with the comfort and support of you. it was you who helped him from the tears at night and it was you who he wasn't scared to open up to. even the past few months he didn't realize it but now as you call his name to get in the water he doesn't hesitate to pull his shirt over his head and take his shoes and socks off.

joining you in the water in a mater of a few heartbeats, it was as if you were a sea spirit calling for him and even if you weren't he's happily obliging when the small waves collide against his skin. both your laughs rippling the ocean in this small ocean paradise, swimming in the richness of the present never would have guessing that throughout all these years you be here.

the salt water on your skin has dried as you and Andy walk side by side, your shoes rubbing against the gravel of the cobblestone paths as both you peer at the vendors and food stands arranging from rainbow scaled fish, fresh sesame seed breads, farm produced milks and cheeses, and vibrate fruits and vegetables. hands twined together in a firm hold, unfathomable excitement practically radiating off of you while you chat and giggle with Andy.

the topic of the conversation changing every few minutes when you find a stand that grabs your attention. curious eyes and wandering hands look over organic produce and homemade goods the people had to offer. the golden clutch of your purse being opened multiple times and Andy's mouth being stuffed with jam, cheese and fruit samples on the account of you. as you did you shopping he did as well, the ingredients for a sweet treat he had planned for you later on tonight are in a brown paper bag amongst your purchases.

of course he had to carry them all, not in obligation but because he didn’t want you to worry about shopping too much when you’re in the midst of enjoying your vacation. by all means he certainly wasn’t complaining, if anything he liked having you giddy and bursting with energy. practically dragging him from stand to stand and carrying your bags filled with stuff that you’d bring back home and try.

the village square where the marketplace takes place is tinted in an ambrosial hue, the sun now a glowing slice of grapefruit against the peachy pink carnation sky. lavender clouds that seem so close to grasp tower above you both yet they don't prevent the suns glow from capturing the beautiful soft planes of your face.

luscious and softer than the bouquet of sunflower carnations he surprised you with as you looked at the variety of sunhat options. one that you just purchased rests floppily against your temple but still doing its job at keeping you shaded from the suns glare. wrapped in a silky green bow, Andy smiles at how huge it is but it just makes you look divine and adorable in your sundress.

holding his hand tighter before tracing them up his forearm to softly grasp his bicep, it you who's leaning against him and pulling him close to you. the feeling of your body alongside his is warmer then any sunshine that seeps into his skin and lovelier than any of the flowers the market had to offer.

it’s hard to give you one excellent gift to give back all those years of commitment and loyalty and friendship but the way your lips spread in that enchanting smile it’s enough to make Andy know -despite the both of you not saying it- that you feel the same way to.

the bouquet in both your holds lifting up every once in a while for Andy to smell and for you to admire as you walk away from the noisy market. a little behind the village were the spring green of the countryside clashes within the stone brick city is a valley of flower arbors and hedge mazes. it was the last pitstop Andy the bags in both your hands settle down against the safety shadow of a maple trees shade and with a little laugh and an excited squeal he run to the flower arbors.

green rows of soft shrubbery dotted and laced in colorful blossoms stand in multiple rows upon rows look over of petunias and carnations. small apple and lemon trees in potted beds line up within the flowery hedges and no matter where you look it’s only the divination of spring and the gifts it bestows the Earth with. wooden picnic basket that was once used from your beach picnic is now empty but it’s quickly filling with the sweet smelling beauties of the flowers and fruits and you pluck.

Andy not fair behind you captures your wondering body in the still frame pictures of your polaroid camera. the pictures emerging quickly afterwards, he’s quick to fab them off and place them in your small picture album. turning your head over your shoulder your caught with Andy having the perfect opportunity to snap a picture that would be a bedtime story to tell with a child of his and yours.

it’s perfect and breathtaking, no matter the feeling of his heart thumping in its lingering hesitance you were the star that’s still continues to shine despite being out in broad daylight. it pulled at his heart strings because he knew what this feeling was, this feeling that he been avoiding to come to terms with all day but why was he so terrified?

the fear of rejection wouldn’t burst his heart but it would remind him that he was alone. a man like him wasn’t born to walk this Earth, wake to the sun and sleep with moon alone. the very presence of you besides him made him feel all the things besides lonely and bare to the universes cruelness at times. but maybe you felt the same way about him.

he only had one way to find out and he was set on keeping it, whatever sea he had to cross, valley he had to travel to and the plummeting ends to the Earth he will pronounce his love.

snapping another picture of you, you smile in it and with that he smiles to.

"realize what Andy?" you press on but in the rosy candle light his lips pressed against yours seems to be the only answer he can bring himself to conclude.

it's takes the breath out of your lungs and makes your heart blush and burn deeper and hotter than the tiny flames that decorate the cake. the roughness of his bottom lip that have been occasionally bitten the past minutes of dancing around your feelings. the nerve of you both to push aside your feelings for each other because the fear of breaking each others hearts.

if only your past selves could see you now, shedding your hearts and allowing the key to them to finally open the gates of vulnerability and yearn. the passionate lovesick mess tastes delicious against your mouths and you both could get drunk off it instead of the rose. sweet and inching for more as your lips part to graze against each other, but in order to seal the prophecy of established lovers Andy pulls away.

"that i'm in love with you. that i've always been in love with you. it's been years and i'm sorry for just realizing it now but I need to know if you feel the same way. please tell me now, please," he whispers against your lips.

now its your turn for our heart to skip beats and take in each and everyone of his words. fluttering eyes drowning in his copper blues, you open your mouth to say something but nothing but a soundless nothing comes out. all these years your love for Andy has been buried deep within you and you've tried your best to hide that seed. to plow in new seeds because what use was that seed if it never flourished when he'd feel the same way.

you don't realize until you feel the tear dripping down your cheek, he wipes it with his thumb. pressing a kiss where it once existed and it's now that you realize that it's always come to this. your lives weren't entirely paved in stone but the love that has a faith of its own is something that changes as the pages of a storybook turn.

this virtuous night being the newest chapter and as much as you're scared to follow along your heart has been waiting for this moment for so long. with those teary eyes that bring some to his own you smile and pull his face with yours, pressing your lips with his to mark your answer clear, to make him feel the way you feel.

"i've always felt the same. dear god Barber it took you twenty years and it all worked out didn't it?" you giggle against his mouth, feeling his grin as he kisses you back.

"what did you wish for?" he murmurs and you only smile and wrap your arms around his neck, "this,"

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[ejlovespie]

I know You

(Part 2 of 2)

Fandom: Supernatural - Author: EJ (@ejlovespie)

Summary: The reader was attacked and stabbed by a shapeshifter disguised as the man she loves. Will she be able to face her trauma and finally tell him how she feels? Read Part 1. 

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1726

Warnings: Graphic Violence/Near Death/Fear/Angst/Insecurity/Suicidal thoughts and descriptions/Eventual Fluff

***Part 1 has GRAPHIC details of being stabbed and assaulted. Do NOT read if violence and descriptions of assault (sexual comments and being thrown onto a bed) are a trigger for you. Part 2 has suicidal thoughts and descriptions. Please do NOT read if suicide is a trigger for you. ***

Reader’s Request: Can you pleaaase write a dean x reader angst+fluff+near death one shot where they have feelings for each other but they're too insecure to say anything about it, and then one day the reader is in a motel room alone waiting for dean and Sam to come back from somewhere, and suddenly shapeshifter dean comes in and stabs her multiple times and leaves her bleeding on the floor until real Dean and Sam come back.

A/N: Thank you for the request Anon!! This one was tough to write but I really hope you enjoy it. I am SO SORRY it took so long. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading! :) 

You were used to Dean Winchester being a constant in your dreams. That was what happened when you were in love with someone. You used to eagerly await sleep and the gift your mind would give you at night. Dreaming of Dean had been the only form of intimacy you were allowed...Until now. You still dreamt of him but your dreams had turned into nightmares. Images of being thrown on the bed, those dark, hate filled eyes staring into you, a knife plugging into your body. Every night you woke up screaming in terror. Sam would run to your room and turn on the lights before hugging and comforting you but his kindness had made you feel worse. The truth was you hated yourself. Dean was gone because of you, apart from his brother because of you.    

It had been two months since the attack. You spent four weeks in the hospital before being discharged and given a hundred pamphlets on trauma. Dean had come by a few times but stopped trying when you would see him and immediately have a major panic attack. Eventually, he left and never came back. Sam had told you he was hunting the shifter and giving you space to heal and that had made you feel worse. Knowing you pushed him away made your chest ache. You LOVED Dean Winchester and your heart broke knowing he had found you and rushed you to the hospital. He had saved your life and stayed by your side every day and you repaid him by losing your shit whenever he walked in the room. Logically you knew what happened wasn’t Dean’s fault. You KNEW He didn’t do anything wrong but your reaction to seeing him was always the same. You didn’t see the man you loved when you looked into his eyes, only the nightmare you had lived through. 

You and Sam had been staying at Bobby’s for the last month and every time you glanced at the single framed photo of the boys on the desk you broke out into a sweat. Eventually, the photo had disappeared and you hated the relief you had felt. There were days you were so miserable and you hated yourself so much that you wondered why you had survived the attack in the first place. You would have been better off dead. At first you tried to read through the information from the hospital’s psychiatrist but you ended up throwing all the pamphlets away. You had taken her advice and tried going out and for a walk but anxiety had forced you back inside, tears streaming down your face. Sam would try to talk to you, had even tried getting you out of the house to hit the library with him but you couldn’t do it. Every day, the grief you felt grew until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Waking up from yet another night terror, you grabbed the knife you had been hiding in your bedside table. Pulling it out, you stared at the blade for a long time while silent tears ran down your face. You clutched the knife in your hands and let yourself feel all of the pain, all of the grief and self-hatred you had been carrying. It washed over you until numbness took its place. You couldn’t live like this. You thought about Sam and Bobby and all of the people you had helped over the years. Would they forgive you? You thought about Dean, the man you loved; the man you missed more than anything and fought against the fear you now associated with him. Suddenly, a memory flooded your thoughts.

You were driving down a long country road in the Impala. Dean was driving and blaring one of his tapes, singing along to it like he didn’t have a care in the world. You were surrounded by green fields and you smiled at the cows and horses grazing lazily. Your hair whipped around your face and you smiled when you breathed in deeply. You smelled the grass and wet pavement outside but even more strongly you could smell Dean’s cologne and the familiar leather and gasoline smell of the car. It was your favorite smell in the world. You looked at Dean when he turned the music down. With his familiar grin he asked, “What are you smiling about?” 

You looked at him then, into his gorgeous green eyes, and you studied his face. His full lips and perfect smile, straight nose, and strong jaw. He was so handsome and his focused gaze made you blush. That was the moment you realized you had fallen in love with the older Winchester. It washed over you, a feeling of pure happiness and comfort. Dean was smiling at you and he poked you in the side before asking, “C’mon Y/N. What are you so happy about?”   

Turning away from him, you swatted his hand away playfully. “Keep your eyes on the road Winchester. I don’t feel like dying today.”

Chuckling, Dean complied, placing his hand back on the wheel and looking back at the open road. He continued, “You look happy is all..you’re smiling bigger than I have seen before. So, what’s up?”  

I love you, you thought to yourself. Instead of answering him you asked a question of your own. “Why are you so happy? I know you and you aren’t this happy unless you’re eating pie.” Laughing again, Dean shrugged before turning the music up and singing along loudly with the song. You laughed too and started to sing along with him, content and happy living in the moment.      

The memory faded. Looking down at the knife in your arms, you threw it on the ground and forced yourself to settle your breathing. ‘I know you.’ You said it out loud to yourself and forced yourself to think about your Dean. His smile. His laugh. His eyes. ‘I know you.’ Him singing along to the music in his car. ‘I know you.’ Him hugging you to him whenever one of you was sad. ‘I know you.’ Him fixing up his beloved car at Bobby’s. ‘I know you.’ The two of you drinking together and his goofy grin as he teased you about the faces you made. ‘I know you.’ His fierce love and protectiveness for his family. ‘I know you.’ All of the memories had your eyes welling up again and you quickly got up and slid out the front door so you didn’t wake Sam or Bobby. Running down the drive, you collapsed in the garage and began to sob. When your tears finally began to run out you gasped out the truth you had never said out loud before.

“I am so fucking sorry Dean..I love you so fucking much and I..I miss you..I..I can’t do this without you because my life isn’t worth living without you in it. You’re my best friend and loving you has made me stronger. It has made me feel truly alive and I..I am so sorry...I know you. I fucking know you and I know that thing wasn’t you! Please come back.”

You jumped at a sound behind you and whipped your head around to see Dean. He stood a few yards away with unshed tears in his eyes. Relief filled you when you realized you didn’t feel panic rising up inside you. For the first time in two months you were only seeing your Dean. A smile spread across your face before falling. “..You heard what I said, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. You could tell by the look on his face he had. Dean slowly walked toward you, pausing a few feet away and crouching down. “I love you too, Y/N. I..I didn’t know it until I almost lost you but I do. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me..You made me feel again and if you had died, you would have taken a piece of me with you.” 

Gasping, you flung yourself to him and let Dean wrap his arms around you. You buried your face in his chest and clung to him, inhaling his cologne. You felt his hands on your back, rubbing small, calming circles. With a watery smile, you reached up and fingered the pendant on his necklace. It brought you instant comfort and you repeated your new mantra silently in your head. ‘I know you.’ This was your Dean. You would always know the difference. You both stayed like that for a long time, embracing each other. Neither of you even noticed when Sam walked up, looking for Y/N, and then backing away as to not ruin the moment. Eventually, you pulled apart and just looked at each other. Tentatively, Dean placed a hand on your cheek, pausing to study your face for approval. You nodded and he rubbed his thumb over your skin. 

His eyes were so soft and he was looking at you with so much love and tenderness it made you self conscious for the first time in months. Glancing away in embarrassment you wished you were wearing something other than a baggy, stained shirt and sweatpants. You knew how you looked and were all too conscious of the fact that you were an absolute mess. Thinking about your puffy red eyes and matted hair had you cringing. How could this gorgeous man love you in the same way you loved him. You were so far out of his league. Dean’s fingers gently lifted your chin to look up at him before brushing some hair out of your face. “Please don’t hide from me, beautiful. I have missed you so much. I know it's going to take some time but I want you to know I found the son of a bitch. He’s dead..And I promise I will NEVER let anyone touch you again. I will keep you safe. I hope that helps..” 

Not sure what to say you just nodded and hugged him again. You would analyze that information and how you felt about it later. For now, you were going to let yourself be held by the man you loved, a man who apparently loved you back, and be grateful for the fact that you were alive and finally together.

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[nazyalenskyism]

Unusual Encounters

A/N: This fic is for the GVBB's mini bang @grishaversebigbang! We're so excited that we get to finally share our works with with you!  @sketcherooroo ‘s fantastic art for this fic can be found here, and @art-by-me19 ‘s fantastic art for this fic can be found here!

Summary: With impossible stakes on the line for both the Ravkans and the Crows, the last quiet moments before the chaotic auction provide a brief opportunity for peace.

Ao3: Unusual Encounters

        “You don’t trust them,” Inej’s voice whispered in his ear. She had quietly found her way to his shoulder, as she always had but something was different now. Ever since he’d caught her eye at the Slat, when she’d nearly leapt down to avenge him in what she’d thought were his final moments, he could sense that she saw through him, truly saw him. It was a feeling he had avoided, when his Crows tried to get to know him, or other bosses tried to figure him out, he’d evaded their attempts as easily as he slipped out of handcuffs. But Inej was different, she always had been. Even when he had guarded himself from her, she had always been able to find a way to understand him. It was an unspoken part of the pact they shared.

        “I don’t trust anyone.”

��       He could feel her gaze on him without turning to confirm it, the dark brown of her eyes posing a question, maybe a challenge,  don’t you? And she was right, didn’t he trust her? He had trusted her with his secrets for years, as much as he hated to think that he had let anyone know any part more of him than the lies he’d built around himself, he trusted Inej, and that was the truth. Fortunately for him, he was not virtuous or honorable like his Wraith and therefore he had no issue with lying, it was what thieves and conmen did, and he felt no shame in that.         He ignored the look. “I don’t need to trust them. They care about their country, they were desperate enough to come make a deal with a thief from the Barrel because they have no other choice. They need Kuwei to save the Grisha, and they will pay any price for that. The idea that they could let him slip from their fingers is so unfathomable that I don’t need to trust them. Their position makes them predictable.” 

        Kaz flipped his pen between his fingers, allowing himself a moment to contemplate. He believed that what he had told Inej was the truth, but there was something about the Ravkans that made him want to hesitate. He had never played games alongside Kings before, and while he’d heard much about the incompetence of the Fjerdan king and the old Ravkan King, there were fewer whispers about the current king than there were shouting remarks. People in Little Ravka had hung banners for the new king, singing about the Boy King, the King of Scars, who had supposedly been taken prisoner and tortured by the Darkling. Kaz didn’t care about Ravkan politics, but in his business, secrets and knowing your surroundings were key, and there was something to be said of a man who had been king for years, yet had managed to keep any rumors from finding their way down into Inej’s hands, and then Kaz’s. Perhaps there was even more to the royal than Kaz had let himself see. He would have to keep note of that, no good came from underestimating your allies and enemies.

        “You like him,” Inej mused, following his line of sight to the boy king turned pirate, “why?”         “I don’t like anyone, Wraith.”

        “You like Jes,” Inej countered, “you like Wylan and Nina, maybe even Kuwei and Matthias, and you like--” she broke off, turning away from him. Kaz desperately wanted to reach out and say, what, exactly? That he did like her, that it was more than like, that he valued her beyond her talents. That he appreciated her strength, her light, the magic she brought into his world that he had long since dreamt was impossible to conjure? But they didn’t have time for that, and she did not want to hear those words from him. 

        “Would you trust a pirate?”

        “He’s a privateer Kaz, authorized by the Ravkan king to be here, accompanied with the highest ranking Grisha in the world.” 

        “You didn’t answer the question,” he rasped, amusement pulling at him.

        “If I’ve learned anything from you, it’s to never trust anyone, so no,” she relented, hand brushing over her knives, and he knew she must be asking the Saints to spare them a betrayal.         Kaz knew that if they did face a betrayal, he would put money on his crew to come out on top any day.                                                                ***

        “Look at them,” Zoya hissed from over his shoulder. They were mulling over the plan they had concocted for the auction the following day, hunched over a desk in the corner of the room. 

        “Who, Nazyalensky?”         “Nina, her Fjerdan, the Wraith, the Barrel rat, the Grisha and the merchant boy, the whole lot of reprobates.”

        “So, everyone?” Nikolai muttered, amending the papers before him, the inner workings of Mister Brekker’s mind laid out before him. The plan was clever, but to someone who had built their life upon being clever, he could tell there were obvious omissions, Brekker was clearly up to something more than what he’d written down, but Nikolai would expect nothing less from the boy who’d orchestrated a heist into the Ice Court.             “You should be more worried,” she huffed, snatching the pen from his hand to scribble something down, “they’re not trustworthy.”

        “I don’t trust them, Nazyalensky. We’re simply allied towards a common goal.”

        “Allies don’t trust one another?”

        “I believe they’ll keep their side of the deal because they want their money, and they want Kuwei to make it out of Kerch alive. We are useful to them for that reason, so they won’t break the deal.”

        “So our plans hinge on the wants of a group of children?”

        “You were about their age during the civil war,” Nikolai said, “besides, I thought you would be elated that she’s alive,” he hummed, thinking back to how devastated Zoya had been when she’d come back from the mission where Nina went missing. She’d spent weeks searching for the girl, and it was only an order from him that had brought her back from searching the oceans for that Drüskelle ship, and though she’d never said it, Nikolai knew she had resented him for it.         “She’s being reckless! A Fjerdan— not to mention a Drüskelle? What is she thinking?”

        “That she loves him.” In the corner of the room, Nina sat with her legs splayed out over the boy-- Matthias’ lap as she indulged in a plate of waffles, heaping with whipped cream and strawberries. The Fjerdan simply smiled as Nina rambled on about the exact viscosity required for syrup to best enhance the waffle-eating experience, the smile transforming into reddening cheeks and an abashed look when she dalloped cream onto his nose.

        Zoya huffed, looking away from the pair, “love is for fools.”

        Nikolai cut her a glance, “ruthless as always, Commander. They found each other and despite all circumstances managed to fall in love. That’s the stuff stories are made of.”

        “You need to cut down on the novels, you’re too much of a romantic already. I fear for your future bride.”         “Not marriage talk again, Nazyalensky. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to get rid of me.”         “Clearly I’m failing,” Zoya muttered as Brekker motioned for everyone to gather round to discuss the plan. “If I had been successful, you’d be bobbing for herring in a canal.” 

        Brekker raised a gloved finger causing his gang to quiet like a group of children falling in line before their governess. Interesting. Not only was the thief an expert in disguise and evading attention, but commanding it was another skill entirely. Nikolai wondered what scars the boy bore, to don gloves like Nikolai’s own. What horrors caused a 17 year old to rise to being the most notorious Barrel Boss in Ketterdam, after years of climbing up the ladder and making a monstrous name for himself?  

        “Everyone out except the Grisha and the Pirate.” 

        “Did you hear that, Nazyalensky,” Nikolai muttered under his breath as the others began to protest, “‘the Grisha and the Pirate. Sounds like a rousing title for a play, though I do prefer ‘The World’s Handsomest, Most Skilled Privateer, and the Grisha.” 

        “I prefer, “The Pirate Who Finally Shut up Because the Grisha Ripped Out His tongue.”

        “Privateer,” he corrected, returning her glare with a wink. “Such vivid imagery, Commander, have you ever considered becoming a playwright?”         “Perhaps I’ll pursue that avenue once this plan goes to hell and our country falls because of it. I’m sure it pays better.” 

        Nikolai laughed, their attention turning back to the gang as Brekker held up a hand again, “we will discuss the final plan once the details have been agreed upon and the Ravkans are back at their embassy.” 

        The tall Zemeni boy-- Jesper, halted on his way out of the room, peering back around the door, “what about the airship?”

        “What?” Kaz’s voice was irritable, or perhaps that’s how it always sounded. Then again, Nikolai thought as he caught Brekker’s eyes drifting towards the girl perched on the open window sill behind him, sunlight glinting against her plait, firing a similar light behind his eyes, maybe not always.         “Perhaps if you visit Ravka, you’ll get a chance then,” Nikolai replied coyly, winking at the boy.         “Yes,” Zoya added, as he let out a laugh, turning around to leave, “you’ll find that doors in Ravka are always open to those wanting to seek entry.”

        “What was that?” Nikolai muttered as the others followed the boy out, “that was so cryptic that I barely put it together.”

        “How else was I supposed to allude to it, Sturmhond? I can’t very well say, ‘you’re a Grisha, you should come to train at the Little Palace right this instant?’ You’re the brains, I’m the muscle.”         “Why, Zoya, did you just call me smart?” 

        “You’re as smart as I am pleasant,” she retorted, moving towards the table Brekker and the Wraith were at.         “Fortunately for me, I find your company to be nothing short of intoxicating, Nazyalensky.”

        She rolled her eyes as they sat down across from Brekker and the girl named Inej, Nikolai spreading their plans out next to Kaz’s. 

        “So,” he said, letting the voice of authority slip him as easily as he slipped into his teal frock coat, “where do we begin?”

[fific7]

There May Be Trouble Ahead - Part 2

John Whittaker x Reader

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s all lemon zest 🍋 because the world deserves more of the over-eager puppy that is the handsome Johnny Whittaker. And puppies need discipline.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected sex between consenting adults*. Some drinking.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(Not my GIF, credit to owner)

The following weekend, John parked his car with a flourish, jumping out of it and bouncing up the front steps of her mansion flat in town, noticing that it had a nice view of a small park across the road. Ringing the doorbell, he fervently hoped that she hadn’t changed her mind since he’d telephoned her during the week to reconfirm the details for today. He was excited about this second date. He’d been pleased when she’d given him both her address and home number without hesitation on the night of their first date, and she hadn’t said anything adverse during the midweek call. That had to be promising.

Surely that would have been the perfect opportunity to belatedly decline his invitation?

When she opened her front door, he wished her an exuberant ’good afternoon’ while being much taken with the vision of loveliness which presented itself to him. She was resplendent in a pretty floral dress, matching high heels and a floppy sun hat in a contrasting colour, and he thought she looked absolutely adorable. And told her as much, which made her blush. He loved it when she blushed. He was, in the meantime, admiring her curves and he could see a little more of her shapely legs today, her dress being very slightly shorter than the skirt she wore previously.

He was still gazing at her when he felt a stirring in his loins. It really had been quite a while since a woman had elicited that response from his now usually dormant manhood. With all the recent emotional upheaval, his libido had been truly and utterly extinguished.

Oh! he thought, looking down quickly at the growing bulge in his trousers, I’m very pleased to be in this state but… umm. He quickly clasped his hands in front of his fly.

Looking back up at her, he could tell by her expression that she was feeling very anxious and indeed, instead of greeting him, she burst out, “Do you really think this is a good idea, John? We have only just made our acquaintance but you’re taking me to meet your family? They may hate me!”

He smiled at her, “Believe me, it’s entirely possible that it will be the other way round!” She smiled back at him, “I’m sure it won’t be.” Grinning, he said, “You haven’t met them yet!” “John! You’re not exactly reassuring me!” He reached out a hand, “Come along, it will be fine, honestly. Don’t worry about anything!” She turned slightly and picked up a clutch bag from the hall table. “I’ll try not to,” she replied.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your first thought on opening the door was, ‘how handsome he looks!” He was wearing cream trousers, a stone-coloured shirt and a cream waistcoat, very dashing. You noticed his dark eyes staring at you, and hoped that what you’d chosen to wear was suitable for a tea party with his family.

However he’d immediately complimented you so hopefully that meant you’d passed muster. Then you couldn’t help mentioning how anxious you were feeling and while he didn’t exactly make you feel less so, by the time you took his hand and let him lead you down to his car, your nerves were beginning to subside a tiny little bit.

His car was a really rather smart sports number and he opened the passenger door for you, not letting go of your hand until you’d seated yourself in it, gracefully you hoped. Then he leapt into the driver’s seat and started up the engine, a loud purring sound in the quiet street. You saw a curtain twitch at the next-door window and smirked. Good! This’ll give that awful Euphemia girl something to think about. She was always making snide passive-aggressive remarks about the lack of gentlemen in your life - as if she had any herself! It twitched again and you cheerily waved at her, the lace curtain instantly dropping back into place.

“Neighbour of yours? A friend?” John nodded towards the window. You gave a rather unladylike snort, “God no. She’s ghastly. I avoid her like the plague.” He laughed, and as the car pulled away from the kerb you glanced at him, “So. Who is going to be at tea today?” He was concentrating on navigating the car through the streets but replied, “Oh, let’s see… just Mother and my two sisters Hilda and Marion. Although I do think mater might’ve said something about Sarah possibly dropping in too.” “Sarah?” you questioned. He shifted in his seat, “My ex. We were almost engaged at one point, but…” he shrugged, “…Larita happened.”

You got a sinking feeling in your stomach. His ex? Why on earth was she joining you? And who was Larita? You asked him as much and he cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable, “Larita is my ex-wife. And Sarah - although we’re no longer involved - has a kind of big sis thing going on with me, I think. To be honest, our whole relationship was always very much like brother and sister. No hanky-panky, you know?” He gave a nervous laugh. “She’ll be over to have a gander at you, no doubt - make sure you’re not going to steal the family silver.” You couldn’t stop yourself laughing out loud, “Have no fear! I’ve concealed my burglar’s Swag Bag very well.” He joined in your laughter, “Hate to disappoint you, darling, but we’ve got no silver left to steal!”

Darling? you thought… he’s forward! “That’s not a problem,” you replied, “filthy lucre’s not really my scene.” His head turned towards you, “What’s your scene? Tell me,” he said. “Oh… you know. Someone with a brain so I can have a decent conversation. Someone who can make me laugh. And treat me like a princess.” He pulled up momentarily at a crossroads and his eyes met yours, “I can do all of those,” he said earnestly, “I promise you that I can.” You laughed, suddenly slightly shy due to how sincere he sounded. “Can you? That’s encouraging, John.”

“Yes, I can. I’ll prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

You smiled at him. “Well, it’s very early days but we’ll see, shall we?”

He nodded, eyes gazing into yours, “We shall indeed.”

A car horn tooted behind you. He changed gears and turned the car towards the fields and meadows.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

(Flintham Hall, the Whittakers’ residence)

The car tyres crunched over the gravel of the wide driveway and he drew the car to a halt in front of “The Family Pile”, as he called it. When he’d turned the car off the road and driven between two huge gate posts and then past a gatehouse, you knew that his house was going to be rather large. And it was. It wasn’t quite Blenheim Palace, but it wasn’t too far off.

“John,” you said, slightly in awe, “…what a beautiful house.” He grinned, “The original part of the house was built in 1798, not by us though. It was extended first of all in… um, 1820 I think. The Whittakers eventually inherited it through marriage in the mid-1840’s, and they extended and remodelled again a few years later. Been in the family ever since. Bit shabby round the edges nowadays,” he gave a self-deprecating laugh, “…somewhat like myself.”

He jumped out of the car in typically energetic fashion, coming round and opening your car door, “I’ll give you the full guided tour after we’ve had tea.” He took your hand again and led you towards the main entrance. “They’ll all be on the terrace, no doubt. Or… maybe in the conservatory. Come and meet them.”

You smiled, “You’re not, you know.” He stopped in his tracks, looking back at you, a confused look on his face, “I’m not what?” “Shabby,” you answered, and began walking again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

John’s heart gave a little leap. She sounds…. interested, he thought. Could she possibly like me? Oh, I do hope so.

He led her inside the house, spotting their butler gliding towards them and waving him off, “It’s fine, Furber, it’s just me and my guest,” and giving her a quick smile, guided her through the large hall and into the large, high-ceilinged conservatory. “Oh, no sign of them in here after all. The plants are probably too overgrown to take tea amongst. We’ve only got one doddery old gardener left now, and it takes him all his time to look after the grounds never mind in here. Poor old Bob.”

He tugged her hand and gently pulled her back out into the hall then cut through a grand sitting room, where French windows were already lying open. He propelled her swiftly towards them; he could tell by the tenseness of her hand in his that she was getting nervous again, and he really didn’t want her to take flight in the opposite direction. “Terrace it is then!” he sang.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your heart was in your mouth as John all but shoved you through the French windows and out onto the terrace.

A large round table was set out there, complete with crockery, cutlery, napkins, plates of sandwiches, two cake stands each filled with a selection of tea cakes, a large teapot, along with several tea cups and saucers. What a spread! you thought.

Four female heads turned towards you and John, but their eyes were drilling into you and you only.

Taking a deep breath, you dropped your hand out of John’s and stepped forward, a smile - but a reserved one - on your face.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

John took in the four staring women, and had a fleeting moment of deja vu. They didn’t look very welcoming, any of them. But he squared his shoulders and hurried to stand next to her, his hand on her arm.

He cleared his throat and firstly introduced her, before indicating each of the still-silent women and introducing them in turn to her. He gave her a tentative smile and a comforting squeeze of her arm. She turned back to the women, smiling and said, “Very pleased to meet you.”

There was a further moment of silence, and he saw their eyes travelling down to look at his hand resting on her arm. But he didn’t remove it.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You noticed them all staring at John’s hand, which had remained on your arm, then finally Veronica nodded at you and returned your greeting with the smallest of small smiles. This seemed to open the floodgates and the others echoed her, with accompanying smiles. Hilda jumped up (it seemed to be a family trait) and came over to you, claiming your arm from John and leading you over to an empty seat between her and Sarah, who looked up smiling as you approached. At the same time you didn’t miss the intensely scrutinising look she gave you. Well - this isn’t going to be uncomfortable at all is it?! you thought, smiling back through slightly gritted teeth.

A housemaid appeared from nowhere and began pouring tea for everyone. Marion, with her tightly permed hair and her mustard-coloured pleated skirt and mustard-coloured twinset and pearls, was busy passing the now-full cups round, spearing you with her sharp stare as she did so. Had these people never seen anyone from outside the estate or something? The way they were examining you! - as if you were a specimen on a laboratory slide or something. You decided to put on a brave front, smiling and thanking her as you took your cup from her. You would not be cowed by these women.

Sarah lifted her cup to her lips and sipped, before placing it carefully back in the saucer. You took a moment to study her. Well, you were just returning the favour, after all - she’d had the opportunity to scrutinise you for rather longer than that when you’d been paraded in front of them all. She was pretty, with soft brown eyes and wavy dark hair in a short bobbed style, however you felt that she was perhaps the kind of woman who just tended to fade into the background. Not that you were saying she was insipid, but… well, maybe you were.

But perhaps you’d better reserve judgement until you knew her better, you cautioned yourself. You yourself used to be a timid little mouse until you went out into the wide world. You either had to toughen up or else the world would eat you up, you’d learned that lesson pretty quickly. Perhaps Sarah had lived all her life in the rarified air of a country estate such as this. That would certainly explain why she had an air about her of one of those flower arrangements the Victorians liked to keep under glass domes in their parlours.

Hilda was a bubbly little thing, a few years younger than you. She was babbling happily away to you, asking where you got your dress, your hat, your shoes and who did your hair. Sensing that you had a new fan, you caught John’s eye over the tea cups and he smiled conspiratorially at you. Your lips lifted slightly in response. You could tell that he’d been trying to distract his mother’s attention from you, but that was only going to work for so long.

She turned towards you like a galleon in full sail and bared her teeth at you in a forceful smile. It reminded you of a visit you’d made to the Aquarium a few months ago. You were almost positive you’d seen the spitting image of Veronica there during your visit - flashing past you in one of the shark tanks with that same chilling grin in place, as you stood there gazing into that underwater world.

Under her regard, you very much felt like an item on that particular shark’s food chain. “My dear,” she intoned, “…my boy has told us literally nothing about you!” she glared at John, before switching her eyes back to you. “Pray do tell us something of your life to date, I’m sure it must be very interesting!”

You smiled at her, “Not really, Mrs Whittaker, but here goes! I got my degree - a First - in History of Art at Oxford, then I came down and now work at the Art Gallery in town. I’m a conservator. Well, I’m still a trainee but it’s not too bad. Eventually it will be fairly interesting once I’ve learned as much as I can about it from my mentor.” Veronica’s eyebrows rose, “Oh… an academic.” She smiled slightly more kindly at you then turned to John, “Well, that’s an improvement at least,” she said directly to him. His face pinked up and he cast an apologetic look at you.

However Veronica was not finished. She turned back to you and asked, “And your family, dear? What about them - what do they do?” You hid a smile. Pedigree was everything to the Veronicas of this world. “My father was in the army…” you noticed the frosty shutters coming down on her face again and wondered what that was all about, “…and then after the war, he started an antiques and artwork shipping company. It’s global now, doing rather well.” You saw interest spark in her eyes and her expression warmed again. “Oh, how interesting. And where do they live?” “In Sussex, on the Downs. We have a house there. And as Father’s offices are in London, a flat in Mayfair. And I have my flat here. Well… in town.”

Her expression was positively glowing by now. “How lovely!” she exclaimed, leaning forwards and motioning at one of the cake stands. “Do have a tea cake.”

You noticed John’s eyes rolling heavenwards.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After half an hour of continued small talk, you were wondering why Veronica looked so pleased, Marion and Hilda looked anxious, and Sarah didn’t look particularly pleased at all. John suddenly stood up, smiling round at his relatives and their family friend. “I’m going to give this lovely lady the Grand Tour!” he announced, holding out his hand to you.

Taking it, you nodded to the other ladies and thanked Veronica for the delicious afternoon tea. Once again, she bestowed a smile on you and then John was tugging impatiently at your hand.

He towed you along behind him, whizzing you in and out of rooms and along corridors all the while delivering a staccato list of what their functions were. Eventually he pulled you upstairs and began the same whistlestop tour you’d had on the ground floor. He arrived at one particular door and stopped. He grinned at you, “This is my bedroom. D’you want to see it?” You nodded, grinning back at him. So he opened the door and you stepped inside, taking in the ornate damask curtains, the large carved bed and heavy dark-coloured oak furniture.

“It’s very…” you ground to a halt, not sure what to say. “Last century?” he laughed, “Don’t worry, I know it is. Most of the furniture in this house is ancient.” He shrugged, “Can’t afford to replace it.” You saw a momentary flash of anxiety across his face and moved to stand closer to him.

“John? Why did your mother suddenly warm up to me?”

He sank down on the edge of the bed, a defeated look about him. “I did mention this place was sinking like the Titanic, didn’t I?” You nodded, watching him closely. “My mother desperately wanted me to marry Sarah because the Hursts have actual money. Real, folding money. Not pie-in-the-sky money, tied up in land and bricks and mortar which swallow up any available funds just by existing. Then I met Larita. She was an American racing driver at the time but had no money whatsoever, she scraped through from race to race. Like a damn fool I married her in France, and brought her back here. Can you imagine how that went down?”

You thought back to Veronica’s original icy demeanour when you first arrived. “Um.. taking a wild guess here… not very well?” He nodded, sighing. Lying back against the pillows all of a sudden, he linked his fingers behind his head. “Like a hundred-pound bomb went off. American? No money? And as far as Mother and my siblings were concerned, no class. So of course in their book, that meant no chance!” He gave a harsh laugh. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“Well, I suppose you were in love?” He shook his head, dark eyes seeking out yours, “No. I was infatuated. But definitely not in love, although I thought I was to begin with. And the infatuation quickly wore off. She was bored here, but this is my home. I wasn’t going to leave it and go off gallivanting across the world with her! Spending all the money I don’t have.” He leant up on one elbow, propping his head up on one palm, “The weirdest thing was, I come swanning back here - supposed to be almost engaged to Sarah - with another woman on my arm as my wife, and Sarah was really calm and gracious about it all. She actually became quite friendly with Larita, that’s the weird bit I’m talking about!”

He gazed up at you, “She should’ve hated her, no?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

His logic regarding that was spot on, you thought.

Of course Sarah should’ve hated Larita, that was just a normal human reaction. By rights - and without doubt if it had been you in Sarah’s position - a huge tantrum would definitely have been thrown. So huge and enduring, it would’ve registered on the Reichter Scale.

You suspected that the supposedly shy and retiring Sarah had known exactly what she’d been doing. John’s next comments merely reinforced your viewpoint, but you kept silent.

“I mean, I was moaning to Sarah one evening about how Larita’s behaviour was beginning to grate on me, and she actually told me to be quiet and go and look after my wife!”

That was the icing on the cake as far as you were concerned. Sarah was playing some kind of long game, you decided. One of the most ancient games around in fact, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’.

John had admitted to you that he and Sarah’s relationship had always been sibling-like, and she was probably only too well aware of that fact. When he came back from the Riviera with a wife, there wasn’t very much she could do about it at that point but had decided to bide her time. She thought exactly the same as John’s family thought about the marriage (poorly) - but she never admitted it.

In fact she played it exactly the opposite way and ‘befriended’ the wife, who was probably only too happy to see a supposedly friendly face in amongst all the hostile Whittaker ones.

Well, well, you thought, clever little Sarah.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

John had continued, “So you see, my darling mama - and I do apologise most profusely for this - is now of the opinion that you are a very good prospect indeed. She and my sisters will be worried that I’ll say or do something to frighten you away! But I assure you that in getting to know you, those are the absolute furthest thoughts in my mind.”

Her eyebrows were steadily climbing as he spoke. Seeing this reaction - John, as he was fond of doing - had moved swiftly along to another topic of conversation.

He was grinning up at her, as she stood there deep in thought. “But on another and more interesting note… the bed itself might be old, but I just had a new mattress delivered a few months ago. It’s very good.” He patted the quilt next to him, “Like to give it a try?”

He didn’t truly expect her to agree so he wasn’t too disappointed when she laughed and shook her head. “I think we’d better get back downstairs, John!” Turning and walking out of the room, she sent him a smile over her shoulder which made his heart leap again.

Sighing, he got up off the bed and followed her.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Additional A/N: In the film, I never found Sarah’s smiling acceptance of John getting married to the brash Larita believable. She either never really loved him or else she was a seething mass of jealousy under that calm exterior. And I think the latter! Also, for anyone who’s a stickler for accuracy, Easy Virtue was set in the Roaring Twenties and the Reichter Scale wasn’t introduced until 1935, so that’s fiction writer’s licence right there 😉 😁

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@paracosmenthusiast

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[writtenonreceipts]

5. “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” For rowaelin, Aelin finding out she’s pregnant. It can be an au, or in their actual world. Thanks so much!

/AN: Thanks so much for the prompt, anon!  This got away from me! I’m sorry?  But not really, I had fun with it, even though I don’t feel like it’s my best. I’d never really thought I would write canon/post canon but here we are...enjoy my dears

#

It hadn’t even occurred to Aelin that anything could go wrong with the day.  It was after all ten years since the war had ended.  Ten years since there was even the smallest promise of peace in her home.  Ten years.

It was supposed to be glorious.

Kneeling over the toilet Aelin emptied the contents of her stomach, again, and did her best to even out her breathing.  If there was anything less glorious to be doing--this certainly was it.

Her Fae enhanced ears caught the sound of footsteps coming toward her.  Lorcan.  Quick and efficient.  Grabbing a hand towel, Aelin wiped her mouth and stood.  She made sure her dress was fit properly and left the bathroom.  The last person she wanted seeing her so weak and vulnerable was Lord Lorcan Lochan.

Granted she could just use his full title on him and call it even.

“Aelin?” Lorcan called from the front door of her chambers.

“Come in,” she replied.  She used her magic to take away the cent of vomit, but she didn’t know if it actually did anything because Lorcan’s nose twitched as he entered. “What?’

“Darrow said that it’s time,” Lorcan said.  He eyed her with a frown.  His dark eyes were intent and unyielding.  Even after all this time she still wasn’t quite used to his silent calculations, the information he seemed to glean from a room with ease and efficiency.  Aelin was suddenly grateful he had become so smitten with Elide that he’d changed his life completely.  Even if he was an ass.

“As if we haven’t rehearsed this enough,” Aelin muttered.  Her stomach rolled again.  Damn nerves.  She was a queen and had been doing quite well at it thank-you very much.  There was no reason for her to feel so ill and anxious at the thought of the festivities tomorrow. 

“Are you all right?” Lorcan asked.  His frown deepened as he looked her over. “You don’t look well.  Have you eaten today?”

“You sound like Rowan,” Aelin grumbled.  She went to her armoire and found the ring Rowan had given her one year after their secret nuptials.  The familiar weight on her finger, settled her somewhat.  “I’m not hungry either, let's get this over with.”

She didn’t add the fact that just the thought of eating made her want to crawl back into bed.  And she would be able to do just that in forty-eight hours.

#

The elaborate ceremony was slated to take place tomorrow evening, the exact day when the war finally ended.  Apparently Aelin needed to practice walking down a straight line to the balcony that overlooked the castle courtyard.  After she addressed her people she would then unveil a sculpture.  She’d asked Rowan to commission the sculpture so she had no idea what it would be of, but she had to trust the buzzard to take well to the task.

When Darrow finally relented that they’d done enough preparation for the following day, Aelin excused herself to her private quarters.  Lorcan following after.

“Don’t you have a wife and baby to go and se?” Aelin called over her shoulder.

“Yes, but their not as high-maintenance as you, so I think it’s alright if I’m a little late,” Lorcan replied.

When Aelin shot a glare over her shoulder at him she caught a brief smile on his lips.

She had a response perched on her lips but something else snared her attention.  It was a familiar scent of pine and snow and home.  Her mate.

Before explaining anything to Lorcan she sprinted the rest of the way to her rooms, flinging the doors open.

Standing in the center of her room was the one person she had been desperate to lay eyes on these past few weeks.  Her husband had been travelling, preparing the outlying villages for the celebration, and bringing the commissioned statue back to Terrasan.

“Fireheart,” he said, a broad grin spreading across his face.

Aelin didn’t wait before throwing herself at him, burrowing her face in his shoulder.

Chuckling Rowan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him.

“I missed you,” she whispered.  She looked up at him and giggled when he started peppering her face with kisses.

“And I you, my heart,” he said before finally pressing a long kiss to her lips.  He pulled away so he could rest his forehead against her, his beautiful eyes staring right into her soul.

Aelin could have stood their for hours, days, millennia.  Just this brief exchange could make up for her nausea from this morning and her anxiety about the coming day.

“I asked for our meal to be delivered here,” Rowan told her, “Elide and Lorcan will take care of the festivities for tonight.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “Lord Lorcan Lochan agreed to that.”

“It took bribery,” Rowan admitted.

Aelin threw her head back and laughed before leaning up on her toes to kiss her mate.  She slanted her mouth eagerly over his, grateful to have him back with her.  Despite the promises they’d made to each other years ago about never being apart, things had come up in their kingdom, in their world.  

Rowan ran his hands down Aelin’s sides, nipping at her bottom lip.

By the time their food had arrived from the kitchen, they were free of several layers of clothing and warm with lust.

Sun was barely setting behind the mountains, casting pink and gold rays across the sky.  It was this time of day that Aelin loved most.  The simple beauty of the sky was enough to remind her how far they’d come.

Rowan sat across from her telling a story about the mess he and Fenrys had gotten into while trekking across the mountains just days before.  Even in their other forms, they’d somehow managed to not only start an avalanche of late spring snow, but get holed up in a snow cave.

Aelin smiled as she pushed food across her plate.  Her appetite hadn’t come back all day and she was swimming with nausea again, not matter how much of her own magic she tried to apply to herself.  She needed to send a message to Yrene for a remedy.  

“Fireheart?” Rowan asked. “You haven’t even touched your food, what’s going on?”

She looked up and shrugged. “You’re far too entertaining for your own good King.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed.  “You’re hiding something from me.”

Scoffing, Aelin cut a piece of venison just to appease him.  She brought it to her lips and gave him a pointed stare, but before she could take a bite the scent of the cooked meat and spices ausulted her nose and she was up and running to the restroom before she knew what had happened.

She emptied the scant amount of food in her belly and sank back onto her knees only to find herself leaning against Rowan’s chest.  One of his hand was curled in her hair to keep it pulled back while the other rested on her stomach, keeping her close to him.

His warm breath brushed against her ear. “Are you alright?”

Aelin nodded and let herself melt into her mate.  “I haven’t been feeling well all day,” she admitted.

Rowan raised a hand to her forehead, her cheeks, feeling for a fever.  He grunted.

“I’m fine,” Aelin insisted.  She made to pull away from him but he kept her close.

“You’ve been flaring your magic lately,” he said.

“Because I’m exhausted.  Planning this celebration has take too much out of me,” she said.  She hated to sound the way she did, but between the vomiting and the fears about tomorrow she really didn’t feel too guilty about it. “Besides it’s probably just my--”

Aelin froze.  

Her cycle.

How long had it been?  Since settling into her Fae form the bleedings hadn’t come as often but they were brutal.  She couldn’t remember exactly how long it had been.  Three months?  She couldn’t be pregnant.  After all this time of trying and hoping.  After losing the last pregnancy.

Aelin twisted in Rowan’s arms.  He looked utterly confused as to what was going on.  Couldn’t he see?  Couldn’t he tell?  Of course...she had been using her magic so often to keep her going throughout the day that perhaps it was masking the scent.

Tentatively, Aelin dropped the shield she’d been putting up over herself.  As soon as she did, Rowan’s gaze sharpened.

“Aelin,” he whispered.

Her gaze dropped to her stomach, nothing looked different.  But the more she thought about it, the more her mind flooded with emotion and she settled one hand over her belly.

Rowan dipped his nose in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply, his teeth nipping her skin gently.  Aelin shivered at the contact and forced herself to look at her mate once more.  She twisted enough so she could draw his chin up and look into his eyes as they knelt together.

Emotion laced Rowan’s eyes and told her all that she needed to know.

She let out a weak laugh as tears slipped down her cheeks.  Rowan was quick to catch them with his lips before pressing a soft, tender kiss to each corner of her mouth.

“I’m pregnant,” Aelin said, needing to hear the words out loud.

“You’re pregnant,” Rowan confirmed.

Throwing her arms around her mate, Aelin didn’t hold back her sobs.  This was beyond anything she could have ever imagined for herself.  After the hell her life had been, right up until she’d met Rowan.  Her grip tightened around him.  He had been her saving grace.  Always and forever.

She pulled back enough to look into his eyes and wipe away his own tears.

“To whatever end,” she said.

“To whatever end.”

#

The statue that was unveiled the next day was simple.  And yet it was no less glorious.  Commissioned from a woman in a small country Aelin had visited many times now.  The statue was of two women, their faces blank so as to allow the viewer to see themselves there.  One of the women was carved to be wearing a fine dress that flowed behind her.  The other held two swords.

Two princesses, two queens, one war won.

The country of Eyllwe, Aelin decided, had a way of bringing her home.

#

As always thanks for reading!

tags:  @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx

[airis-paris14]

Wonder What She Thinks Epilogue

Summary: She learns to put herself first and he loses the best thing he ever had.

A/N: A new chapter of Starlight coming up next.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

It's Never Wrong When You're In Love...

I haven’t felt this type of thing in a while. I thought I lost myself in love until I found you.

- “Natural” Sabrina Claudio

I’m telling you right now from this day on, I’ve already weighed out the pros and cons, your just the woman I want.”

-"4evermore" Anthony David (ft. Algebra)

“Mrs. Jordan,” Michael leaned over and whispered in his bride’s ear. “Yes, Mr. Jordan?” Zoe beamed as she and her new husband waited for their cue to walk into the reception party. “You look absolutely breathtaking today. Coming down that aisle I was watching you like hot damn that’s my lady,” Michael grinned as Zoe slapped his arm, laughter falling from her lips. “Shut up, you were crying too,” the bride reminded, allowing Michael to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Yeah but that was the internal monologue,” he insisted as one of the tech workers handed each of them a microphone. The intro to “4evermore” by Anthony David began to blare on the other side of the banquet hall doors. “You ready?”

Zoe nodded and took her husband's hand. The doors opened on cue and the couple walked in belting their respective parts of the song.

“Forever’s a mighty long time but I really wanna spend it with you. I shine when you shine. There's really no substitute. 4evermore,”

The two danced around each other singing along with the track. The audience joined in clapping as the newlyweds continued their performance. “I’m making my plans just to be with you. It’s you and me, babe, till the days are through, And I ain’t ashamed, love, to say I do,” Michael crooned

They went through the chorus again before Zoe got her chance to shine, consequently surprising the guests who’d never heard her sing, “Pick a tree to carve our names, let the world know it’s not a game. Last longer than a wedding ring, generations tattooed with the love we bring. From the seeds we sow, to the time it takes to grow. Long enough to show you, I won’t let go of you. Without you, I'm incomplete, like this love song without this beat. I’m saying you are the man I need,” Zoe sang causing the crowd to erupt in cheers.

“I didn’t know Zoe could sing,” Shuri leaned over to her brother who was carrying both of his children in his arms. “She doesn’t often, but she’s great,” he nodded, trying to stop the regret flooding through his veins by bouncing his fussy two, almost, three-year-olds. He watched as their mother spun and sang with her husband. A man that wasn’t him. A man who was making her laugh and having fun on the dance floor as Camden started the rap verse in the song. His attention was then pulled to Nakia, as she laughed and danced on the sidelines of the dance floor cheering on Zoe and Michael with the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for the new Mr. And Mrs. Michael B. Jordan. That was the best wedding entrance I’ve ever seen,” the DJ announced as the crowd began settling back in their seats. Zoe-Iman laughed as Michael handed over their mics and pulled her in close for their first dance. “I’m serious, who giving the new Mrs. Jordan a record deal, cause sis got some mad pipes. I know all this money in here, there’s gotta be a music exec looking for fresh talent. But, imma get off my soapbox so this new union can enjoy their first dance as husband and wife.”

Soon, “Butterflies Pt.2” by Queen Naija was drifting from the speakers as Michael gently swayed with his new wife, the couple singing along softly to each other. “You going to ask Nakia to dance?” Shuri caught her brother’s attention as she grabbed her niece from his arms. Not wanting to be left behind, Meluzmi began wriggling from his father’s arms to get down to the floor with his sister. “I don’t think Nakia wants to talk to me.” The king glanced again at his ex-wife dancing with Camden. “Nonsense, you all were friends first,” Ramonda interrupted, stooping to kiss both of her grandchildren. “That is why your father, and hers, thought you would make a great match.”

“You all are running the country well together, for over a year now.” Shuri pointed out smiling as the toddlers began bopping along to the song with each other. “Business conversations do not mean she will want to dance with me. Besides, she seems like she is having a good time with Camden.”

Shuri shook her head, “I’m taking the twins to dance, Mama, do something with him please,” the now 19-year old shook her head and headed towards the floor as the song shifted, signaling that other couples could join the wedding party on the floor. “Dance with me,” Ramonda extended a hand and the son turned king accepted and escorted her onto the floor.

“You know,” the queen mother started a few seconds later, “the first time you brought Zoe home, I was sure that within a year or two, you’d be telling your father you wanted to marry her.”

T’Challa smiled, “I was that obvious?”

Ramonda chuckled, “Painfully. You were looking at her like a lovesick fool the whole time she was there. Your father tried several times to give you his permission to date him. Even blatantly asking if you all were dating, but you were so stubborn.”

T’Challa looked away and swallowed, “It was not my finest hour and it will forever remain one of my biggest regrets, but I am happy for her.”

“You are, but you are also jealous. Zoe gave you plenty of chances, she even bore your children T’Challa but you were so stubborn, you lost your chance. Now that she’s happy, you should try to find happiness of your own. If not with Nakia, try again with someone. Don’t spend your life believing these were the only two women who could ever have been a great wife. Zoe found her happiness, Nakia is working on hers, it’s time you find your own.”

“Umama-” the king started. “Happiness outside of your children T’Challa, you need adult company too. Company you actually like, the elders don’t count.”

The king sighed and glanced across the room, “I’d like to try again, but I fear I will always wonder what Nakia and Zoe think of her.”

“That is your problem, you always wonder what everyone else is thinking, son.”

“You loved Zoe, but you were so afraid that we would hate her, you hid her and lost her. You had feelings for Nakia, but you wondered what she would think about what you had done to Zoe, so you pushed her away. Stop wondering what one girl will think about the other. Find your happiness, then bring her around. You always attract wonderful people, and we all always love each other. Think about it son, who else’s ex-wife is good friends with the woman her husband was cheating and had children with?”

Ramonda laughed, watching Zoe and Nakia dance with the rest of the wedding party. The king joined in chuckling as his mother continued, “Stop pitting the women against each other before they can even meet. Just let yourself fall in love freely son. We just want you to be happy.”

Zoe instinctively held her head further back as a smirk crossed her new husband’s lips. “Now, Michael, this is a very expensive white dress-”

“And you look beautiful baby-,” he raised his hand with a piece of cake in it closer to Zoe’s face. “Michael,” Zoe whined as his smirk turned into a full-on grin, “What? I’m just trying to feed my beautiful wife.”

“No, you are not!” Zoe laughed and dodged Michael’s hand, “I don’t wanna ruin my makeup, I paid a lot for it,” the bride pouted. “Fine,” the groom sighed, “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Thank you,” Zoe beamed and allowed him to feed her the piece of cake, she leaned in, kissed his lips, and smashed the piece of cake and icing onto his face, “Gotcha,” she cackled as Michael wiped icing from his mouth. The guests doubled over in laughter as he wrapped a giggling Zoe up in his arms and shook her. “You play dirty,” he laughed. “Mama!” two voices cried out as Ka’aulani and Meluzmi ran to their mom and stepfather. “Cake,” Meluzmi pleaded and his twin nodded her head in agreement. “Okay baby, “Zoe smiled. Michael cut them two small pieces and handed Zoe a plate. The caterers took over cutting up the rest of the large cake for the couple as they led their children over to the main table.

Michael took his self-proclaimed best friend Meluzmi in his lap and let him try and figure out how to spear the soft pieces of dessert, before eventually helping him out. Not wanting her daughter to ruin her dress or hair, Zoe still couldn't understand how so much of the toddler’s meals ended up in her curls, the mother alternated between feeding the toddler and herself. The small family sat sharing cake in silence, bobbing softly to the beat of Kiss Me More while watching their guests tear it up on the dance floor and fight over pieces of cake. “There you two are!” Shuri sighed obviously frustrated, “ T’Challa is gonna kill me, he wanted me to keep them so you could enjoy yourself.”

“Girl,” Zoe dismissed. “He will be fine. My babies just wanted some cake and their mommy.”

On cue, the twins giggled. “Are you having fun?”

Shuri shrugged, I’m just glad to see you happy,” The teen admitted. “Yeah but you’re young, you should be out dancing, and not with two-year-olds.”

“I got a cousin, he’s 20, but I think y’all get along great,” Michael grinned and called the boy over. As predicted he and Shuri hit it off and as the party forged ahead, the couple saw the two dancing and shared a fist bump. “We’re definitely the matchmaking couple,” Zoe beamed.

As the party began to wind down hours later, T’Challa approached the couple for the second time that day and cleared his throat. “My mother and I were about to leave, I was gonna take the twins,” the king gestured towards the children sleeping peacefully, each spread over two chairs pushed together. “Oh okay, thank you for coming and babysitting,” Zoe Iman Jordan hugged her former best friend, ex-lover, and the father of her children, “I’m gonna go say goodnight to mama,” she squeezed Michael’s hand before leaving in search of the older matriarch. “I’ll help you grab the kids, '' Michael broke the silence.

T’Challa nodded and they grabbed the slobbering children from their makeshift beds and headed out of the venue to the cars. Once both twins were buckled, they leaned against the car awaiting the women’s arrival. “Michael thank you.”

“For what?” The actor turned to the monarch. “For loving Zoe and for bringing the light back to her life. For taking care of her and loving my children as your own, even when I wasn’t man enough to do the same.”

Michael nodded, “You know for the longest I hated you. I didn’t understand how one man could be so self-involved he couldn’t see how amazing of a woman he had right in his hand. I hated that you messed with Zoe’s head, made her second guess herself. Then I finally got her to a good place, she opened up, we were having a good time, then she found out she was pregnant. You wouldn’t even text her back about your own kids.” T’Challa nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, “If I could do it all again, I would do it differently believe me.”

I know,” the groom agreed, “but everything happens for a reason. I don’t approve of what you did, but if you had been a good partner, I probably wouldn’t be married to the love of my life right now. So I forgive you. And those kids, they are like my own. I am beyond glad that you’ve stepped up for them. I want them to have their father and a bonus father in their lives. You stay involved and love them, then there are no hard feelings between us.” The acclaimed actor extended a hand and T’Challa accepted his handshake. “You have my word, I’m never leaving them again.”

“Good.” Michael leaned back against the car and crossed his legs, hands stuffed in his tuxedo pockets. “So what’s next for you?” He asked a few beats later.

T’Challa exhaled, “I’m not sure, but I do know I wanna get my life back on track. Find someone and treat her right.”

“Then you do that man,” they stood up off of the car as Ramonda approached. “I just wonder what she’ll think of this family. It’s all a little bizarre isn’t it?”

“Yeah most baby mamas and ex-wives aren’t best friends, especially under our circumstances, but if she loves you and you love her, there’ll always be room in the family.”

“I appreciate that Michael.”

“Shuri staying with Nakia?” The actor asked when the queen mother reached the car. “Yes, she and your cousin have taken quite a liking to each other,” Ramonda raised an eyebrow. “You know me and Zoe will watch out for her,” Michael reassured. “I know, that is the only reason I’m letting her stay,” Ramonda answered.

“We’ll get her back to you safely later tonight. I promise,” The actor shoved his hands in his pocket and stepped back. “I guess we better get going then-”

“Wait,” Zoe walked out of the venue over to the car. “I didn’t get to kiss my babies goodbye,” the mother pouted. Michael laughed as T’Challa rolled his eyes. “Boy, don’t roll your eyes at me before they get stuck like that.” She slapped his chest before opening the car doors and kissing both of her toddlers.”

“Okay, we will swing by to pick them up after we get back. And you have everything packed for them right? You have Meluzmi’s inhaler, and enough clothes and replacement outfits? You got the earplugs too right? They hate heights and the sounds of the plane's engines when-”

“Zoe they will be fine. T’Challa reassured. “And if I don’t have it, you know my mother will make sure they get it. They will be fine. I can do this,” The king grabbed both of her hands and squeezed them gently. “I know, I know,” the young mother sighed, “This is just the longest I have been away from them ever and I’m nervous.” Michael moved up to wrap an arm around his wife’s waist and press a kiss to her forehead. “ Everything will be fine,” he soothed. “I know-”

“Then stop worrying,” T’Challa offered a sad smile, “You deserve this, to be happy, to have a break, to enjoy your honeymoon. You are an excellent mother Zoe, but they have a father too. So enjoy your break, enjoy your marriage. I promise they will be just as alive and happy as they are now when you get back from your trip.”

Zoe nodded and sighed, finally stepping back from the car with Michael at her side. “Okay, see you in three weeks. Thank you all again.”

“Anytime, you know I love my grandbabies.” Ramonda hugged the bride once more before closing the door facing the twins and taking a seat in the backseat next to them. “Ayy, Mike, it’s almost time for the garter toss,” Two of the groomsmen waved the couple over but T’Challa reached for Zoe’s hand. “Can we talk?”

Zoe nodded at her husband letting him know she was okay, he looked the king over once more before heading inside to watch from the doorway. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted you to know that you were right.”

“About what?” the bride squinted. “About deserving to be with someone who can say they love you in and out of the bedroom. You deserve someone who loves you out loud, and I’m glad you found it in Michael.”

Zoe smiled softly, “Thank you. I hope you find the same for yourself. We both deserve someone.”

“I think I already did but I kind of fucked it up...twice,” the king chuckled. “I’ll keep you updated on that front though.”

Zoe Iman nodded. T’Challa gestured to the doorway, “I think you better go though, your husband hasn’t stopped watching.” Zoe laughed, glancing over her shoulder at Michael who was, sure enough, watching from the door. “Yeah... Goodbye T’Challa.” Zoe pulled the king in for a hug before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodbye, Zoe… I love you,” he sighed once she had walked off out of earshot.

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

[r3almellow]

Lucien and Victor With A S/o Who Deals With Discrimination

Thank you @dummys-fics​ for the request!

As someone who is not only a minority, but is currently living in a place where they’re seen as “strange” or an oddity, I completely understand this 2000%. I’m so sorry that you’ve had to go through such things. 

I will say I did use my own experiences and the experiences of others for this, so fair warning for those who don’t want to read such a subject. I did try to make it as vague as possible so that many of us can relate. 

Warning: Microaggression/Discrimination/Racism

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Victor

Rude remarks and not so subtle stares pertaining to your appearance were things you’ve had to deal with ever since you were a child. You spent your whole life being treated different from those around you and usually, you never let things get to you. Usually....

Victor invited you to a charity event that was being thrown by one of his business associates. 

You were left alone for a while with Victor promising to return to your side after leaving to talk with someone. 

This left you open for people to talk with you. Not only were a well known producer but you were also dating the worlds most sought after CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, so this was to be expected. 

However, you felt like you were in a petting zoo and you were the animal. This wasn’t new, but after years of having to deal with this you couldn’t shake the burning hatred you had for people like them. 

“Your hair is just so different. How on earth do you manage to wash it?” These magical things called shampoo and conditioner....and water. Please stop touching my hair... “My apologies! Its so...fascinating!”

“Why did you decide to come to this country? Don’t you miss your home?” I was born here just like you. “Ah! So your parents immigrated here? That explains it! You know...I’ve always been on the fence about immigration. So many foreigners come and take ou-”

“Wow! I never thought someone like you would catch Mr. Li’s eye!” Someone like me? “Yes! Its quite surprising that he would choose someone so different.” 

In other words, what Victor saw in you was unfathomable to others. No matter how much you spoke like them, lived like them, and acted like them; you were never going to be seen as one of them. 

You had to bite the inside of your cheek for that last remark, the urge to runaway growing stronger. You couldn’t embarrass Victor in front of all his colleagues. You just had to suck it up and smile it off until he returned to your side.  

Little did you know, Victor was within ear shot and had witnessed your ordeal despite being caught up in a conversation. He knew leaving you alone would be risky, but never did he think the men and women he spent years developing professional relationships with could be so...disgusting.

You feel his warm hands intertwine with yours as he stepped forward. His hard stare finding its way to the person who made the careless statement.

“I have decided to break our contract and will no longer be doing business with you. If you have any questions please direct them to my assistant as I refuse to associate with someone who is as ill-mannered as you.” The person’s mouth hung open as did the rest of the group at Victor’s sudden declaration. “If the rest of you condone this act of disrespect then I’ll have to reconsider our future as partners as well.” And with that, Victor pulls you away, leaving the shocked group behind.

A part of you feels a little bad that Victor had to go that far over you, but the look on their faces was definitely a moment that needed to be framed and put on your wall as a great reminder of how amazing your boyfriend is.

“I honestly feel bad that you lost one of your business partners, but I do appreciate you coming to my aid like that.” 

Just like that the world stops. No music from the orchestra or the laughter from guests could be heard. Waiters with trays and wine bottles in hand frozen in place along with the rest of the people. 

Victor turns to you with a deep rooted scowl. 

“I only did what needed to be done. They have a mindset that is beyond deplorable. I will not have my name or my company be tied to people like that. I also won’t tolerate anyone who dares disrespect you in such a way.” 

Overall

Victor will never let anyone disrespect you in any way, shape or form. Now, put racism and/or discrimination on top of that? Best believe, Victor will shut that shit down quick. The way he’ll sue them for everything they’ve got on top of cut their asses up with his sharp tongue and still keep it classy?! Those people are about to be destitute and traumatized. 

Lucien

You’re at a café waiting on Lucien to show up for your lunch date. He’s running a little late due to being held up with work, but you don’t mind. You occupy your time by finding random things to do through your phone. 

Out of the corner of your eye you notice a group of people, who looked to be university boys, at another table looking over at you every so often before whispering amongst themselves. 

When they look over at you for the second time you hear a few chuckles causing your eyebrow twitch. They were definitely talking about you. 

One of them pulled out their phone, aiming it in your direction. Ah...so that’s how it is. You experienced this before, on trains mostly. Rude people trying to take a photo of you for whatever weird reason they may have. Usually it was because you were an “anomaly” to them.  And they weren’t subtle about taking the pictures at all. You’d be sitting across from them minding your own business and then snap! The loud shutter sound echoing throughout the quiet train. 

Sometimes you called people out on their rudeness, cursing them out and seeing their eyes widen and cheeks flush in embarrassment always brought you joy. They probably didn’t anticipate you calling them out and assumed you didn’t speak the language which made things all the more sweeter. 

Other times you had no energy to battle with them. You hated how people sometimes looked at you like you had grown two heads and how surprised they were to see you living your life just like them. 

This wasn’t the 5th century anymore. People in this country came in all shapes, colors, and sizes. Clearly, these people didn’t get the memo. 

Soooo, you were feeling a little petty today. 

You were ready let them know they weren’t slick with their antics by flipping them off. Was it a childish move? Yes. Did you care? Not at all. 

You make your move just as they took the picture, giving them the angriest look you can muster with your middle finger at the ready. 

You watch as the guys all crowd around their friend with the phone and grin as you see their unhappy expressions as they look at the photo. 

You smile at your little victory, but that smile quickly turned to confusion when you saw a familiar body looming over the group. 

It was...Lucien? You couldn’t hear what was being said but the pure horror that spreads across each individuals face in a matter of seconds indicates those boys were in trouble. 

A few seconds later, Lucien is before you shedding himself of his coat to take a seat, the group of boys scurrying out of the café like bats out of hell. 

He smiles softly at you as he sits down, completely ignoring the dumbfounded look on your face.

“Forgive my lateness. Did you order already?” 

Like hell you were just going to ignore what transpired. 

“Do you know them?”

You couldn’t hide your laughter once Lucien informed you those boys were his first year students from one of his lectures. Now, you know you had a bit of pettiness in you, but Lucien is a whole different monster when it comes to dishing out punishment. 

“Let me guess, you told them to write a five paged paper on how discrimination effects us and our view of the world due by the weekend?”

Lucien looks up from the menu at you slightly confused.  

“Now why would I do that? I’d like to think 10 pages due by tomorrow morning is more fitting.” 

Overall

Lucien won’t sit back and watch people disrespect you in anyway. Rest assured that our professor will have those people fearing for their lives all with a smile on his face. 

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